I am happy. I am positive. But I realize now that the projected duration of said happiness and positivity doesn't stretch very far into the future. Yesterday in part of a long conversation Mia said, "Urs and I have our long holiday between December and January, so we'll come after Christmas. I will stay until the delivery in February but Urs might have to return for a few more weeks to work and then come back…we'll have to see when we get there!"
December? Delivery? I can't see past tomorrow's beta, much less preparing for delivery in December. Thinking that far forward implies that I would still be umm…pregnant at that time and it hasn't even sunk in that I'm…uuuh…getting positive tests and had a decent beta yesterday. I can't even use the p-word when talking about myself in the present context without twitching and feeling like I'm about to asphyxiate.
I think vast majority of us here in blogland are Clockwatchers. It's difficult for us to think forward any further than there are hours on a clock. We see whatever the next immediate major step is, be it bloodwork, a follicle scan, the fert report, transfer, etc, but there's always a but, unless, or if hovering somewhere between now and then: "Okay, so we got 13 eggs, but what if they don't fertilize well?" "I have my Clomid and I should have my IUI in about two weeks, unless I don't have any mature follicles to trigger."
I should have a good beta tomorrow – if things are still progressing the way they should inside. Yesterday's beta brought a degree of comfort and took me another small step forward, but you'd better believe I still tested again this morning and let out a huge sigh of relief that today's line is darker than yesterday's. And now, I watch the clock until tomorrow's beta, knowing that this morning's test has bought me another 24 hours of relative sanity.
Now that I'm…where I am…I find myself in very unfamiliar territory. I'm accustomed to being in the presence of other Clockwatchers. Calendarlookers are usually fertiles; the type who start planning baby showers before the stick is even dry. Now that Mia has read The Secret and has adapted this "new" way of thinking positively, she has become a Calendarlooker through and through. Don't get me wrong – I am happy for her, proud even. How many times have we thought or seen others think, "I am pregnant now, so why can't I just relax and be happy?" We yearn for that but it's too…heavy, for lack of a better word. Mia has acheived an infertile's mental nirvana of sorts, and though it feels foreign to me I am both pleased and somewhat relieved that she is not being crushed under the buts, unlesses, and ifs. But if things go wrong…well…I'm utterly terrified of what it might do to her. That is my greatest fear.
If we get through the betas and the first ultrasound unscathed, I see 9 weeks, 12 weeks, 13 weeks, and 25 weeks drawn as lines in the sand, the thresholds of Mia's and Urs' losses that must be crossed and left behind. This is my calendar view.
Oh, yes. It's much easier for me to just watch the clock and bask in the good news of the here and now.
Are you a Clockwatcher or a Calendarlooker? How far forward can you think before things start feeling all…weird and uncomfortable?