How I overcame my fears and spoke French on national TV
/Speaking French is not a simple matter of flicking a switch and carrying on with life. It is inextricably related to feelings of legitimacy, falsehood, belonging and alienation. It is associated with anger and frustration, inadequacy, stupidity, and triumph. It is related to who and what I am, my place in the world around me and a constant negotiation and re-negotiation of meaning, intention and power.
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This second pregnancy is nothing like my first. I am calm, cocooning. I do my exercises, occasionally even yoga. I have an ample supply of comfortable maternity clothes and a giant (and I mean giant) horseshoe pillow that encloses and immobilises me in a firm hold at night. Sshhh. It whispers. I got you.
I am on top of my medical appointments. I take my vitamins and monitor my blood pressure. I have been registered at the maternity hospital since around the third month of my pregnancy. My husband and I spent about 15 minutes discussing a baby name, decided, smiling, and haven’t wavered since.
I am, in short, having almost the opposite experience as my first pregnancy.