Misleading title for sure. But its the book I am currently reading by Elena Ferrante which is her pen-name and it is fabulous if tiring in sections and the entire book is basically my most deep rooted but not always acknowledged fear of being left alone eventually. Just me. I don't ever think about this fear unlike other more common place ones because its hard to get myself out of it and sure helps being married to A. So its almost always resting in a safe, deep place and gets triggered only rarely, if ever.
Which is why reading this prompted me to text A with, " If you ever wanted to leave, don't do it like a thief. Just let me know without stepping around it for months/days."
And he said, "But I don't want to leave."
Which is all great, but just in case he did, I think what would make it absolutely *irrecoverable* from is the lying. I think I could get over being left but not being lied to.
What is with the morbidness! Yes?
All right baby talk. Baby is about 10 weeks away which is mind blowing because where did all that time go! I wrote in baby book a bit and therefore neglected the blog and then somehow baby book also has been chucked for a while. Got to start again. We got some initial shopping done-bare bones. Just a few onesies and her changing pad. We should probably get started on the rest.
Still no name for baby except the long list and we figure seeing her face might help. Otherwise I am good and quite hale and hearty. Mum is here. Dad left in a week. Mum admits when she is being over bearing which is amazing by itself and so I don't pick every bone esp considering that this is a favor she is giving me and one that I must respect. It's cold over here but we still manage to get out and about a bit before the actual snow dump begins. I love home, how dark and warm it is in the evenings. I like hearing A's key in the door and his tired but happy face. I like the food mum feeds me. I like my big belly and I love carrying my kiddo. I love how consistent she is with kicking if I were to lay on my right side.
A passage from the book:
"I thought only of him, of how it happened that he had stopped loving me, of the necessity that he should give me back that love, that he couldn't leave me like this. I made a list for myself of everything he owed me. I had helped him prepare for his university exams. I had gone with him when he didn't have the courage to appear, urging him through the noisy streets of Fuorigrotta, his heart splitting his chest, I could hear it beating, amid the din of students from city and province, his face going pale as I encouraged him along the corridors of the university. I had stayed awake night after night making him repeat the abstruse material of his studies. I had taken away my own time and added it to his to make him more powerful. I had put aside my own aspirations to go along with his. At every crisis of despair I had set aside my own crises to comfort him. I had disappeared into his minutes, into his hours, so that he could concentrate. I had taken care of the house, of the meals. I had taken care of the children, I had taken care of all the boring details of everyday life, while he stubbornly climbed the ladder up from our unprivileged beginnings. "
I don't feel one iota sadness for this woman and instead with every word I read I want to bang the book and her head somewhere. But at the same time, I recognize some of it. I see how one could end up in her place which isn't exactly my fear. Its more of a -I will never like myself- if I become anything remotely resembling this. But the clarity remains. How did this woman become this woman is really just a simple series of steps. It could happen I suppose without someone even realizing its ongoing.
Which is why reading this prompted me to text A with, " If you ever wanted to leave, don't do it like a thief. Just let me know without stepping around it for months/days."
And he said, "But I don't want to leave."
Which is all great, but just in case he did, I think what would make it absolutely *irrecoverable* from is the lying. I think I could get over being left but not being lied to.
What is with the morbidness! Yes?
All right baby talk. Baby is about 10 weeks away which is mind blowing because where did all that time go! I wrote in baby book a bit and therefore neglected the blog and then somehow baby book also has been chucked for a while. Got to start again. We got some initial shopping done-bare bones. Just a few onesies and her changing pad. We should probably get started on the rest.
Still no name for baby except the long list and we figure seeing her face might help. Otherwise I am good and quite hale and hearty. Mum is here. Dad left in a week. Mum admits when she is being over bearing which is amazing by itself and so I don't pick every bone esp considering that this is a favor she is giving me and one that I must respect. It's cold over here but we still manage to get out and about a bit before the actual snow dump begins. I love home, how dark and warm it is in the evenings. I like hearing A's key in the door and his tired but happy face. I like the food mum feeds me. I like my big belly and I love carrying my kiddo. I love how consistent she is with kicking if I were to lay on my right side.
A passage from the book:
"I thought only of him, of how it happened that he had stopped loving me, of the necessity that he should give me back that love, that he couldn't leave me like this. I made a list for myself of everything he owed me. I had helped him prepare for his university exams. I had gone with him when he didn't have the courage to appear, urging him through the noisy streets of Fuorigrotta, his heart splitting his chest, I could hear it beating, amid the din of students from city and province, his face going pale as I encouraged him along the corridors of the university. I had stayed awake night after night making him repeat the abstruse material of his studies. I had taken away my own time and added it to his to make him more powerful. I had put aside my own aspirations to go along with his. At every crisis of despair I had set aside my own crises to comfort him. I had disappeared into his minutes, into his hours, so that he could concentrate. I had taken care of the house, of the meals. I had taken care of the children, I had taken care of all the boring details of everyday life, while he stubbornly climbed the ladder up from our unprivileged beginnings. "
I don't feel one iota sadness for this woman and instead with every word I read I want to bang the book and her head somewhere. But at the same time, I recognize some of it. I see how one could end up in her place which isn't exactly my fear. Its more of a -I will never like myself- if I become anything remotely resembling this. But the clarity remains. How did this woman become this woman is really just a simple series of steps. It could happen I suppose without someone even realizing its ongoing.
4 comments:
I must admit, I skipped over the book part to the baby part of this post. Only 10 weeks, so exciting!
Don't worry about abandoning the baby book/blog. There are enough precious things you'll remember. Even I didn't mark/photograph enough pregnancy milestones as I had wanted to, or journaled for the baby, but in retrospect it's fine. How many milestones can one mark?
I know, right? I esp have some pangs when I see these pregnant women fancy photography, but i know I couldn't possibly pose for those with a straight face, but still I WANT :D
Just 10 more weeks! :)
Invest in a good camera. It is worth it.
Get a high diaper table where you can stand and change her diaper (Priya said that).
Done& done! Thank Priya for me! :)
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