No hood like this mamahood

The first year of motherhood. May I be so presumptuous as to write about it from within, before I have fully emerged, one-year-old and smashed (sugar and gluten free) birthday cake in each hand? I. The pulsating loneliness of it. I don't quite know how to explain it. You won't be alone, ever. If you're … Continue reading No hood like this mamahood

Birth Pains

“For the first time in my life, I understand the concept of home: it is not a refuge, not necessarily a snuggly place of warmth and cheery domesticity, not some essential rightness like the satisfying click that releases a lock, but rather a sense of peace with contradiction. It is a giving in, an acceptance, … Continue reading Birth Pains

On What I did not Expect

I don’t know quite what I expected.   For the longest time (and I know how lucky we are that for us, that only meant months, not years), we’d been planning for this pregnancy, working as hard as we could emotionally to conceive our miracle, fighting the despair that threatened to overwhelm anything positive about … Continue reading On What I did not Expect

Writing against the silence

  I have a very happy, complicated relationship with writing.  It is at once very personal, in the ways that only the places you can call home are, and very public, in the way that professional ambition can be.  Writing has always been a place for me to take the pieces of my life, sorrowful … Continue reading Writing against the silence

On mourning Maya Angelou, Ursula Le Guin and Failure

Last week was incredibly hard.  Dr Maya Angelou died.  I suppose I knew it was coming.  And to be honest, it wasn’t a death I thought of with great dread, as I did whenever I contemplated President Nelson Mandela dying.  Maya Angelou’s work and her story meant a great deal to me, but I didn’t expect … Continue reading On mourning Maya Angelou, Ursula Le Guin and Failure

White Women’s Stories: A Late Review of The Help

I came to The Help*, the book, late. Long after the movie was released, and discussed ad nauseum, and had its (somewhat successful) shot at Oscar glory, I have finally found it in myself to read the book. I bought the book a solid year ago, from an airport bookstore, on one of the many … Continue reading White Women’s Stories: A Late Review of The Help

The Grief Book Club

  By some strange coincidence, in the 6 months preceding my aunt's death I had worked my way through three seminal 'grief narratives'. I have half-joked to friends that I was sort of 'studying up', without knowing it, in preparation for what was to come. There really is no preparing for it, though. The best … Continue reading The Grief Book Club