Friday night, Buster and I went to our favorite Italian restaurant. It's in the next town over, and even though there is nothing else in that town worth visiting, this restaurant is amazing.
Since it was Friday night, there was quite a long wait. So we sat and waited, while playing on our phones.
I was catching up on blogs. One of which was my dear friend Aub's blog. She posted a sneak peek photo from her maternity photo shoot. And it is amazingly beautiful.
I showed the photo to Buster, and he went on to tell me how he doesn't "understand those kind of pictures".
I tell him that I don't care if he understands them or not, I will be having them done. Because if I ever do get pregnant, there's a big chance that it might be the only time. And I want to remember.
Buster then said that he doesn't think I'll need photos to remember that time. So fucking incorrigible.
I rolled my eyes and told him how I actually emailed a local photographer in late December to see about scheduling a maternity photo shoot for me in the spring.
Cue me crumbling, center stage.
I got really quiet, and Buster couldn't stand it.
"Will you talk to me??"
But I couldn't bring myself to speak, because I knew instead of words, tears would pour out. Buster started to get agitated, so I explained to him why I was sad (even though I really don't think I should have had to explain that... but again, men...).
I told him she never got back to me, which is for the best now, obviously.
And this is why I should have known my period was on its way. Emotional breakdowns in restaurants.
Today is CD2. I go in tomorrow for blood work and an ultrasound, and we will see if there will be an FET for us in March.
I sure hope there will be.