The best medicine

As I checked out at the doctor's office yesterday, I handed over a check for our portion of the eventual delivery of our baby. My hand shook a little as I did it, knowing that there is always a chance we might not make it that far. Being confidant enough though, I paid.

It feels early to do that. Last time though, I was already registered for all of my classes. I had bought maternity clothes. Guy and I were furniture shopping. Last time, this would be the last week I would be pregnant. In one week, we would say goodbye.

In a moment of what can be my frustrating penchant for reality, I asked,

"If we don't end up having a delivery, will this money be refunded or applied as a credit to our account?"

She looked at me blankly and said, "What do you mean?"

"If for some reason, something goes wrong, and we don't end up having this baby, what happens to the money I just gave you?"

She said through an inhale, "We try not to think like that."

"I'm not trying to be morbid, I'm just asking a question. It's not like I expect anything bad to happen."

And I laughed. Because it was funny. This poor girl had just been hit with the most morbid question of the day simply because I'm an annoying penny pincher. I was asking the question because I'm cheap, not because I expect something bad to happen. And her reaction was funny. And with me laughing, she could lighten up a little.

These things that I think are funny, and the things that make Guy laugh, are not always considered appropriate. We think it is hysterical that our Little Bird looks like a wrestler, or even more like Strongbad, as Karaoke Diva pointed out. Probably not everybody does.

But we like to laugh. Laughter heals pain. Sharing something that is funny keeps you connected. Laughing flat out feels good.

Laughter, however appropriate, runs in the family too. Yesterday my daddy and I had a good laugh at the fact that he may not be able to button his shirt, but at least he has never put his pants on backwards. When my mother broke both of her feet at the same time, you had better believe we got some laughs out of that one.

Life is funny. It has to be if you are going to enjoy it, because sometimes it sucks.

As Cleatus the Fetus' due date approaches, I waver between joy at this pregnancy and sorrow at that loss. During our schmooping time last night, I told Guy that I was probably going to be sad this coming week. He rubbed my head and told me that was fine, just don't go off the deep end.

And I laughed. Because looking back at how deep the deep end was, and how strong he had to be to pull me out, I am amazed. And the thought of going back there now makes me laugh. I wouldn't do it. Not to him. Not to me.

As we sat in the hospital room the evening of December 28, I couldn't get the last ultrasound image of Cleatus out of my mind. A baby that has stopped growing at 9 weeks has a large head. We sat there, neither of us quite ourselves, and I said,

"Well, with the size of that head, at least we know Cleatus was going to be a smart one."

Guy flashed a wicked grin at me and replied, "Yeah, but he wasn't going to be much of a runner."

And with that, we dissolved into laughter. Connecting with each other in the sadness through the healing power of funny love.

One of the many great things about Team Whymommy is all of the bloggers that I am reading for the first time. Right after finishing this post, I clicked over to check out I Can Fly, Just Not Up. Her tagline? The Crisis of Today is the Joke of Tomorrow. Amen, Heather.

Now I'm off to find an inappropriate boob joke to send to my BFF.