Oh, and then there was that time I called out, "I'm on the toileeee!" when I heard what I thought were Steve's footsteps coming into the ensuite. They weren't Steve's. They were the carpet layer's. You may well ask yourself why I had a) not closed the door (not that the ensuite was anywhere near where anyone could see or hear someone was on "the toilee", b) why I had not remembered in the first place that there was a tradie in the house (for I had clean forgotten), and, most importantly, c) why I had called it a "toilee".
But I digress.
That was not my most cringe-worthy moment, no. No, that moment came when I was sitting beside my three week-old daughter in the NICU with Steve, enjoying a chat with my Obstetrician who had dropped by to say hello. He did this often, almost daily. It endeared me to the guy for life. In fact, he was the most frequent visitor we had. And I will never forget his care and kindness. Willing our girl on, with us. Come on, what's not to love about that?!
On this day, as we briefly chatted about this and that - his visits were never longer than a few minutes - he was talking about his wife (whose name I will change to save myself any further cringe-worthy embarrassment).
"Helen's left me..." was all he got out.
"What!? Is she insane???" I gasped before I could stop myself. It was involuntary. I couldn't help it. To this day, I desperately hope that if he remembers the speed with which I blurted out my sentiments and how ready I was to question his wife's decision, he will factor in my heightened hormones and that I was not of clear mind.
Everybody who has ever had a baby (rather, anybody who has been under the care of a nice Obstetrician to start with), I am sure, would be well aware of the phenomenon that is being under a giddy trance and loving him (or her?) with an almost fierce protective ownership. If you've had a good rapport with him during your confinement, chances are you take quite a shine - almost a worshipping - to the fellow by the time he delivers that baby safely. Particularly when you go into spontaneous early labour, like I did.
Well, anyway. Didn't I play my Blatantly Obvious card that day? In front of my highly amused, tight-lipped "You're On Your Own"-looking husband standing just behind and to the side of my beloved Ob.
AHEM.
My Obstetrician gave a polite laugh as he continued, "No, she's left me with the kids while she goes over to England to visit her aunt."
Oh. That kind of "left you".
Why does the ground never actually swallow you up when you want it to?
Can you tell me your most cringe-worthy moment?
You know, the one that, when thought of, causes an involuntary audible groan to escape you. And makes you flap your hands or slap your knees or run on the spot or do the "la-la-la's" to drown out the image if you think about it.
Come on, spill. Promise I won't laugh. Much.
