On being a writer

I've been trying to write a piece about the weird state of being a writer, but readers will forgive me I think being a bit less than coherent 5 weeks into the new job of being a mother.  Fortunately, a facebook friend posted a gorgeous piece by someone else which beautifully explains much of what I wanted to say.  So, rather than attempting to complete an entire article in the moments between feeding / poop-cleaning / preparing equipment for feeding & poop-cleaning duties, for now I will simply share this lovely item with you all for your enjoyment and education.

The point is, I am in the very strange state-of-being that many a writer is in - of being an introvert (as explained most perfectly in said shared item below), and yet also being incapable of holding myself back from sharing my thoughts and even quite personal feelings publicly.  I can't say what it is that causes us to do this - mere narcissism, the need for validation, or a commendable calling to share our wisdom?  Perhaps fellow writers have a clue.  All I know is that I have to write - putting thoughts into words in non-verbal format is a simple compulsion - but why the need to share the results?  Whatever the cause, it does leave one in a slightly difficult situation.  I've shared myself, and then people (understandably enough) assume I'm open to interaction with them.

I respectfully share the following for your consideration. :)

http://themetapicture.com/how-to-interact-with-the-introverted/

Looking forward to meeting you, fellow mammal

Some time ago in my pregnancy, husband and I had a query - when baby is born, do they clean them up first, or do they hand them to you immediately, all covered in birth-goo?  And it turns out that yep, you get handed a goo-baby.  To non-parents this will no doubt seem utterly disgusting, but to me it has become a symbol of how gloriously real this whole baby business is.  I don't want an ethereally mystical, fantasy baby, nor an improbably cooing, smiling movie-baby - I want a real baby.  I want a goo-baby.

And today this fact has helped me face the reality that birth may not be everything I hoped for.  It may well yet go according to plan, but I have to accept that it might not.  I thought I was ready to take on medical intervention as necessary, but it turns out I wasn't quite.  While in theory, I have always believed that birth is merely the means of getting the baby from the inside of me to the outside, that the only measure of a 'good birth' is an end result of live and healthy mother and baby; in practice I had not accepted that my ideal birth might not happen.  I have been blithely expecting the birth of my desire: a 'natural' birth, in which my body takes over as if it has always known how and I allow it to just do what's needed.

I am still hopeful that this will happen, but it has transpired that while baby is ready to go, my body is not.  After assuming baby would be as much of a slow-poke as husband, it turns out it's my body that's being stubborn.  We'll work on 'ripening my cervix' and hope for the best, but the news forced me to face the reality of what accepting a change of plans would mean.  It forced me to deal with the emotions of not getting what I hope for, and I was temporarily quite upset.

A little art therapy

But then I realised that however this baby is born it will still be a goo-baby.  Whatever happens, baby will be introduced to this world as a fleshy, bloody thing taken from a womb, just as we all have (cue 'circle of life' medley).  I realise that one of the reasons I already love this baby, is simply that they are a fellow mammal.  When baby moves around and my belly terraforms in front of my eyes, it feels like there is a little alien inside of me.  But it isn't an alien, it is a member of my own species; not really a person yet, but 100% human.  And that is the most wonderful thing of all.

Full term

I am waiting... and I don't know for how long.  The first thing I notice in my new twilight world of not yet a mother, but no longer a paid employee, is that time has a different meaning.  My first real sense that my life was changing came when I turned off my alarm - not just for a break, but long-term.  My new life will not be run by the clock, but by the natural rhythms and demands of my baby.  And I realise that this is the first time since my own early childhood that I have been in this situation.  Since we first enter kindergarten (or whatever equivalent we first experience as formal socialisation and schooling) most of us live a life structured by measurements of time - by the hours of the day, the days of the week, and the weeks of the year.  Babies and their full-time carers are one of the few exceptions to this.

And my first experience of unstructured time is in not knowing how long I am to be in this twilight world for.  I could have several weeks... or only days.  So how am I to organise my time?  Do I rush to get the 'to do' list complete, and hope that I can then relax full-time for a while, risking ending up with no relaxation; or do I potter and linger, enjoy the moments as they come and work on what I want to, risking being disorganised and uprepared for baby?  Well, nature provided the answer.  After three days of rushing and feeling continued stress that I would never get it all done in time, my body stopped me.  Last Thursday, I was overcome by what Kaz Cooke describes as an 'ineluctable torpor'.  In a sudden on-set of the 'baby brain' which I have heard so much about, I was struck with an overwhelming feeling of anti-motivation, along with a complete and utter inability to make a decision - of any kind - let alone undertake any productive action.  For at least an hour, I believe rather longer (I was somewhat aware of the time as husband's job is still run by the clock and I wanted to talk to him) I wandered aimlessly around my house, with barely a thought in my head.  I don't believe I have ever felt so stupid in my life!  I tried to make a decision about what to do next and was simply unable to do so.  And that was it - from then on I have given in to the fact that this baby will choose when they are going to be born, and in the meantime my number one job is to relax... let my body prepare for birth, and know that the 'to do' list will never really be complete anyway.  An enforced lesson, I suppose, in mindfulness.

And a lesson, I realise this morning, in the true nature of 'intuition'.  As the "pragmatic part-hippy", to quote my own definition of myself, I am an atheist who practices magic.  Part of my magical practice includes an irrational belief in my own intuitive powers - a sense that I am in tune with forces and knowledge outside of my own experience.  It has been something I have felt as supernatural, even though I am entirely convinced that no supernatural world exists*.  Well from today I am including it within my atheist world-view - intuition is real, and it needs no woo to explain it.  The phenomenon which I have called intuition, is simply emotionally-aware applied knowledge.  And I learnt this the moment I tried to call on my intuition on a subject for which I had inadequate knowledge.

I was finding it strange that I had no inkling of how long it would be before birth, especially as throughout the rest of pregnancy I have felt very wise and 'intuitive'.  Where was my usual innate 'knowledge' of what would happen next?  Why had my ability to predict my own future deserted me now, at such an important time?  Well the answer was very simple.  There was no point listening to my body and the baby's, paying attention to my emotions, reading all the signs - when I had no way of interpreting them.  I have never given birth before.  And somehow, in this one area, I had failed to gain much knowledge from the experiences of others.  So I got informed.  I read, I gained facts - from woman who have given birth, and from medical professionals in the field.  And, as if by magic, my sense of intuition began to be restored.  I still don't know when baby will be born, but I am getting much more of an understanding of how impending birth is (for now the answer is 'not just yet').

I want to note that this understanding, as with all things atheistic, in no way detracts from either the profundity or the beauty of intuition.  It is still a wonderful and worthwhile thing to work on.  A logical person my gain all the facts that they desire, but if they do not apply them in an intuitive way, then they will be losing the best use of those facts.  Intuition is a subtle art which requires emotional intelligence.  It is much like creativity - it requires being observant, taking in and being aware of many subtle things at once, then finding the right emotional state to allow the mind to make the important connections between them.  For creative and intuitive types, these processes don't feel like doing anything at all, because they come so naturally.  But I'm sure that anyone could learn it.

In any case, I am re-learning intuition.  And mindfulness.  And patience.  And I'm not even a mother yet.  Goodness knows what lessons that little adventure is going to have in store for me!  One on which I am most curious is whether I will be inspired to write, or if I will lose the ability altogether.  I suppose my few readers will soon find out. :)


*this is partly true simply by definition - if something exists, it is, therefore, natural.