The Best Laid Plans ...

THE BEST LAID PLANS …

“Excuse me?”

“I said, ‘you’re pregnant.’”

“Really?” 

The doctor looked at Faye. Faye looked at the doctor.

“You’re sure?” asked Faye.

“We are. One hundred percent,” said the doctor.

“Really,” said Faye, nodding her head slightly

Faye had not been feeling particularly good lately. Especially in the morning. Because she knew that she was healthy, and because she monitored all aspects of her health daily with a myriad of devices — FitBit and Apple Watches, digital thermometer, blood pressure cuff, blood oxygen monitor, DNA health monitors, blood sugar monitor, sleep monitor — she knew that there was something wrong. She just didn’t know what that something was. So she had called her family doctor, Dr Levin, and made an appointment (which she had to work around the already planned events and meetings). She had arrived with all of the readouts and records from all her devices. The doctor read the readouts, had examined her, taken blood, asked some general questions, and made a followup appointment for two days later.

And here they were.  

“Are you happy or upset with your pregnancy?” Dr. Levin had asked.

Faye had taken a moment to consider the question.

“Well, overall it’s a split decision,” she said. “Benjamin and I want children. But, I had planned to get pregnant in August, for a May birth.  It’s much nicer weather in May. Now, this baby will be born in …” she did the math in her head “August. Not the greatest month. That means that I will be pregnant for most of the summer, but the baby will be born in hottest month of the year.  Not ideal for nursing.”

“So …,” prompted the doctor.

“Yes, I’m very happy. It’s just that I have to consider the impact being pregnant right now will have on my life. On our life. I hadn’t planned on getting pregnant until next summer, as I said. My optimum schedule has changed, but this is still doable.”

The doctor had been Faye’s physician since she was eighteen, and knew this pregnancy would be a trying time for Faye. She was a hyper-organized, determined thirty-year-old woman, who orchestrated her life down to the minutia, and left very little to chance. That was all about to change.

“I suppose that I need some prenatal vitamins, an OBGYN referral, Lamaze coach, doula, midwife.” She stopped and looked at the doctor. “Too much?”

The doctor smiled. “Not at all. An informed patient knows what they want.”

Later that night, when Benjamin arrived home from work, Faye told him. He was ecstatic.

“I’m going to be a dad! Amazing! We’re gong to be parents! I can’t wait to tell everyone!”

He grabbed Faye, and hugged her tight.

“Not yet, Benjamin. I’d prefer if we could wait until after the first trimester. You know, in case something goes wrong. I don’t want to have to explain things. If we could wait until January, it should be good.”

Benjamin agreed, but he knew that it was going to be hard to keep this secret. He was just so damn happy!

As the days ticked by, Faye struggled. First of all, she had to get up twenty minutes earlier to factor in vomiting time. She tried to plan throwing up before she started getting ready for the day, but it didn’t always go according to schedule, much to Faye’s chagrin. But she considered herself lucky, as she was usually nauseous only in the morning, instead of throughout the entire day. But it was a struggle, and so difficult to schedule. 

One morning, on the way to work when she was sitting on the bus, she knew that she was going to vomit. She rushed to the front of the bus.

“Stop please. Morning sickness.”

The driver obliged, preferring to make an unscheduled to cleaning up pregnant lady barf.

Faye had thrown up into the gutter, while holding on to the side of the bus, with everyone onboard watching. She was mortified. The bus driver had kindly waited for her to finish, but she waved him away, being much too embarrassed to get back on the bus and face the other passengers.  

By the time she walked to the bus stop, and waited for the next bus, and missed her express subway to the stop closest to her work, she was forty-five minutes behind schedule, which meant that she had to rearrange her entire schedule for that day. And she had vomited in public. Faye decided right then and there to drive to work for the rest of her pregnancy. No more street vomiting.

And she was tired. Used to working twelve hour days, working out three or four times a week, and going for a short three mile run every morning, Faye was lucky if she could drag herself home after ten hours at the office.  

Her new OBGYN, Dr. Roberts, said that fatigue was very common in pregnant women. She assured Faye that it was perfectly normal. Faye did not like that diagnosis. She fumed about it until she fell asleep in her office later that day.

By mid-December, Faye had started to notice other changes in her body. The most obvious change was her breasts. They had started to swell. Again, much to Faye’s chagrin. Not so much Benjamin.

“Argh!” Faye shouted while trying to get ready for work.

Benjamin stuck his head into her closet.

“What’s up?” he said, looking around.

“This blouse! It’s too tight!”

Benjamin looked at the white silk blouse Faye had on.

“It looks fine to me.”

“Look,” she said, pointing to the slight stress between the top two buttons. “I can’t wear clothes that don’t fit!”

Faye had all her clothes tailored to her frame. She was pleased with her body, and felt that her clothes needed to fit perfectly. And now they didn’t. Her blouses were the first to rebel. Faye’s formerly well-made, size appropriate blouses had a bad case of what her mother used to call gape-itis — where the material between the buttons no longer lays flat but stretches open because it’s too tight, exposing skin.  

“I can’t wear this!” she moaned. “I have no clothes that fit me!”

Benjamin chuckled, used to Faye’s doomsday predictions.

“Don’t worry, Babe. You look great. Put on a sweater, or cami, something without buttons. It’ll be fine.”

“But this,” said Faye, pointing to her blouse and the business suit she had laid out, “is what I planned to wear today."

“Then change the plan,” Benjamin said, a serene smile on his face. “Or wear the blouse that doesn't fit. Your choice. But you’ve got to make one before you’re late for work. And we both know how much you hate being late for work.”

He bent over and kissed Faye’s forehead.

“You'll look beautiful in whatever you decide to wear.”

She sighed, and thought, I can wear a cami. I don’t want to wear a cami. But I can wear a cami. Change of plans. I hate change of plans.

In January they told their friends and family, who were overjoyed for the couple. But it did make for a few uncomfortable conversations.

“So, honey, how are you coping with all the changes,” asked Isabel, Faye’s mother.

“Fine, I guess. So many changes. I’m gong to be so happy when this baby is born, and everything can go back to normal.

Oh dear, thought Isabel, thinking of the next six months. And beyond. In particular the beyond. She was certain that her daughter was going to be disappointed that “normal” as she recognized it no longer existed. She started to mentally prepare for an extended stay with her daughter.

Faye stood looking in her closet, in particular at her shoes, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Each of her outfits had coordinating shoes to go with it. That wasn’t to say she couldn’t mix it up, and wear one outfit and a different pair of shoes if she wanted. But she didn’t want to. She preferred to go with her plan, always. And that was the reason that she was staring at her lovely collection of shoes, most of which had heels, and most of which she wouldn’t be wearing for at least six months. (Luckily, no one had told her the awful truth that sometimes a woman’s feet get larger during and after pregnancy, and never return to their original size, so she didn't have that worry.) Right now though, she needed shoes. Between the fluid settling in her ankles, the leg cramps, and the bouts of dizziness, heels where a no go. This was more upsetting to her than it should have been, but she put it down to increased hormones. She wiped her tears away, and headed to the mall.  

Faye selected the mall because, like it or not, she also needed new clothes. In particular a new bra. Although not as cute as her regular breasts, these were hers, at least for the foreseeable future, and they needed to be harnessed properly. And she needed larger camisoles. As she was walking through the mall after buying three pair of flats, she passed a maternity shop, and stopped. She didn’t need maternity clothes yet, did she? Sure Bean (as she’d been referring to the baby) was starting to show, but this was absolutely too early. By her estimation, she wouldn’t need maternity clothes for what, another month?

As she stood looking in the window at the styles on display, she pulled at the waistband of her skirt — A skirt that just last week had refused to button at the top, and was now fastened with an elastic extender.

Maybe it is time, she thought reluctantly. Then cheered herself up by the thought that it would be amazing to be able to sit down without the waistband cutting her in half.

An hour and a half later Faye exited the store with two pair of pants and two skirts — both adjustable — and the coup de gras, a maternity bra.

Later that evening when she showed her purchases to Benjamin, he had effused at how nice the new clothes and shoes were.  

“They are nice,” Faye agreed, “but this is way ahead of schedule. I shouldn’t have had to buy any new clothes for at least a month. I don’t like it when things don’t go according to plan.”

Benjamin smiled and hugged Faye.  

“It’s okay,” he said. “Sometimes you just have to change the plan.”

It was July, and there was no doubt that Faye was pregnant. She was sure that she was visible from space. And it was hot. And humid. And she was so uncomfortable — heartburn, constipation, hemorrhoids, having to pee all the time, anemia. It was just too much. And none of it expected. Sure Faye had read about these issues, but she was sure that she would be spared these problems. She had always taken her health seriously, and now felt betrayed by her body. She didn’t plan for any of these negatives side effects of pregnancy, and was struggling to incorporate them into her new normal.  

“Just a couple more weeks, honey, and it’ll be over,” said Benjamin, rubbing her terribly swollen feet and ankles. “Once Bean’s born, then all these problems will all be in the past.”

“I guess,” said Faye leaning back on the couch while Benjamin massaged her feet. “It just seems that I have been pregnant forever. I can hardly remember what it was like when I wasn’t pregnant.”

She paused and shut her eyes, luxuriating in the kindness from her husband.

“I can hardly wait until things can go back to normal.”

Benjamin stopped rubbing her feet, and looked at her.

“Uh, back to normal? I’m not sure that’s an option. Bean’s going to be here, and well that completely changes our lives.”

“Not necessarily,” said Faye, eyes still closed.

Faye was an only child, and had never had any exposure to babies. Benjamin, on the other hand, was the eldest of six. There were fifteen years between him and his youngest sister, Emily. He remembered how exhausted his mom had been during that last pregnancy, and how overwhelmed she had been after Em was born. He remembered the crying, the middle of the night feedings, the diapers, the constant attention that a baby needed. He wasn’t sure Faye understood the changes that were in store for both them.

“Faye, have you thought this through?”

She chuckled. “Of course I have! When have I not thought anything through?”

“But babies have their own agenda. There’s an old saying, make a plan, and you’re not a parent.”

She sat up on her elbows and looked at Benjamin, a slight smile on her face.

“How hard can it be? Really? Babies are pretty small, and really don’t need that much, just food and changing. And they sleep all the time. I’m ready.”

“Have you ever been around anyone with a baby? They’re a lot of work.”

“I’m sure. But there are two of us. I’ve got it all planned out. How hard can it be?”

Pant, pant, pant. Kee, kee kee. Innnnnhale. Exxxxxhale. Pant, pant, pant.

“It’s not time.” Pant, pant, pant. “This isn’t the plan.” Pant, pant, pant. “We need to stop this.” Pant, pant, pant.

Benjamin looked at Faye. Her face was red and sweaty, her hair damp and stringy. She’d been in active labour for four hours. Benjamin thought that she had never looked more beautiful.

“Sweetie, we can’t stop it. You have to go with the flow.”

“But Bean’s early. Four days early. I have things to do. This isn't the plan!” Pant, pant, pant.

“Babe, you’ve got to forget about the plan. Bean wants to come out now. And what Bean wants, Bean gets, at least right now.

Faye’s labour lasted another two hours. When it was over and their beautiful baby boy had been born, the doctor handed him to Faye.

When she looked down at her squalling, red-faced little miracle, she knew that plans didn’t matter. Not really. There were things in this world that were more important than schedules and agendas and timetables. She knew she was holding the biggest time suck of her life. And that was alright.