Growing up...

I'm at the phase in life where the phrase, "The more I know, the more I realize how little I know," defines me.

The best-laid plans don't always come to fruition, and rather, go through numerous life-happens revisions (aka plan B, edited repeatedly) - so much so that the plans one has at the beginning of college do not even resemble the doings that person recounts to everyone at the 10-yr. high-school reunion. I've learned to refrain from making plans which have the word never in them. You know, "My kids will never talk to me that way," or "I would never stay with a man who cheated on me." Time has shown me that it's damned near impossible to adhere to such plans, because unless it's happened before and I absolutely know I wouldn't or couldn't tolerate something to the point of attaching the word never to it, I don't have so much as a clue as to whether my plan is an idle threat or a firm promise to myself and the involved party.

I had a ten-year plan at one time. At age 16, I was insistent that at 18, I would get in to college with the aid of scholarships (I'd always been a straight A student), study psychology, go to graduate school where I would study more psychology, get more letters behind my name, set up private practice as a counselor/psychologist, work for a while, live independently, find a nice man to marry and start a family when we felt ready. I had mapped out how I would support myself through school, beyond scholarships - enthralled with the idea of free room and board, I'd planned on working as an RA for the dorms my 2nd year and on; I'd thought about moving to a different state, picturing an urban-chic single chick existence...enter life happens - revision 1 to the plan.

I met a guy...............

At age 16.5, one of my then best friends became my boyfriend. He moved to Denver to live with his brother while I finished my senior year of highschool, and we did the long-distance thing. We were able to date in much closer proximity while I attended Colorado State University just an hour north from him.

We were young, in love....and stupid.

I say stupid because looking back now, things would have been different. Not I-don't-love-you-we-were-too-young different, but things would have moved a little slower than they did...anyway I digress, life came in and did its work to my plan.

We got engaged, and six months later, at the age of 19, I was married.

Just a minor change to the plan, right?

Right....I could still finish college and press forward with grad school. The Mister was totally on board for that. So I plugged my way through college, working, married, and driven to succeed. So much so, I got a wild hair to finish early by a semester. In the summer of 2000, I was taking classes, doing an internship for a local NPO, and preparing to submit an application for graduate school, studying for the GRE....life happens-revision 2 came crashing in.

July 3, 2000...Amazing how one day changes a person's whole world.

My period was a week late, leading me to take a whole other kind of test than planned. I was so busy and, not wanting to worry Seth in the event of a false alarm - don't laugh- I bought an HPT the night before, shoved it in my back-pack, and peed on the stick in a university basement bathroom stall - dimly lit in summer energy conservation efforts, too, I might add.

That second line was almost a figment of my imagination...so much so, I left the stall, furtively glanced around to ensure I was, in fact, alone, held the test up to the flickering fluorescent light, and, sure enough, there was a second line.

A faint second line, but a second line, the "A line is a line," line. FREAK OUT!

I'd just turned 21. JUST TURNED 21!

For a split second, I mourned the latest revision of my plan. SPLIT SECOND...then, tears of inexplicable joy!

Then the whirlwind of thoughts racing wildly: "A life is inside me!?! The man I love and I are going to bring a creature with both our DNA into the world - a baby boy or girl? -names - I gotta call the Harmony House - there's no way I can go in tonight, I have to tell him - in a special way - but first, I need to get this confirmed, don't I need a doctor? A prenatal vitamin? Oh I hope I don't have morning sickness, I start Physio Psych Lab in a few weeks (dissection of human brains, formaldehyde) - Oh, crap, class just started again!"

My study partner saw me come in late to class, noticed my face, and furiously whispered, "What is going on...something's going on, you can't not tell me!" I grabbed the stick and held it under the table we sat at. Her mouth formed a large "o" and she hugged me. I was graduating in 6 months...I would graduate and then have this baby. Could I get my cake (the first generation of college graduation in my family) and eat it too (starting a family with my beloved)?

I couldn't tell you what the remaining lecture was about. I know we were talking about the clinical reliability and validity of commonly used testing measurements, the Stanford-Binet IQ test, Beck Depression Inventory, etc, b/c of the class notes prior to intermission, but afterward?

Not a clue.

to be cont'd