Sometimes it's the smallest thing that makes you fall in and out of love. Go to an adored restaurant and have horrible service - out of love. Go to a party and have a phenomenal experience - fall in love. Try a new drink - fall in love. Try same drink made by different bartender - out of love. Love is a Many Splendored - and fickle - thing.
With our little fetus it was ambivalence. Many people say that women become mothers as soon as they get pregnant - but for me? I know for me I adore my babies (the current one and the one lost) like crazy - but love? To quote Mariah Carey, "Love takes time".
I can't believe I just quoted Mariah Carey in reference to my fetus. But seriously? I think every once in a while there's a tiny butterfly of coherent thought in her gorgeous mound of hair. Cause loving my fetus did take more time than originally thought.
When we went into our ultrasound appointment, I was a tad bit more concerned with the fullness of my bladder than I was about the appointment. I had so looked forward to seeing the baby on the screen, but it turned out that the 24 ounces of water they make you drink was more preoccupying than the appointment itself. What can I say? The fullness of one's bladder is quite distracting.
But as we walked into the clinic and I climbed up on the table, I forgot all about the bladder problems of present and concentrated on the squirming, wiggling mass on the screen in front of me. It's our baby! It's still alive and well! Actually...as the appointment went on...it appeared that he was more than okay...it turned out he was a boy...he was super squirmy...he was lots of things that were astounding and absolutely cool, but were not love-inducing. At first. Sure he was inside me, and sure he was a squirmy mass of squiggly lines...but love? Doesn't love take personality...some connection between lover and lovee? With my cat, I love her. I love her personality, I love her ambivalence to us, I love the way she crawls on my face and bites my toes so that I'll wake up and feed her. I love the way she has nightmares and cries and cries for us, running into the living room with a mouse in her mouth so we can pet and comfort her until she feels better and walks away. I love all these things about her.
I had absolutely no frame of reference of a personality for our little dude that caused my heart to feel the stabbing pain of love. His mere presence is a heart stab, for sure - but I didn't know him. It was one heart stab, like a paring knife, instead of a chainsaw. I knew chainsaw stabs were on their way - probably prefaced by a chef's knife or maybe a carving knife - but I didn't know when. I just knew he existed. Therefore...ambivalence.
"Oh my god, did you see that?" The nurse was poking at my stomach, trying to get a good 3-D shot of him. It was only 17 weeks, still very early to see him clearly, but she was doing her best to get a good shot. I looked over at my husband, who was cracking up; trying to see if he saw what I just did.
"Did he just flip us the bird?"
"Oh wow." And I looked at the little boy-fetus on the screen, looked at the big, shit-eating grin on his scary little 3-D face, and looked at his little finger that was obviously pointing out in a clear and happy "fuck you" to his parents. And I knew, I just knew it was our child in there. Our child that had my crappy attitude, mixed in with my husband's ever-present cheerfulness. And then came the carving knife. It stabbed at my heart, and I fell deep...deep...deep in love with the little dude with the attitude in my womb. He wasn't just another fetus anymore - he had personality, he had attitude. He was hardcore.
He'll split my heart in two like I've never experienced before. I don't know if I'll survive the chainsaw, but it's going to be great.