I am a planner. I like to imagine something in its entirety, with every possible contingency known to man before it ever happens. I like to think that doing so prepares me for whatever the possible outcome is and lets me go with the flow a little.
Sometimes this works out beautifully, like the time I planned a trip for my husband and I down to Newport, RI. It included a scenic train ride where we had an entire cabin to ourselves, a great lunch and a really wonderful time. All my planning paid off and the entire thing went off without a hitch.
Sometimes, though, no matter how much I plan for something, it doesn't come to be. Case in point: my last eight pregnancies ended in eight miscarriages. You don't exactly plan for those, now do you?
Planning makes me feel safe, however, and I'm having a really hard time right now with the fact that I have a "plan" for this next cycle. On the one hand, it makes me feel good and safe: We have a plan! A series of steps to take! Steps that are in place to ward off any number of different contingencies! On the other hand, it's got me completely freaked out because we all know that there is no planning for these things.
So I'm trying for pretty much the first time ever, to not focus on what's going to happen. I'm focusing instead on other, little things.
I got five inches cut off my hair
We baked cookies
I scheduled some playdates (and then canceled them when my son came down with the croup - see above about no planning for things sometimes)
And I'm just trying to enjoy the holiday season (as much as one can with a hacking child in the room across the hall)
One of the hardest lessons I've ever had to learn occurred shortly after my son was born: He is his own person and I can plan all I want to for him to do something, but in the end he's going to do what he's going to do. And all I have is influence.
All I have in this next cycle is influence and I find it very hard to accept.