Going through IVF, there is always that one (or twenty) person that thinks it's so very funny (and oh so original)to say something about the lab mixing up the embryos and transferring someone else's into your uterus. Or, the people who swear they have a friend that had a friend that did IVF and totally ended up with someone else's baby...it was clear it wasn't hers because it was a different race! No really, it's not an urban legend. Really, it was their friend's friend. They saw the baby! It was at their house. Totally.
Realistically, I knew she was ours since frankly, there weren't any other embryos in the lab at the same time as ours (small clinic). I know because I asked, while I was on Valium mind you, if they wanted to transfer someone else's embryos since the only two we had to transfer were lousy quality. Hey, IVF is expensive! I needed to increase my odds. We're happy to say Sabrina is proof of the saying, "Some of the ugliest embryos make the prettiest babies." I'm sure all you fertiles out there are sick of hearing that one, right?!
But the only reason I knew Sabrina really was ours was the fact that there wasn't even a chance of a screw up. Because she looks nothing like me. In addition, thus far she's proved to be a very happy and social baby. She enjoys people. This is something we don't share. She looks just like Chris, and shares his zest for life. I was nowhere to be found, which was fine, to be honest. I'm under no delusion that my not-so-sunny disposition needs to be replicated any time soon.
Then...the tantrums started.
Not that I'm prone to throwing tantrums per say, but I know what I want and admittedly, if I don't get it, it can make me unhappy. I don't often outwardly display these emotions (anymore) as they aren't particularly endearing, but make no mistake - it happens on the inside quite frequently.
Sabrina being 6 months old hasn't quite mastered that control so her emotions are clear for everyone to see. Especially everyone in the grocery store. I have always been quite confident that I wouldn't be that mom, throwing a cookie in her kid's mouth so he or she will be calm and quiet in the grocery store. MY kid would simply obey. Be disciplined enough that when I tell her to stop something, she'd just, you know, stop. Because I would be consistent with my discipline, and consistency is the key. So we'd be fine.
Not that I can or want to discipline a 6 month old, but it was clear that my position that I won't be that mom has been shattered. It was shattered the second Sabrina started screeching and crying the second I took the receipt out of her mouth and in my panic, I gave it back. Then I realized she probably shouldn't consume the ink, so I took it back and the fit ensued. Frantically I unhooked her from the massive contraption we call a grocery cart cover and bounced her all around...and noticed the smirk she had on her face. That frightened me. It's deliberate.
I may be wavering on my discipline/consistency theory, but one thing I can say for certain: I will not push Sabrina around in those grocery cart with the big ass plastic car thing in the front. They are atrocious and way too large for the grocery store aisle. Mark my words.