It was early Spring 1985, and I was having my annual gynecological exam. It was a busy time in my life. I was a second-year law student, and I was interviewing for summer jobs. I hoped to secure an internship at a good law firm for the summer before my final year, which would then transition into a permanent employment offer after graduation. It was the strategy that most of my classmates envisioned, but mine had one additional complication: I wanted to start a family.
Unlike my male classmates, having a child held huge employment implications. I couldn’t envision taking any significant time off from work for at least several years after starting my career, and I didn’t want to wait to have a child. The perfect solution was to give birth, if possible, during my third year of law school.
At the end of my exam, I tentatively asked my doctor how I could maximize the odds of having a baby during the winter break before my final semester of law school. My physician looked at me sharply and barked that I couldn’t schedule a baby delivery to coincide with a three-week holiday. I left the examination room feeling admonished but also a little stubborn. I wasn’t confident I could get pregnant, but I wanted to improve the odds with a formulaic approach.
You see, I’m a bit of a planner.
As an undergraduate student I mapped out my coursework assignments so that they were neatly completed right before I needed to study for exams. Later in my marriage, I kept a large refrigerator calendar on which color-coded family appointments and deadlines were maintained. My weekends were calculated to maximize every minute; I even scheduled time to relax. I held periodic summit meetings with my husband to discuss projects, events, and checklists. I knew what each workday morning would bring from board meetings, caring for my mother, and traffic management.
Oddly enough, my exercise life in those days was unscripted and chaotic. I viewed working out as important, but not essential, and I simply fit it in whenever I could. I envisioned running a certain number of days per week but invariably failed to execute. Gym membership fees were mostly squandered; group aerobic classes were intimidating and unappealing. I was beleaguered by self-disappointment and troubled by lack of self-discipline. I finally eliminated exercise drama when I created and cemented a daily exercise habit. It improved my fitness, and, as importantly, freed me from negative internal dialog.
On January 7, 1986, our first son was born, as planned, right before my final semester of law school. When he was two weeks old, I began hauling the feisty and colicky little boy back and forth on my law school commute. I finished the final semester and graduated on-time with my class.
Like habit formation, careful planning doesn’t guaranty success, but it sure beats impulsivity if you have a specific objective. Now if I could just design a highly reliable course of action to win the lottery, my grand plan would be fulfilled.