When I used to teach public speaking classes, I had a theory about why people have the specific physiological reactions they do when they feel public speaking fears. Some of the main things that happen are that they fail to make eye contact, they stumble over their words, and they lose control of their body in various uncomfortable ways. When I first started teaching university classes, for example, I'd have to pee like ten times before the class started.

My theory was this: these bodily responses bring us back to a time when we did not have control of ourselves, and that evokes the deepest fear possible. My theory is based a lot on Lacanian psychoanalysis, which postulates that our entry into language is literally and figuratively the defining moment of our sense of self. Prior to that, we are undifferentiated from the world. We cannot tell where we begin and the world ends. Right now, our baby, which is at 19 weeks, is physically a part of its mother. There's no difference. They're one organism.

A critical moment as we develop, at least according to French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan, is when we're first confronted with an image of ourselves in the mirror. By that point we have begun to perceive rough differences between objects in the world, but when we see ourselves in the mirror, we encounter the perfect object. While we're feeling like a scattering of limbs with no motor skills and a smelly diaper, we see a perfect, complete version of us staring back, whole of body and in complete control. It is daunting, but it give us something to strive for. Thus begins our search for self.

When you have public speaking fears then, or really any fears, the physical reactions threaten nothing less than the loss of self -- the return to that moment where we have no self-control. The body amplifies this with adrenaline, and suddenly our arms and legs start completely rebelling against us again. You feel like you're going to pee your pants. Everything becomes this pile of wild parts that you're once again struggling to assemble. Having to stand in front of people and make a speech or give a talk elicits fears of not knowing what to say, a pre-verbal state. While the image of a baby is often romanticized in our society, it is in fact a state that we struggle to leave behind us. It's important to leave it behind us. This is why we have such a strong fear reaction when we get reminded of it.

Perhaps an audience specifically reminds you of being confronted with that more complete mirror image of yourself. This may well be why they say to practice public speaking in the mirror. To overcome the fear, the real thing to explore and understand on a deep level, I suppose, is that you cannot be completely returned to your pre-verbal state. I'm guessing that this is why having lots of exposure and practice with public speaking is so good for developing your confidence. You start to realize that you will not be thrown into the pre-verbal, and this consoles you.

I also wanted to talk about waterboarding as a return to birthing, but I guess we'll have to leave that for another day. Hope you enjoyed this rather random and twisty reflection!

First of all, sorry I didn't post yesterday. I've been in job application grind mode, and it was leaving me with a spot of writer's block. That, and I plain old ran out of time. Why can't the day have a couple more hours? Or perhaps I need an army of blogging minions at my disposal... Can someone please get on that? Kthx.

So I wanted to talk a bit about how much movement we're getting all of the sudden. My wife's positive that she's feeling the baby jigging around now, though it's interesting to me how ambiguous it was before. She says there's too much other stuff going on in there and so she can't tell what's what, but that baby's starting to get pretty big. It's up to ten inches now from head to toe and half a pound. You think you'd feel something like that moving around inside you. Come to think of it, it's a little scary that you wouldn''t (echos of Alien, anyone?)

It's one of my favourite pastimes these days to sit there with my hand on wifey's stomach and see if I can feel anything. It also helps me feel more bonded to the baby. I do worry sometimes that I'm not paying enough attention the person who's carrying the baby, but usually I remember to give her a smooch and tell her how awesome I think the whole thing is. I think I'm liking this whole family thing so far. We'lll see when the screaming and the pooping starts.

Also, speaking of movements, we're starting to get prepared for baby's first cross-country move (unfortunately, our third in just about as many years). Last night it hit me just how cool it is that our baby will be born in Vancouver. It has long been my favourite city on earth, and now my kid is going to be able to say that he or she was born there. As for my ongoing use of "he or she", we'll find out the sex during our five-month ultrasound next week. I'm stoked to be able to finally start imagining more clearly who this little one will be!

Have an earth-shatteringly magnificent weekend everyone, and thanks for reading!

I've noticed on my Baby Daddy Twitter account a ton of people selling really top-shelf baby and child products. There are all kinds of organic clothes, chic furniture items, educational systems, and mind-power games. There's this whole subset of high-end, urban family, with-child-but-staying-hip accessories out there. The cynical, post-Marxist side of me wants to scoff at all this and lament the way that product-categories are used to replace personality. The aspirational, underemployed, post-PhD side of me wants to acquire nothing but the best for my own little one. In a certain light, it all sounds so unbelievably classy, this trendy child shopping -- more like a pleasant afternoon of casual boutiquing than the sad and probable alternative of scavenging the Wal Mart wastelands for Hott Bargainz.

I don't know what to make of any of it. I definitely like the principle of organic and otherwise ethical products, and I try to buy them whenever I can. I do find it annoying that they're still treated like this incredibly small niche market. Shouldn't absolutely everything be manufactured and sold in a socially rand environmentally responsible way? Shouldn't that just be the norm? Would it really cost that much more for those organic duds if they were mass produced? Or are mass-production and organic products just an irreconcilable contradiction? There are a lot of people on the planet these days, from what I've heard. Does the ethical have to be reserved exclusively for the incredibly small subset that can afford it? It's like, "You, too, can be a good person, but only if you can fork over an arm and leg."

I guess my alternative, barring a spectacular book deal or miraculous inheritance, is to buy less and focus my energy on providing the baby with a caring, stimulating environment. Let's face it, as far as necessities, a baby needs very little. I'm guessing a day at the park is probably just as good for the baby's mind, if not better, as an insane, vertiginous doodad that plays Liszt and subliminally teaches multiplication tables and Mandarin through light patterns. Honestly, I do think all this stuff is pretty cool, but there have to be multiple ways to do a good job (or at least I have to tell myself that).

I think one of the real upsides of all these products is that they're designed for people who want to give their kids the best possible lives they can. The fact that there's any market for them suggests that a lot of people really do care about making their kids into bright little citizens of the planet earth. Maybe the kids themselves will be the ones that can figure out better ways to make the world a greener, more ethical place without just cluttering it up. Maybe they'll have no choice. Until then, I guess we just keep trying.

That's Owly, a ridiculously cute gift recently given to us by our good friends in anticipation of our coming little one. I can't believe the outpouring of generosity there's been from people around us. Such symbols are both comforting and important. They suggest both care and support, so thank you to our awesome friends and family!

One other important piece of news before I get into it today. My wife's cousin and her hubby just welcomed little Henry Winston into the world over the weekend. He weighed in at 6lbs 1oz, and arrived about three weeks early. The eager babies seem to be a pattern on my wife's side, so we'll see how it goes when our time comes. We're desperately hoping to get most of January before the delivery (if you'll recall, we're due late January). We'll see.

Okay, so I've been delving further into Bringing up Bebe, which has been both enjoyable and informative. I don't want to say that the French have it all figured out, but the French pretty much have it all figured out. On average, for example, they get their kids "doing their nights" in a couple of months. That means sleeping around eight hours solid with few if any interruptions. If it takes a baby more than four or so months to start doing its nights, it's considered a problem, and they'll often seek out a doctor's advice at that point. All I can say is "Oui, please." Paint me tricolor and call me Pierre.

One of the things that strikes me most about the book's material so far is how the French base their parenting methods so much more on scientific evidence and history than fads and trends. Of course the whole idea of a French Baby book screams North American fad, but nonetheless the information is great. One of the most tried and true methods the French use is the "pause and observe" method, where before responding to your infant's needs, you give them a few moments to try and work it out themselves. This doesn't mean neglect. It just means giving them a chance to teach themselves self-soothing. Often when a baby wakes up in the middle of the night it's part of a natural two-hour sleep cycle, and if you interrupt too quickly, the baby doesn't properly learn how to string sleep cycles together.

One of the things that I appreciate the most is the idea that a small amount of discomfort can be healthy and beneficial. If a kid can get used to the idea of non-gratification of every whim early, then it can prevent all kinds of problems down the road. It might seem a little strict, but it provides a solid framework for their expectations. This seems the polar opposite to the helicopter parenting that I commented on a few weeks ago. I'll keep you posted on the book as I progress with it.

For now, I'll just say à bientôt!