mercoledì, ottobre 24, 2012

A lot to not know

I'm wondering two things a lot these days: what sort of mum I'm going to be, and what sort of person Ren is going to be. It's probably illusory to think that I have a greater degree of control over what sort of mum I'm going to be than what sort of person Ren is going to be, especially as the two things are so intimately linked. But I do, of course. It's me, and I'm a reasonably self-possessed person, or at least one with a lot of expertise at seamlessly rationalizing her own actions - hard to tell the difference when it's yourself.

So anyways, I'm wondering what sort of mum I'm going to be. I don't know if you can extrapolate from how one is as a fetus-carrier. I reckon I've been a pretty good fetus carrier so far. No drinking, no coffee, lots of sleep, reasonable exercise, yoga, sensible eating besides the patisserie industrielle, used bottled water to boil my food in Shanghai, and all that good stuff. But not crazy. Not crazy like refusing or even hesitating to make that two and a half month trip to Asia and Europe during the second trimester. Having done it, enjoyed it so much (even without coffee, raw cheese, beer or crab meat), and looked back on advice from various people not to do it, it would have been an absolute travesty to have listened to them. Especially what with Granny dying since. Fraught as our relationship was, it'll be good to be able to tell Ren that she saw him or her "in utero". And it would have been much harder to miss her funeral.

Anyways, yesterday morning my blood presure seemed to really spike so I went to the hospital. I was thinking, and I suspect hoping since I'm really tired of being pregnant and I want to meet my kid, they might deliver Ren early to avoid the risk of pre-eclampsia, now that we're full term. But my blood pressure, pee tests, and the trace they did of Ren's movements versus heartbeat were all absolutely tip-top. I felt a little bad for making a fuss, but not really. Not really at all, actually. It won't do to take any risks with Ren. I already understand that. I can't even sound the depths of my fear that something will go wrong in the next little while, and I suppose I'll be worrying for the rest of my life that something will go wrong for him or her. And while I've never been terrifically cavalier about my own safety, I'm also deeply afraid of leaving the kid without a mother; I don't know if I'll be any prize, but I'm almost certainly better than nothing. Anyways. Back to risk. What I'm curious about, about myself as a mother, is what's going to count as a risk.

Probably the thing most outside of my control but what I'm least worried about is how the F-word will be as a father. He'll be great. I feel that even if something happened to us as a couple, he'd still be great. He's started dreaming about the baby too now, which somehow I find incredibly emotionally reassuring - like his brain has really started to take what's about to happen to us on board. Last night our dreams were wildly contrasting. He dreamt he was driving us home from the hospital while I nursed Ren, and I dreamt that Ren was a majestic moose emerging from the Grand Canal at the palace of Versailles. Both seem auspicious.

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