Little Mysteries

I've been confusing myself the last few days. Some of my feelings seem appropriate; for instance, my stomach hurts sometimes, and my appetite is not as hearty as usual. I fall asleep easily but often wake with my heart pounding. That seems like typical anxiety stuff.

Other feelings don't seem as predictable. For one thing, my concentration is totally, utterly non-existent. It's like I suddenly have the attention span of my soon-to-be 1-year-old child. Yesterday at the gym, I wandered around hopelessly for 10 minutes, asking people if they'd seen my purse, which I was convinced was stolen. When I finally found it, guess where it was? Locked in the locker, right where I'd put it when I first arrived. But since I'd forgotten I had a locker, see, that made it difficult to trace the chain of events. ;) I routinely drive away from the house having forgotten all the things I need for that particular journey. I dial the phone and forget who I'm calling. I walk from one room to another and spin wanly in circles, trying to determine why I've walked there. People keep saying, "Oh, that's just what happens to moms!" But I feel a bit sheepish being this way without an actual baby to pull my focus!

My emotions puzzle me. The other day I was driving to BRU in a perfectly happy mood and suddenly found myself crying when I realized that if I crashed the car, I couldn't be Ruo-Ruo's mom, and who would be her mom? A little abstract, but there it is. I find myself having the most inanely sentimental fantasies, like when I woke up this morning and I imagined that someday soon David might open the door holding the baby, and put her in bed with me, where we could play peek-a-boo with the down comforter and she would laugh and I would make noises on her belly. (You moms out there are probably laughing delightedly at the idea of me snoozing like a princess while my husband gets up and tends to the baby. It's a fantasy, all right? :))

The thing that freaks me out the most is that not only do I think she gets cuter and cuter every time I look at her photo, but I get more and more attached to her, to the point where I feel all these painful tuggings on my heart and start imagining myself hoisting trucks into the air with one hand. Although that seems very sweet and all, it's bizaare to me. For what reason should I feel attached to a photo? I didn't give birth to her. I haven't spent many an amusing hour showing her the baby pandas at the zoo. I haven't snuggled her and smelled her head. I've never even met her. And yet I am bonding with her photo? Is there a name for this phenomenon? Am I exhibiting some classic psychological complex? Am I a statistic in someone's graduate research? I don't like being a cliche. I don't want to be typical or ordinary. On the other hand, I don't want to be freaky, either. I guess the real problem is I don't know which one I am. :) It seems to be starting already. You know what I mean? The eternal question:

Will I be a good mom?