Four months ago, I painted a series of nine works in lipstick and eyeliner, inspired by the nine months of gestation. I waited until the scans had given me the all-clear, and then I went ahead. One work was inspired by chaos theory, then apples (good old original sin), another by butterflies; still another featured the black dog.
One was inspired by the shape of the uterus and Fallopian tubes, which together are reminiscent of the head of a bull. There was another meaning, of course, because the baby’s expected date of delivery is at the end of April, which would make her a Taurus like both her sisters.
The title I gave this work – which was timed for month 6 out of the sequence of 9 – turned out to be strangely prescient. Horns of a dilemma. I hope I am not faced with that now. I hope she gets to be a Taurus after all, though that is looking increasingly unlikely.
Life imitates art? I hope that those nine months I painted are the nine months I will get to keep her mine, in a world that I can make safe for her even when the doctors cast doubt.