Saturday, February 28, 2015

Not in the Plans

February 13, 2015


I’m an organizer. I’m a planner. I can’t help it. So even though I am scared about the outcome of my pregnancies, I can’t help looking ahead.


With Olivia, I already knew how far along I would have been at Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. That made those days even harder as I passed them but wasn’t 20, 24, or 28 weeks pregnant.


I already had calculated how many more months I would have to suffer through the anxiety of only one doctor appointment a month before I would finally get to have the more frequent reassurance of bi-weekly, then weekly appointments. That made the new year even harder as I passed it but wasn’t going to the doctor at all.


I had already figured out that I wouldn’t do much participating at dance during parent participation week in February since I’d be a month from my due date by that point. That made this week a sad reminder of what should have been but isn’t. I was able to fully participate because I’m not hugely pregnant. It was bittersweet because I also had fun with my kids doing something I wouldn’t have done if things had worked out as planned. Ella’s sheer joy at having me in the room dancing along with her was priceless, and I’m happy to report I earned two stamps (one for good dancing and one for good listening) from her in both of her classes.  Lily’s growing confidence as a dancer was a point of pride as I watched her perform a dance segment she had choreographed herself in hip hop. That was all great. It just wasn’t the plan.


I had already determined that Olivia would be four months old when we go to the beach with my family this summer. I figured it would be a great age. Old enough to be past the newborn stage but not old enough to be mobile. We would bring our little tent to the beach and she’d be content to hang out in its shade while we spent our days in the sun. And think of all the loving arms that would contend to hold her! It was a nice thought…

I’d even had the audacity to look into the future as far as her first Christmas when she’d be nine months old. What a great age, I’d thought. Ha.

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