Cancellations

I've realized the only thing I hate worse than surprises (see previous blog for more on that topic) is cancellations. And I'm not talking about when someone you really didn't want to see anyway cancels lunch, or a writing assignment is cancelled on a day when you really just wanted to go shopping anyway.
I'm talking about cancellations of things that you are really REALLY looking forward to. Like an audition for a musical group you've been envying for months (got postponed two days ago), or a meeting with someone who has tons of great nutrition and baby health advice (cancelled this morning, she is sick --- go figure).
Or the worse cancellation of all -- an appointment when you are supposed to hear, feel and SEE your adorable alien of a baby on a giant plasma screen. It's basically like going to see that amazing Natalie Portman movie that you've been waiting months to see, and then being denied a ticket at the door. Sure, you can go back later and see it. But on that night, you were ready -- you read all the critics' reviews, watched the trailer online and had your gas station candy in your purse. Being told to "come again on Wednesday" is not only annoying -- it's crushing.
As you may have gathered, I was supposed to have my ultrasound yesterday, and I was supposed to see little hands and feet on a colossal screen while I sobbed into a box of Kleenex (and nibbled on the gas station candy in my purse). I was going to hear the words "you are having a boy" or "you are having a girl." I had read all the online guidelines for the ultrasound and viewed dozens of other mommies' pictures from their visits. I was ready -- but the ultrasound tech had the stomach flu.
And as mad as I wanted to be -- how could she do this to me? --, my better judgement was kicking into overdrive. Who was really the victim here? Myself, who had to wait a few more measly days to see an even bigger and more defined baby, or the tech who was hugging her toliet all day and swearing off sushi? No one was at fault. So why did I feel so abused?
I realized then that this is only the beginning of what little control I will have over the life of my child. Sure, I can make an impact, but there are too many other factors outside my control that will influence his or her experiences on Earth. And I really need to get used to that fact and stop trying to be uber-mommy. There will be days when he or she spits up all over the cute outfit that I picked out especially for our visit to see Grandma Sally. Other times, no matter how much hugging, singing and cajoling I give, my child will continue to cry and disrupt my vision of domestic bliss. And at some point my child will look at me and say, "Mom, I know you may not approve, but this what I am going to do." I know this is true, because I have been that child in all of those situations.
There is no crystal ball for parenting. I won't always be able to see my child when I want to, on my exact terms. I can carry the diaper bag, and digital camera, and all the cheap candy 7-Eleven has to offer, but the fact is that there are moments I will miss, and times that I will drop the ball.
So there's a lesson (cue the cheesy Full House music) in all of this. Maybe a cancellation is just a postponement to something even bigger and better, and maybe with just a little help from Mom, the inevitable influences of the outside world really can be bearable.