Not Me Monday! Dec. 15

While we were at the pediatrician's office this morning, I did not just tell Mallorie's pediatrician (when she said the way I was kissing Mal, I'd end up catching whatever she had) that I was TRYING to catch it, to create more antibodies for her in my milk. 'Cause if I said that, I'd have been pulling that one just out of the air! To have an answer. Even as a kid, I always never had to have the last word.

And when I said we ALL kiss her, ALL the time, on her mouth ... but not, of course, when WE are sick, Dr. B did not tell me, good, because she'd beat me up if she heard I did that!

She also did NOT tell me I'd be pumping milk for the next 14 or so years, because Mallorie's response to formula trials turn out so badly, and we shouldn't hold out hope for her doing any better with cow milk.

If she'd said that, it would NOT have made me, for the first time, ever, wonder when WILL I think I should quit?

And all these interactions this beautiful winter day absolutely, positively did not make me so happy and filled with peace to know that:

Mallorie is healthy, too healthy to have been brought into a croupy-sneezy-snotty waiting room this morning.

My freezer has milk in it, so it's OK that my supply dipped some more last week, and I'm going to have to work like crazy this week to bring it back up.

The frozen milk is not mine, but lovingly collected and preserved by other awesome women whose generosity I could never really deserve. They simply share what they can out of love for other mommy's babies. Amazing.

Mallorie is still slowly gaining back the poundage.

Dr. B is OUR pediatrician.

And while I waited in the waiting room overflow area to see whichever doc in the group was available to see us this morning, I did not watch a mom go up to the receptionist window and ask for an appointment with Dr. B. And when she made a sad face about there being no openings in Dr. B's schedule at a time when the mom was hoping to get in, so she accepted an appt with another doc, in NO WAY did I turn to Tracy and whisper to her, She wanted to see Dr. B. Join the club. Stand in line.

Nope, not me. I didn't say that, because that would have been immature and just SNOTTY!

And I absolutely, positively was not grinning, because we were NOT leaving, if we had to wait till noon or later. Even though we had no idea which doc we'd even be seeing. With my healthy girl. After waiting in a sick waiting room full of children who actually were sick. Because it's totally NOT THAT COOL to even hope for a chance to see the amazing Dr. B. (Am I right, Cathy? We don't ever tease each other with emails and texts that say things like, "I get to bring my kid to Dr. B today." We don't, right?)