Fifth Month: Introspective
All these months have proven to be rich teachers in this, my life, experiences. I am sure that many of you wonder who in their right mind could ever think of jeopardizing their calm and controlled life just for the sake of another. But tell me, is not love about the same thing? I mean, when you fall in love, are you not jeopardizing your calm and controlled life for the sake of another? You might answer that no, you do it for your own sake; but is it not true that in love, the well being of the other takes a far more high rank in your list of priorities, to the point where we surrender ourself to seemingly endless suffering that others might think of as uncalled for?
With this I am not telling that I am in love with my second cousin and best friend in the whole wide world, though I do love her. Neither am I justifiying myself. I am just giving reason to this selfless things we do under the name of love; even though it has absolutely no reason at all. We just do.
Also I have come to experiment on the theory of the hedhog. No matter how much we might love one another, there are certain times when for both of our sakes, it is best to keep at a reasonable distance for we might hurt ourselves with our spikes.
Eriol has been a wonderful source of endless comfort, one that I desesperately craved in a deep, subsconcious level. It is still early to tell if we will grow to be more than friends - though that kiss felt terribly right and I tingle when he looks at me like that - but I would hate myself if I, in my haste to taste something that promises to be delicious, ruin probably the best relationship I have ever shared with any man. So, I will subdue these disconcerting feelings and keep them to myself in hopes of having them pass unadverted.
Syaoran has also been of great support in times when our common dear has gotten herself prisioner of her doubts and fears. Once upon a time I thought that he would become the apple of discord between two loving cousins but I am glad to acknowledge that it was not it. On the contrary, I gained the brother that I never had, being as I am, an only child.
My mother, the courageous and adventurous warrior in the world of stocks and impossibly large corporations, has also given me great shows of motherly love even if in fleeting moments for surely her carefully planned agenda - in which appointments were often made with more than a couple of months in advance - could not get altered because of me. Me who decided to play God in a careless whim. Still she has found the time to be by my side and inquire about my life and relationship with that cute, cultured doctor as she likes to refer to Eriol. A perfect catch, she said; but I am no fisher. She shows me her love in letting me take my own path and not constrict me in most parents' very fault: overprotectiveness. I must confess she was found guilty of that one charge, but has been absolved long ago. She cares enough to set me free while holding out a hand for me to take when down.
I do not know how I would be like as a mother, and despite the situation, this will not be the time when I find out. It has been decided that I must give up the baby as soon as the umbillical cord is cut, phisically separating us both. It sounds inhuman and cruel, specially for me, but I would not want to form a bond to then cut it short. I read that birth is the very first trauma of a baby's conscious state. I would not want to add another stressful and trauma-causing experience. You can object, saying that it would be far more traumatic to deny it of a part of its nature; and it might hold some sort of truth, however, between longing for something you had and longing for something you never had, what is the worst? Some say that one cannot yearn for something that was never had and we decided to stick to this thought. We do not kid ourselves, damage is to be done, but we are trying our best to make it the less possible.
Over the months, my body has changed and so has my mind. I think that the wisdom granted by years of living on Earth has been bestowed upon me in a few months; but I do not kid myself into believing that I know it all. Arrogance does little to no good in the road of learning and I believe in the constant process of self perfectioning. We might never reach perfection, but can surely try.
I enjoy setting a trend in motherhood apparel, having gone through vast states of sweet and charming outfits to more modern-like clothes that seem to revolutionize the market. I mean, why is it that motherhood is always linked to outrageously wide camisoles and loose-fitting pants? The first week of this month, during a once in a blue moon of spare time, I returned to childhood dreams in the form of sketch pad and pencils, both graphite and colored. I sketched a pregnant woman in an impossibly short, pleated, mini-skirt and an off-shoulder sweater that hugged without being horribly form-fitting. I made notes about the fabrics most adecuate for the work, my new masures and faxed it to my seamstress. So delighted was she that I had the outfit sent to me in a couple of days. I heard that some men find pregnant women incredibly arousing and I decided to test that theory. On Friday I had a meeting with the Board of Directors - it is tax season - and I donned the black skirt, pink sweater with lace details and cute, black, flat-heeled shoes with a pink strip keeping them in place - which I spent a whole afternoon hunting for at the "in" Mall. I almost bursted out laughing when I saw the faces of my conservative but definetely manly directors. All eyes, sooner or later, traveled up and down my legs, perfectly rounded mid-section and full breasts. It lasted for the whole meeting! Outside, many women looked at me with a twinkle in their eyes showing the admiration one feels about others who do what you had been thinking of doing but had not done. Even some pregnant women began to speak among themselves!
Call me an exhibicionist, but I did just that: exhibit my newest burst of inspiration. I walked distances I had no use on covering and lingered in places where clearly the business there was done. I collected all kind of comments that day and suddenly an idea popped into mind: I will design model-breaking apparel for pregnant women! So I got home early with an enthusiasm that was long absent and set to work until not a single spare sheet was left. As previously done, I wrote down notes about fabrics and my measures to then fax it to my loyal seamstress, a woman who truly works magic. It took her more than last time given the number of designs but still I could tell that she had neglected her other projects and dedicated herself only to my comissions. Like before, I modeled the outfits at the office, street, convenience store, malls and the consulting room. Priceless was the look in Eriol's handsome face when he saw what I wore that day! I thought it impossible for eyes to get so big! One thing led to another and I found myself registering a fashion design firm with the pregnant population as main market share. This firm is to be my solace when I am not able to work in the office due to maternity leave - that the contract has me to obey - and have to stay at home for most of the day.
With that in mind, I turn on the Mac OS X Panther powered machine and set myself ready to work the whole eight business hours, or maybe more if conflicts that require my inmediate attention arises.
Overall, this has been a tranquil month with a lot of time to think and come to terms with some things that, though seemingly insignificant, tend to become our very own zahir. A fleeting something that obsesses us and drives us to either santity or madness.