So, here is my problem

Courtesy of a phone call from a friend who knows me.

I feel that I am on a bit of a timeline with the universe here. Of course labour, being the traumatic even, is the focus, but it's larger than that. The question is, is it a malevolent or a benevolent world? (Yes, I understand it can be neutral, but I'm not really talking about the world at large but my heart's relationship to it.)

I have assiduously avoided dealing with this question for a long time. During Emily's pregnancy I did feel, strongly, that a part of my job in therapy and in things was to learn to ease up a bit. It's fine to be a hard-assed relatively self-sufficient person when you're only really responsible for yourself, because that hardness really only keeps you from whatever it keeps you from (some degress of connection, a certain skepticism, etc.). But my own feeling is that it's not the best position from which to raise children. I think kids need a lot of things, including learning that their parents will be hard-assed for them when appropriate, and to develop their own capacities and stuff.

But mostly I think they need a wide variety of people and experiences in their lives. Locking them up with some philosophy texts is not, to my mind, a good recipe. As I said a lot, I was always likely to have trouble leaving any child of mine anywhere I wasn't (or Carl wasn't) for a long period of time, especially before say, age 6 (or after age 14 - ahahahaha). But I was working very hard to be ready to spend time with other mums (and not being so picky as I am in my friends) and being open to family and willing to hang at the park and possibly go to a church and all these things that sort of say: here, community, connected.

And it was taking a lot of work. I mean my baby shower was a disaster in the planning, but wonderful in the event. I was trying to invite people in to this reasonably commonplace, but ultimately totally mindblowing, experience - the creation of a new human being. And that did carry us through a lot, and part of having Emily baptized with family around (and I will always regret that I sort of lost it around that point and started shutting people out too, telling people not to come like S to the hospital and Idaho to Toronto) was the last throes of that.

But the last.

Because I have this broken faith with the world. I did forever, growing up, 'cause of abuse stuff. And it was years of working on that that got me even to the point where I could consider it at all an idea that perhaps it didn't have to be that way and perhaps I wouldn't have to pass on that distrust to my kid. (Critical thinking skills - yes. A belief that all people are assholes - no.) But then this thing happened (physics and biology really - you squish this too hard, no blood can get through, so no oxygen gets in, so cells die). And people around me failed me in this very profound way.

And I still don't think it's a good idea to raise a kid expecting failure, or disaster at every turn. You have to be aware. But you don't have to be nuts.

So I still have to get up that mountain again. Now I appreciate that really it's not 7 months to do it (err - less - eek); it's more like years, and one can be in progress with it. But I still do feel like I have to at least, start. And when I think about it - perhaps, say, telling more people that I'm pregnant, or going to a church to start to see if I do think there might be something spiritual somewhere, or reading a baby book (not a pregnancy book, a baby book), I just feel like if I ease up I'll put myself way too much at risk. Can't do it again, nope.

Talking to this nurse on the phone I found I just don't believe her. I mean I believe all the bad things. But that there could be a baby at the end of it? Nope.

The fact is of course, that I am doing it again.

But I'm not quite sure how to keep doing it.