But one thing that continually blows my mind:
I am clearly not gifted in painting on computer applications. Or painting of any kind, really. Shopping cart full of groceries. Baby in shopping cart. A billion other parking spots. Car that has never had this happen to them sits with blinker on for ten minutes. Mom resists raising her fist (or worse) to cute little blue car. Onlookers give mom the eye like it's her fault for having a baby AND getting groceries (the horror). Mini parking lot jam is caused. The end.
Forget feeding the hungry baby before leaving.
Seriously, this has happened to me on countless occasions, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out the motives behind it.
Oh, and one more thing: bald babies ≠ boy babies. Also, Pink ruffles generally ≠ boy babies. And Eisley ≠ Isaac.
I have been waiting for today for a month. Not exactly looking forward to it, but looking forward to putting it behind me. After some red flags, I decided to get a second dermatology opinion, and went in for a surgical procedure today. Varying amounts of pain after the medicine wore off has left me promising that childbirth is more fun. The new doctor was an answered prayer, and I feel like a heavy weight was lifted, both for my own health and Eisley's.
Two months ago, a red mark appeared on Eisley's temple. After a week of debating whether it was a scratch, a normal baby skin issue, or petechiae, I settled on none of the above and decided it was a red mole. I watched it grow over the next month, at such a slow rate, I couldn't decide if I was making it up. When we visited the pediatrician's office, the doctor told me it was called a vascular birthmark. Ironically, that afternoon, it spidered out and looked very much like blood vessels. After some careful googling, I decided it was most definitely a hemangioma. That was confirmed today. It will likely continue to grow, though it is still considered so small they are technically unable to diagnose it as such. After it has run it's growth course, it will begin to shrink and will eventually disappear.
A visit with a very knowledgeable, compassionate doctor who carefully explained my options, the way he sees things, and the way to go about things, I left feeling high with relief.
On a quiet drive home with a salted caramel mocha at my fingertips, and music peacefully pouring through the speakers, reflections were made and thanks were given. There is always something to be thankful for. Always.