It’s been a stressful month as I move back to work. Typically, my nerdy response to stress is to become nerdier, so with that in mind I just read “Decoding the Universe: How the New Science of Information is Explaining Everything in the Cosmos, From Our Brains to Black Holes” by Charles Seife. It was wonderful. I am probably a failed astronomer or physicist – the math is too difficult but the subject matter fascinates me.
In particular I was struck by the thing called a qubit which is a bit of quantum information. Classical information can usually be reduced to a series of 1s and 0s – for example, yes or no, or letters can be encoded as a series of 0s and 1s, as in binary. However, in the world of the very small particle, the domain of quantum mechanics, some things can be yes and no at the same time. For example, imagine a light shining through a prism such that the light is split into two beams which shine against the wall, so there are now two spots of light. Some photons go one way, and some go the other. Imagine now that you reduce the light so that only one photon approaches the prism. Classical physics would predict that the photon goes one way or the other, but in fact, it goes both. The photon will simultaneously take both paths, and here’s the weird part, until you measure it. And that’s the basis of the qubit – a piece of information that is really both opposites at the same time. It will remain in that weird suspension until you look at it.
At the beginning of the month I took Hannah to her first check up. My new doctor is an eager young family physician, recently out of medical school, who shares my strong opinions on childhood vaccines and antibiotics. I was looking forward to this visit because I love to show off my darling little girl. She’s adorable, social, chatty and wonderful in every way. And in fact her sweetness and easy going nature have meant that I have had the luxury of never worrying about her health.
But to my surprise, Hannah had lost almost 1.3 pounds in the month since her vaccinations. Weight loss in a little one is not a good thing, but she is a good eater, very active and happy. In fact I can almost guarantee that this weight loss was the result of a) learning to crawl finally, b) starting day home, where she plays all day c) a mean stomach virus and d) the arrival of 3 teeth in one month.
But the doctor’s visit placed the tiny seed of doubt in a mother’s fertile imagination. Over the next two days Hannah seemed lethargic and had a poor appetite, symptoms that I would normally brush off as a result of a growth spurt, busy couple of days, or teeth. But parenthood means a lifetime of worry, and as I read my escapist non-fiction, I wondered, was Hannah a qubit? Had she been in a nether world of health and non-health that lasted until she was examined by a doctor?
In the subsequent weeks we developed tricks for getting her to eat more, and she remains happy, active, and still eats like a horse. My worry is abating. The hard part of parenthood is the uneasy balance between the incredible joy she brings us everyday and the potential for disaster. I am reminded of friends and family who have suffered through the heartbreak of dealing with serious diseases in their children, and I feel for them all the more. Parenthood means being a qubit – both delighted and terrified at the same time.
