Early last year, we planned a cruise to Alaska for my mom’s
60th birthday in July. I was
instantly excited. Alaska! Pictures! Bucket list! Only 7 months to wait!
Catch looked at me like a crazy person.
Catch is cautious.
Reserved. She is not one to get
prematurely excited in the event that a change of plans will be monumentally
disappointing. She will do just about
anything to avoid disappointment.
I am the opposite. I
don’t want to miss out on one minute of build-up. If things fall through, yes, I will be
crushed—but in the meantime, why pretend?
Catch waits until about a week before anything major before
she starts showing signs of enthusiasm. It drives me CRAZY. We have the same totally predictable exchange
We’re going to do this, and then we’re going to do this, and then we’re going to do THIS! Aren’t you excited???!!!
Catch (Unimpressed): You know me. I don’t get excited until it’s
Sometimes, she’s the bucket of tepid water we throw on our
campfires at night.
She’s onto something, though.
My doctor called on Tuesday and said that my blood work was
textbook perfect and that since my period was so normal this time, she has no
reason to think that this cycle will be a bust.
If it is, she said we’ll start Clomid next month.
If Catch had been on the phone with my doctor, she would
have taken the information at face value and gone on with her day without
allowing it to occupy much more space in her brain.
Not me, though. Never
me. That would be too easy. I
am sitting here battling my excitement—trying to remind myself that all of the
enthusiasm in the world during past cycles hasn’t done a damn bit of good. All it does is leave me feeling like a popped
balloon—on the flip side, Catch’s balloon was never even inflated to begin
with. Who’s better off?
I can’t help but notice how it feels different this
time. Things are sliding into place without
effort. For the moment, I feel like my
hope isn’t unreasonable. I just want to
make it to the darn IUI. I fully
anticipate that we’ll need several, but gosh—it would be nice to make it that
I am trying so hard to curb my excitement and to stop
reading into things. For once, I would
like to let my teacher wife’s lesson rub off on me. This time, it would be nice to be able to
sail through any oncoming disappointment with a shrug of my shoulders and an “onward
and forward” attitude.