For a lot of my life, I was a planner.  You know, I had long term and short term goals and objectives, and I could answer the question, “where do you want to be in five years?” in three succinct sentences.  Then, I realized that my plans were only marginally helpful, easily susceptible to change, lacking in necessary flexibility, and sometimes, in hindsight, just stupid. 

So, I stopped being a planner and switched to being a rehearser.  As a rehearser, I try to roll with whatever life hands out, have some loose goals that guide me, but be open to other possibilities, and remember that what I want today might not be what the me of tomorrow wants.  BUT, I’m still nowhere near the land of spontaneity. 

To retain some control and order in my universe, I rehearse.  Have to make a difficult phone call today?  I play it over and over in my mind.  Get to share good news with a friend?  I say it to the mirror several times first.  Need a heart-to-heart with a family member to resolve conflict?  I imagine it over and over and over again when I should be counting sheep.  I even rehearse my future reactions to events that I think are likely.  Like, here’s how I’ll be when Chad gets a raise, or when Lucy perfects the new trick, or when Kimberly is appointed the US ambassador to Malaysia.

The last couple of months, though, have taught me that I probably need to switch again.  There are just some aspects of life that I can’t rehearse.  That’s true in part because other people aren’t always willing to stay on script.  It’s more true because I have finally hit a series of moments that I would have never imagined feeling the way I have felt about them. 

It started when we were in Maryland, and I felt totally bizarre, and I realized that I was pregnant. 

Of course I’ve rehearsed what it would be like to find out that I’m pregnant, but in my rehearsals, I was always staring at a positive pregnancy test, and Chad was close by, and we had been trying to have a baby for about ten years, and it had FINALLY! happened, and there are tears and cheers...

I never filmed this scene sitting at a hotel conference table and experiencing weird back pain and being able to smell everything in the room (and it was a nauseating, hideous mix of deodorants and colognes and plastic-y pastries and...oh, I can’t think about it anymore).  And in that moment, I just knew. 

So, I kept, you know, sitting there trying to learn about the tax implications of Chapter 11 bankruptcy filings and chewing spearmint gum in fistfuls to try to drown out the smells.  And I did that for several more days, quietly trying to put aside what I just knew because THIS WASN’T THE SCENE.  And I was paralyzed by having this realization in this way.

I waited until we were at Camden Yards watching the Orioles and the Sox to tell Chad.  There we were, in the blazing sun.  The stench of hot dogs (so sad to say it that way...I love ballpark hot dogs!) was overwhelming me.  And I stared straight at first base and said, “Chad, I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”

Well then Chad went WAY off-script.  He said, “Yeah, I figured you’d think you were soon since several of your friends are.”

Nice.

So I responded, in a way that, I will admit, was pretty terse, “You are going to look like such an asshole if I’m right about this.”  And we agreed that was the deal.

After that, I tried to rehearse the pregnancy test, but it was all too much, and I felt like I was swirling in a sea of weird nausea, strange pains, and general ADD.  When I took the test, it was positive, and I called Chad an asshole, and we laughed about that. 

And here’s a part that never made it into my little play.  We get the results and it’s like, “Now what?”

I never imagined that I would feel so much anxiety about whether things were ok, so protective of who I would tell and how, so paralyzed by the sense that I knew nothing about being pregnant or having a baby or ANYTHING important (WHY do I have these student loans? They taught me nothing! I know nothing!). 

From there, nothing went according to any rehearsal or plan.  I told some people much sooner than I wanted to because I knew they were watching me throw up literally every ten minutes and I didn’t want them to think that I had cancer or an eating disorder or whatever.  Some people just asked (as an aside, I have made a solemn vow to the universe to never, ever ask someone if she is pregnant, no matter what).  Some of the people I was excited to tell weren’t all that enthused, and one person who I most dreaded telling was curiously supportive (he responded, “that’s wonderful.  Children are everything.”) My Grandmother Joy said, “Well, you can’t undo that.”  Which was not what I expected, but it was very Grandmother Joy.  My sister still can’t really talk about it without getting choked up.

So, that’s where I’ve been for the last twelve weeks...lost in my head and spending all of my time sleeping or vomiting or trying to survive the moments between sleeping and vomiting.  My nails are long and strong, but I am wondering where my GLOW is?  I’ve been haggard!  Everyone assures me that I’m nearing the end of the “morning sickness” stage (the most ineptly named symptom ever because it very much has not limited itself to the a.m. for me).  I’m a mix of sick and happy and confused and exhausted.  I’m mostly grateful.  Even when I’m lying in the bathroom floor, I’m grateful. 

I haven’t been able to write anything, and I have missed it.  I’m sure I will have a lot to share now, and I promise to not make it all pregnancy craziness.

I wish I could have driven to your house, wherever you are, smiling and holding a Little Golden Book to tell you in person.  But, I learned in my transition from planner to rehearser that I don’t always know best, and as I move from rehearser to, I don’t know what...responder? survivor?...I’m learning that the way things unfold on their own is usually better than what I had in mind anyway.

-------------

And by the way, Happy Father’s Day, Chad.  You have been and I know will continue to be amazing.