The act of discovery, both for baby and for me, never fails to surprise. Baby is discovering himself, and his world. I am discovering things I never knew about myself, new experiences and capabilities and emotions.
Finding my own limits is especially interesting to me. I didn't know I had a limit to what I could handle watching on TV or in movies until this whole new parent-world was opened up to me. I first tasted this limit last year, in August, when I turned down an offer to see "The Time Traveler's Wife" in the theater, and when I agreed with Andy that I shouldn't watch "Revolutionary Road." After the miscarriage, there were limits to what I could handle watching.
Then last night, channel surfing, the best thing on TV was "House." Part way into the episode, I became filled with anxiety. I tried to force myself to watch -- after all, I loved this show and had never had trouble with any of its gore or drama -- but it was too much. A baby had died, and the postmortem autopsy and emotional exchange between House and the mother incited too much panic.
The list of new discoveries since Fletcher's arrival is endless, and each discovery has been a kind of surprise. How it's possible to feel such powerful love and attachment. How I don't have any trouble with the concept of changing diapers, don't even notice a smell. How fragile life is. How I depend on him. How sometimes, when I look into his eyes, I can see his independent soul thinking away. This person we were able to create. This miracle.
I find it comforting that there are still things I don't know about myself. Limits I have time yet to test, emotions I've yet to feel, experiences I've yet to have. I can be a part of Fletcher's journey while continuing my own.
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