A Horse at Home

My month of confinement (Chinese: yuezi 月子) will end this coming Saturday, and quite unexpectedly, two thoughts are running through my mind:

1) I will miss being required to stay at home (literally within the four walls of my flat)
2) I need a real vacation

Those of you who know me understand why the first point is surprising. I am a proverbial "horse" (my Chinese zodiac sign). I become antsy if I can't go out everyday. I went and worked at my office until my personnel officer reminded me that "leave means leave" (as in, if I am on campus and were to commence labor, it would be a huge logistical headache, if not potential liability, for the university). My husband and I had many long conversations about how I would cope with the limitations of living at home for a full month (with one two-hour trip to the outside world because I had to renew my employment visa in person -- an interlude during which I realized that after one week, I had not yet regained enough of my physical strength to walk properly). Fortunately, I have observed the basic principle of remaining at home, and have also done well with other guidelines such as avoiding cold foods, wearing socks (in Hong Kong, in August, difficult even with air-conditioning), and eating all the necessary foods to replenish my blood and energy.
And through it all, I am still impressed that I did not even develop the urge to cheat nor did I get upset about not being able to exercise my generally independent spirit.

Granted, I have been lucky to have my housekeeper, father, younger sister, parents-in-law, and other relatives, not to mention my husband, to be my eyes, hands, and feet during this period. My husband registered our daughter's birth on his own, unlike some women who had to take care of that matter without any assistance, and with babies in tow. I could manage errands remotely, asking any person in my household going out to do this or that on my behalf. If I were alone all day long, or raising my daughter as a single parent, I know that I could not live in confinement without running into logistical problems.

I must also thank my daughter because although many an experienced friend had warned me about the sheer chaos that would ensue after the birth, some things are not quite as I feared. My daughter sleeps during the night and fusses during the day (better than the opposite, I imagine). She has already started to help me, wiping her own face after drinking with her mitten (for non-parent readers: mittens prevent infants from decorating their faces with scars), holding her bottle with two tight fists, and giving me some validation for responding correctly to her commands. I know most if not all babies must do these things, but for a new parent like me, each small success has mattered much in the past twenty-six days. For once in my life, I am actually happy to be home.

About the vacation, though, after not being able to travel for eight months, I am chomping at the bit. I have spent a significant amount of time pondering where to take my daughter next month (impossible, but never hurts to fantasize) so we can enjoy a tranquil environment (she can nap and observe the world, I can read and write). If I had my way, we'd be on a flight to an island nation the day after my confinement is over. But since that's not possible, we will have to make the most of the fact that starting today, I still have one month to adjust, to do research (for work and about my daughter's habits), and to enjoy as much "home-time" as I can.

Black Swans

I hesitate to promote certain books precisely because I am employed as a professional intellectual and a civil servant but I must acknowledge the most unusual of handbooks for new parents.

When we received this book from our cousin E., I assumed it was the perfect summer read for me and my husband L. because we love to read about economics and logic. We took it to the hospital, naively believing that we would get some quality time to immerse ourselves in non-work-related reading (as my sister-in-law wisely pointed out, such is the hubris of expectant parents). I did manage to enjoy two chapters during a four-day maternity stay, which is very slow but was ultimately quite meaningful.

The book, to cut to the chase, is Nassim Nicholas Taleb's The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable (New York: Random House, 2007). I had first read about Taleb's black swan principle in Malcolm Gladwell's What the Dog Saw (Boston: Little Brown, 2009) but I was surprised that Taleb had already published a full anthology of related case studies/loosely but fluidly connected musings about risk, fate, and skepticism about all that I hold dear as a historian (narratives, empirical evidence, and the basic premise of causation). Given my professional specialty, it would be reasonable that I would be fiercely opposed to Taleb's criticisms (and to be honest, it was not endearing that a historian who shall not be named raved about the work). However, to the contrary, in my "new parent state of mind," I am devouring his observations and advice about the inherent and constant unpredictability of life.

Instead of getting more worried about the world, my daughter's future, and the whole point of my work, I am feeling more relaxed about the apparent "nothingness" of everything that occurs between the "black swan events." I am more confident that I can weather all the random challenges of parenthood, that my daughter will be fine despite all of the errors I will commit, and that her life will have meaning no matter how much the world changes for worse (better is a no-brainer).

I am still too sleep-deprived to reach profound conclusions these days (as a recently written conference paper amply exemplifies) but for any new parent readers of this blog looking for some inspiration and solace, I humbly recommend a taste of Taleb.

The Beginning and End of Life: The Radish Has Launched

My daughter is now more real to me than ever.

And placing myself squarely in the running for the "strangest and worst mother of the world" award, I have started to think about how her birthday, 31 July 2013, is the first step in her march towards mortality -- mine and hers.

I am more conscious of losing time with her, each minute slipping down the proverbial hourglass until, in the ideal scenario, I am at my last conscious moment and I have to say "goodbye." I am already thinking about how her life will hopefully continue to flourish, even as she will be mature and rational enough to understand that she will be facing the same fate as me, curtailing her participation in the lives of her own loved ones at some point.

I am less sad about her eventual demise -- natural and predictable, all said and done. But it's amazing how immense joy and sadness can erupt at the same time. As I held her in my arms for the first time, impressed and frightened by her unfamiliarity, I was thinking, "Our time together is limited, little one."