Because Occassionally You Just Need to Feel in Control of Something.

The evening before the last day of school each year (sometimes even the morning of the last day) I would slink into my mom's room and ask her to cut my hair. Not trim. Cut. Surely she thought I was crazy, but every year my mom obliged.

I've made no secret of my want for more children, or our lack of success in that department. When we passed the requisite six months of trying, my doctor said to give it a little more time. Which made complete sense. I was still breastfeeding and even though it took us a long time to get our first born, conception was never the issue. I mean I practically have Irish triplets so clearly I know how to breed. Right?

Except, then another six months passed. So I trudged back to the doctor, who agreed it was probably worth checking out. My blood work came back normal and Wesley's swimmers are in tip top shape, but they did see something funky on my ultrasound. "Probably endometriosis." "Probably nothing to worry about."

Friday morning I go in for a hysteroscopy to get a closer look at the goods. It's "probably nothing to worry about." And yet, like any other red blooded woman would, I do. There's a big looming question mark in my life.

Tomorrow feels a lot like the last day of school.

-----------------
On a lighter note, I'm talking about my 45 minute, nearly-ready philosophy on life
at Smithfield. I've even included a recipe! Do be a doll and pop on over? Puh-lease.