mousetail: Sleeping mouse with a pink box (bellyapple)
[personal profile] mousetail
When I think of getting wound up, the first thing I imagine is getting agitated, but that is, after all, not the original and direct meaning of the word, is it? Winding up, literally, is something you'd do to a mechanism, like a clock, to make sure it keeps on going for a while...


When I look back at my pregnancy, or even a few years prior, I distinctly remember that feeling of getting wound up - in the original, mechanical, sense. I started out as somebody more interested in adoption than regular childbirth: my desire to adopt is at least a decade older than my daughter. Then, things slowly began to change. First, I met a man who actually made me want his child, not a child with him. Then, we built a house with one room already planned, and partially decorated, as nursery. That was about 1.5 years before I even got pregnant. We carefully considered our finances, sacrificing career prospects and upward mobility for immediate security and German benefits - a most wise, maybe the only wise, decision that I've ever made and ever mourned :) After making sure I was in the job long enough to qualify for the whole package of maternity perks, I quit the pill and we started trying.

While I wasn't desperate to get pregnant, a part of me began to wonder, after 8 month of no success, if anything was wrong. Now I see that time as a part of winding up process: in these 8 month, we started casually buying some gender-neutral baby things, we did a ton of traveling - in case we won't be doing that as much later on (and we don't), we made some parent friends and carefully observed them. My BFF got pregnant and gave birth at that time, and we got some insights into German healthcare, at least the maternity part of it. By the tine I finally got pregnant, I was invested in this parenting thing more than I imagined I could ever be. But of course, through the next 6 months of uneventful and healthy pregnancy, I was getting wound up even more.

I believe that it was all a part of a divine plan, carefully devised to keep me going, as a tic-tac toy, at the time when I would be doomed to fall apart if left alone. I would prefer to believe that it were my moral convictions, my faith, my obedience to God's will that kept me from doing the wrong thing when they told me my daughter's disability is so significant that they cannot even predict if she'd live after birth. But deep inside I know and He knows that the main reason I kept going was the fact that my internal mechanism was wound up so well, it was nowhere near ready to stop. It would shatter to pieces if stopped right then, so I did the only thing I could, the only thing I was prepared to do - carried on.

It kept me going through three baby showers and countless prenatal ultrasounds, gave me energy to decorate the nursery, complete baby-shopping, read parenting books. It pulled me through natural childbirth class and surgical birth afterwards. The pain. The joy. The fear. The horror of NICU, the worry of our first medical appointments, the 1.5-year long intimate relationship with a breast-pump...

Sometimes I wonder if I'm still driven by this mechanism. Sometimes I wonder what will happen if it ever fully unwinds.


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mousetail: Sleeping mouse with a pink box (Default)
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June 2013

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