2002-01-16
Yesterday was my first solo venture out. Past the mailbox, I mean. I bundled Clay into his car seat and drove to the groovy healthfood/gourmet store. I got a muffin and a cup of tea and sat in the cafe section to nurse him. It was 11 a.m., I'd timed it to avoid the lunch rush, and had a fair degree of privacy, sitting against a wall. I felt a bit self-conscious and spastic, trying to coordinate everything and not reveal all, but was moderately successful.
Before doing my shopping, I took him to the restroom for a diaper change. It's funny, having seen those changing tables for years and finally needing to use one. This particular restroom was small, and pulling the changing table down from the wall blocked access to one of the two stalls. No one else was in there at the time, but as soon as I'd gotten him down on the table, the door opened.
It was my old therapist! Whom I adore. It's been seven years since I've seen her regularly, though I did see her for a booster series of five sessions about four years ago. We have enough of the same haunts that I run into her probably once a year (usually in book stores, come to think of it). I wish that we could be friends, could hang out and go for coffee and stuff, but I know that if that were to happen, she could no longer be my therapist. And I like knowing that she's there, that I can always go back when and if I want to.
She's ten years my senior, really smart and funny and a good dresser. (By which I mean she dresses like I do.) Back when I was shopping for a shrink, I asked a friend of a friend to refer me to someone. She asked what I was looking for and I said, "Well, the person has to be really smart." And she immediately said, "Okay, I know the person for you."
It was just great to see her, especially under the circumstances, feeling so awkward in this store where I've always felt very comfortable. You know, babies require so much STUFF and it takes a while to figure out how to negotiate all of it out in the world. I'm sure it will get better, will become second nature as have the things I do at home, but for now I feel pretty self-conscious. And it's not as though I'm imagining the fact that people are paying attention--something about a baby really attracts interest.
It's funny, when I was pregnant I can only recall one or two instances where strangers commented on my condition, and those were only in the most casual and non-confrontational ways. I've heard people tell of strangers regaling them with tales of rough labors, touching their bellies, and doing all kind of other intrusive things. I was almost disappointed that I got none of this, though not entirely surprised as I've come to realize I put off a certain "Don't fuck with me" vibe.
So it's interesting to me that now I am getting a fair amount of comments from strangers. Just your basic How old is your baby? kind of thing. Plus comments about the sling I use to carry him around. It's kind of nice.
So anyway, seeing my old shrink was just great. She held the baby while I washed my hands and for a while thereafter. (Before I'd left the house B, thinking of baby thiefs, had said, "If anyone offers to help with the baby, don't let them!") She laughed when I told her of B's recent realization of who the baby looks most like--Don Rickles--and my insistence that he actually resembles Wallace Shawn much more.
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| Rickles | Shawn |
House update: Looks as though we're on to close on Friday. Cross your fingers for me that the deal doesn't fall through.
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