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Masochism
Ages and ages ago I complained about Ayelet Waldman's absurd ruminations about how many of her children she would gladly sacrifice that her husband might live. What on earth is the point of that kind of self-torment, I thought.
And yet, I do often wonder how I would react in horrible situations, not Ayelet's silly fantasies (I actually find that sort of thing really unpleasant), rather, more quotidian ones. Actually, that isn't quite true. I have also entertained some rather unusual "what if" situations, such as: "what if I had been Jim Hawkins's unwritten younger sister in Treasure Island" and "what if I grew up in the days before antibiotics."
For instance, I read a piece in the New Yorker this week when I should have been sleeping by Jerome Groopman called "The Conundrum of Colic." I would link to it if I could but sad to say it isn't online. Basically the piece is about how horrible colic is for parents (surely for babies as well) and the kind of psychological toll it takes AND the devilishly mysterious fact that it isn't really clear what colic is.
Anyway, there's no question that colic is horrible, demoralizing, crazy-making and miserable even if it is a finite condition (yes it only lasts 3-6 months, but that is some substantial amount of time to have no sleep and constant relentless screaming that is apparently louder and more annoying than most infant shrieks).
So I was wondering how, I would handle life in the time of colic? I can't say, of course, but I remember very vividly Felix's early days when I would cry, cry, cry as evening approached because I knew how little sleep I'd get. And with Sebastian I was also beyond exhausted. Still am. But my kids offered nothing like the colic that Groopman describes. I think I would go mad. Perhaps I would turn to drink, though that isn't much like me for anything longer term than a few hours.
posted by Elise at 1:35 PM
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