If you know me, you probably know how much I hate guessing. And no, it doesn’t get better when my daughter’s life depends on it. So, imagine my delight as I spent much of her first month on guesswork like “Are you hungry?” “Are you sleepy?” “Do you want the ice cream in my hand?” Unfortunately, sometimes I could only guess what was going on in that tiny head, especially when she cried and cried to no end. For example, this was my guess on one of those days…
“Why am I suddenly here? Oh, I don’t like where this is going. Last time this happened, I did not have a good time. I protested and resisted all I could but he simply wouldn’t listen. What kind of father is that? If he’s doing it again, I’m going to scream even louder. He needs to get the message. I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT!”
“Yap, it’s happening. I’m going for it. I’ve got days of practice on my diaphragm and I will use it! Oh no, he’s not stopping. Why can’t he see I’m suffering? Why can’t he simply leave me alone? What can I do now? I know, I will fight him. I have these arm and leg thingies and I will flail them around to slow him down. I will not go down easy, I’ll show him!”
“It’s not working. Nothing is working. Is life full of suffering like this? Must I face a world where I simply lack any agency or control? Will all my days be like this?”
“My tears are meaningless. My cries are futile. Such a prospect of life is even more dreadful than my currently desperate experience. I am exhausted, depleted, and utterly defeated.”
“Is this despair that I’m tasting?”
“Is this what it feels like when my last strand of energy is spent into the void?”
“What is existence?…”
Me, “Just changing your diaper, dear.”
~ Du
