The lesson of the day is...

...stay away from movies about babies when you're having trouble getting pregnant.

Okay, so the adds for Knocked Up came out a few months ago, right in the height of all our fun and bad news. At the time I kinda snickered, hehe, looks funny, Hubs wanted to see it (he loves that 40 Year Old Virgin stuff - like, watches it once every few weeks - seriously), and that was that.

Then all of the sudden, June 1 was here, and it was out in theatres. Having just come back from our nice restful trip in Cuba and hearing great reviews about it, we of course elect to go see it as soon as we can.

Now, I actually wasn't worried about how I'd react prior to entering the movie theatre. Surprising, eh? But nope, knowing it was a comedy with funny folk and a good writer was somehow enough for me to keep the anxiety butterflies fluttering around someone else's flower.

So Hubs picks me up from the train, we go for dinner, then decide to share a nice dessert at Demetres. This dessert ceased to be nice the minute we discovered a big black hair in our banana split - ewwww. And since neither Hubs nor I have black hair...yep, wanted to puke on the spot.

Needless to say the conspicuously black-maned manager came to see us shortly after we'd returned our hair split to the kitchen and offered us $15 worth of hand packed ice cream. Uh, yeah. Thanks. Can you make this one follicle free, pretty please? Thanks so much.

Since we were off to the cinema, Mr. Prematurely Shedding Into Our Whipped Cream promised he'd keep our bounty safe in the freezer while we watched the movie, then we could pick it up on our way out. Excellent - just be sure to store it in the no hair-ing section.

Enough about hair. Yucky.

So the movie. Funny - check. Great one liners - check. Excellent cast - check. More than one laugh out loud moment - check. Will it be watched again - check. Was I bawling my face off once we finally made it to the car - check.

I was pretty ticked off at myself and my reaction, actually. I was doing SO well, only two episodes in the whole movie threatened to derail me. First was a scene where they're all shopping for cribs (no worries - I'm not giving anything away here) and on the faux wall behind this beautiful white crib there's a fabric wall hanging with a monkey on it. In and of itself, no big whoop. But when it's the very same object you were staring at as you fought back tears in a similar shop five minutes after hearing your sister was pregnant again, it comes as one hell of a sucker punch to the system.

The other super hard part was the birth itself. All those things that I picture for Hubs and I - that moment when we first get to see and then hold our baby (man, I'm crying again as I even type this)...I'm just so worried we will never get our moment like that. And here it is played out so beautifully before me, taunting me, reminding me that moments like this happen for other people all the time, every minute of every day all over the world.

I'm going to try to stop feeling sorry for myself now. The movie's over, I had my good cry (or two), Hubs has hugged me 'til I squeaked and tried so hard to make it better...I'm just gonna chalk all this up to the extra progesterone that's coursing through my veins in an effort to move this process along.

Hormones are a bitch.

So now I will bid you all good night and go upstairs to snuggle with my husband, who somehow always knows just what to say and do to make it better. And who never gets hair in my food.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?