Neck to Neck

I was telling Ranjit the other night that while many of the things that have been said about motherhood have seemed like hyperboles and cliches to me, and, as I'd mentioned in my post titled Nappy Rash, a lot of it appear to be hand downs from male fantasies, there is one strange thing that does happen.

The committment to the child's well being, the sense that nothing, absolutely nothing in the world should make her uncomfortable, is an almost matter of fact setting I find in myself.

It's weird - it doesn't feel like a new emotion, or a wonderous new sentiment. There, in fact, is nothing sentimental about it. It's so part of me, it's almost as though the feeling always existed, and has simply been switched on.

And the sheer unacceptability of her discomfort is, as I said, almost cut and dried; matter of fact. Her pain is inconceivable, like walking naked down the road is inconceivable, like peeing in your drawing room in inconceivable, like not eating for a week is inconceivable - ya sure all these things can happen, but one doesn't think of them in the normal course of things.

They are simply not done.

My baby in pain? Yeah, happens probably. But it's just not done.