Motherhood is flipping amazing, but it’s tricky and unpredictable too
Writing books is a pretty isolated experience. Hours, weeks, months are spent in my office staring at my computer screen, with me either talking to myself or spending far too long pondering the best way to describe an action, or emotion. Occasionally I’ll have music on that inspires the particular chapter I’m working on, or sometimes silence is preferred. Every now and then I’ll stare at the screen not knowing how to put into words what’s on the tip of my tongue, other times I bash away without thinking. It can be frustrating, or it can feel completely natural and effortless. No two days are the same.
Writing non-fiction has been interesting for me. I’ve not had to worry about characters, a backstory, settings or plot twists. I’ve literally just had to sit and digest my experiences and share a part of me in more depth than I have before. It’s been quite the experience. I think I’ve played it down in my mind, but this week I got to see mountains of physical copies of HAPPY MUM, HAPPY BABY (I had a day where I needed to sign 2,500 copies) and it’s really dawning on me more and more that these thoughts I’ve uncovered, these struggles I’ve confessed to, these self-observations are all going to be out there for people to read. It makes me feel a little sick in a way – I mean, a good sick, if there is such a thing.
My dad has started reading it. I pre-warned him that there was a lot of foof and boob chat in there, but he just shrugged his shoulders and blushed a bit. He’s a good chunk of the way in now (he’s read about my bruised and stitched together nether regions) and he turned to me the other day and told me how important the book is – and that it’ll help others feel not so alone in those early stages of having a baby, when you’re feeling so many emotions and in pain, and are overwhelmed by it all. I was pretty chuffed as that’s what I intended the book to be. Yes, it’s me blabbering on and oversharing, but I’ve done that to stop us all keeping that self-doubt in while we pretend to be Wonderwoman. I want it to encourage conversation, or for new mums to at least see that they aren’t the only ones feeling utterly confused and lost.
My dad reaffirmed why I wrote the book, and now I’m excited for others to read it. Motherhood is flipping amazing, but it’s tricky and unpredictable too.
Big love to you!