A colleague announced that she was pregnant today. This baby had been a state secret between three of us initially – yes, I do get trusted with information from time-to-time. Today, the good news was shared with us all. I really hope the mother and baby prosper, and let’s not be forgetting Dad’s there in the formula as well.
One of the things I found somewhat disquieting was the fact that the mother-to-be had a sheet of images – it looked like x-ray film, but I don’t imagine the fetus would be exposed to radiation at that tender age. What I felt slightly – well, I’m not sure how I felt, but there’s something bizarre – voyeristic about looking at images of an unborn individual. It’s simultaneously fascinating and yet it felt slightly invasive, like wandering into the wrong motel room and finding a guest asleep.
Would good manners dictate you wake the person up to apologise and then leave, or just leave? Would it be impertinent to stand and stare? If you think, yes, it is impertinent, well that’s how I felt, trying to make sense of these earliest and most intimate of personal photos. Is nothing sacred? Must we document every aspect of our lives? How about those who’re still getting to grips with getting there in the first instance?
If you think no, then I guess you wouldn’t have minded seeing the video of the baby. Yes, there was a video as well, although I didn’t see it. A few years back I videoed a baby being born, but this feels slightly different – the mother confirming the notochord was forming now as a spine and the fish tail part has moved on. Good grief, the kid’s a glorified guppy and someone’s making a movie of it? I’m sorry, I just haven’t quite got my head around the technology, the ethics, and the ‘we can therefore we should’ aspects of it being too much information. Overwhelmed by the communication.
While we’re both reflecting on it, perhaps you might enjoy looking at the inner me. Yep, that’s my damn fine looking spine. Shapely pelvis. I’m guessing the dark blobby bit might be my liver. It looks empty. It might’ve been my wallet. See the efforts I go to to bare my inner self for your reading pleasure? Don’t tell me I don’t make sacrifices for my art!