the something neuron
Before the Missus and I got Cat #1 and Cat #2, I really didn’t get cat jokes. That is, as a kid I loved reading Garfield, and I always chuckled when Cartman yelled, “No, kitty, it’s my pot pie! Bad kitty!” on South Park. But I didn’t understand the personalities of cats, all of their peculiarities, that added an extra level of knowing humor to some jokes. Now, though, when I watch a Meow Mix commercial, I nod my head instead of rolling my eyes. I get it now.
cat’s got my brain
I think I finally understand Schrodinger’s cat. In a non-quantum physics sort of way.
We keep wanting to talk about the baby, to plan for the baby, to rearrange our finances for the baby, and so forth.
But there isn’t a baby. There’s something else right now — or, at least, the promise of something else. The growth of something else. A blastocyst. Then an embryo. A fetus. And then…a baby?
The possibility of what it isn’t, though, is the haunting part. I mean, I think we can rule out a hysterical pregnancy. Missus keeps fretting about an ectopic pregnancy, which is scary but also unlikely. Miscarriage is another scary word. So is premature. And so forth.
We are somewhere new, though, because of something new. Some hormones, some symptoms, pee on a stick, otherwise-unexplained nausea. All in orbit around an unnamed thing — or, rather, a thing we can’t name yet. Or can’t bear to name yet. Or can’t bear yet to name and lose…or never have had.
It twists the mind, just like Schrodinger’s cat, though a lot, lot larger than a quark. And getting larger by the day. (Hopefully.)
as luck would have it
I remind myself daily that we’re extraordinarily lucky to be in lives we have. Developed country — the United States! Nice apartment in major metropolis — Boston! Loving relationship, supportive family, decent incomes, health insurance, etc.
Day-to-day, though, it feels hard to keep things “fair.” That is, things are already more than fair by our being so fortunate. But balancing the incidentals is where things never feel clear.
For example: Today, the cat must go to the vet. The cat (#2 of 2) has been having a progressively less pleasant kitty litter experience, and my role as the designated litter-man has become entirely solidified by the threat of cat poop to pregnant women. No problem, reasonable.
But, the last few trips to the vet across town have been hellish, especially with the pair of Cat #1 and Cat #2 together. Though this is an individual cat event, I need back-up. Is it fair of me to urge the Missus to come along?
Rather, it is fair when she’s feeling ill, highly reactive to cat smells, and not doing super in the car. Still fair to ask for her help?
“Fair” probably isn’t the issue. We do respect each other, and we do care about being there for each other. Mental resources are thin right now, and replenishments from family and doctors are still weeks away. We’re on psychological rations for the next few weeks as matters — both happy and sad, worrisome and exciting — eat at our respective brains.
Nom, nom, nom.
