It’s challenging. One sleeps in a pulse-like rhythm: for hour-at-a-time breaks when the baby sleeps, around the clock. So the baby’s very presence breaks down one's sense of time and temporality, reassembling them into a more cyclic sense. One's world shrinks to a point that radiates out, again - pulses out, through sensory wonder to one's direct environment and one's home. There are also emotional cocktails, rife with senses of failure, accomplishment, amazement, boredom, relief, and terror. Happiness and sadness, hope and dread. There are challenges, a looming sense of bodily or caregiving failure or accomplishment—a binary dance between two polarities. Our focus is united into this pulsating being, shimmering with its pulses.
 
- November 23.

The temporality of a baby - expecting a baby - is odd. Like you're expecting a house guest, whom you will have to take full care of, for at least 18 yrs., but you don't know when they'll arrive. Everything points to the baby: all the things you buy or arrange, all the tasks you do. — Like mourning, like Heidegger's being-towards-death, it is a full attunement, a full way of leaning, a full way of reverberating through a world.

The baby's mortality (this baby's mortality) seems to overtake one's own. And this à-venir comes to co-constitute your present so much. A hope — a grasping out at nothing solid nor firm. And a relating to — a bundle of relations — to what we know not —— but is this ever different? -

The modality is different - the particulars are different - a structure without structure?

- November 10, in hospital, VGH. She was born November 11.