Nine to Noon

Things that came up at my physician's appointment this morning;
1) "Your cholesterol is high, have you heard that before?" Mm, nope. But also this is my first regular primary care physician experience in my entire adult memory. Like. It's been awhile. So, literally the only people who get updated on my cholesterol are the Vampires (United Blood Services) and I'm assuming they don't care how fat and unhealthy I am, as long as I let them bleed me dry.
Disclaimer: I am completely joking. I love donating blood and try to do it fairly regularly. Having a baby screwed that up pretty hardcore, but it's all good. Me and the Vamps are tight.
My doctor also made it clear that this cholesterol is not affected by my diet, seeing as I am in a healthy weight range for my body type, and my blood pressure and pulse are A-okay. She asked what I knew of my family history and I reminded her that I'm adopted so I wouldn't know. That basically confirmed for her that I've got a genetic issue, so I'm on a daily cholesterol pill now?
That was unexpected, to say the least.

2) "We'll get your steroid knee injection done today, carpe diem." Oh, cool, no biggie, I totally planned on getting stabbed in the knee with my 18-month old whirlwind on the loose in this cramped doctors office full of buttons, doo-dads, and hazardous material trash cans.
And yet it went great.
Granted, she gave Ander a total of three dum-dums and he literally chomped each one with his teeth. Because he has no chill.
Speaking of which, I was wearing white capris and they were using that orangey-yellow sanitizing stuff so they had me use the crepe paper covers like they give you at the gynecologist and Ander really had a hayday tearing it to absolute shreds. He knows how much I love showing off my tighty-whitey g's.

2a) "Wow, you've really got some arthritis there, how is that possible for a 25 year old??" In the middle of stabbing my actual knee bones after having "numbed" me with what I can only assume was canned nitrogen.
5 minutes earlier:
"How much pain can I expect?"
"None."
By which she meant "maybe bite down on something."

3) "How about we do a flu shot as well." Yes. More stabbing. This Wednesday needs more stabbing. After the knee injection though it was less than a pinch.
Ander kept pointing at the needle and signing that he wanted it. Blessed child.

4) "Did he just say 'thank you'?!" I mean, probably? Maybe? There's one specific saying that means like a billion things depending on which context he uses it in. It sounds like 'thank you', or 'let's go', or 'cool', or blanket which is technically 'ket ket'.
So Ander's definitely trying to talk, but even I have difficulty piecing together what he's trying to say most of the time. Our dog's name is Mor'du and it took my Mother-in-Law pointing out that he was saying "doo" everytime he heard barking and here I was thinking he was just baby-talking "dog".
I'm too dumb for this motherhood business.
But anyway, I let the doctor believe that my 18-month old said "thank you" in response to being handed a lollipop. Because I'm not dumb enough to refute that my kid is polite and adorable.
I'll take it where I can get it.

5) "Eliminate stress, have fun in the trying." We've been trying to get pregnant basically since June of this year, and I want to start this by saying I understand completely that that is well within the norms of the average couples conception period. I am well below the experience of women who suffer from syndromes and infertility and being so out of control of their own bodies. If I could just put across how aware I am that I have no right to complain.
It doesn't suck any less despite that knowledge. Mostly I feel like I'm not allowed to be disappointed every time I'm convinced I'm feeling morning sickness, or feel that lightning quickening in my breasts, or find myself four days late for my period, or any other myriad of "obvious" symptoms and then end up with another pile of negative tests each month.
It's disappointing. And discouraging. And incredibly emotional and it hurts each month it doesn't happen because Ander is one month older, because the waiting starts over again, because I want it so badly. So badly.
But my hormones look fine, she told me to just religiously take my prenatal vitamin, and to, as previously mentioned, reduce stress....and just basically NOT do what I have been doing? Obsessing, charting, planning and scheduling.
I don't know how I'm supposed to forget that we're trying to get pregnant, it doesn't feel possible. Lately, my "happy place" has been imagining being pregnant, having another tiny one in the house, being better than I was with Ander because I'm more experienced now and can draw off our experience with him to convince myself to try longer, do more more often, ask for more help, create more of a safe, clean space. When I can't fall asleep, or things are going wrong, or I have a bad day, I let myself imagine that joy of creating another life and it's been getting me through.
Obviously I need to replace that with something else. Currently taking suggestions.

I wasn't expecting to go that deep, but all the jokes and light-hearted lines I typed came out flat or slightly more than vaguely bitter, which is not how I want to come across.
I'm still hopeful, I am rationally aware of how lucky and blessed I am, it could very well be next month that I make an announcement and I'll feel a real dunce for even sending this out into the open.