'I lost it,' she said again. 'Sorry. I lost it.'
For this was about loss, she saw that clearly as she spoke the word. She'd never imagined that having a child would involve such loss. It had seemed to be about becoming. Becoming pregnant. Becoming a mother. Becoming a family.
I am not, gratefully, at this stage of new motherhood anymore, but Bethan Roberts captures it wonderfully in Mother Island. It's really hard to write about the early days of motherhood. Who wants to read about sleep deprivation and crying for pages on end? How do you convey the depth and disorientation and total identity-rearrangement of it all without boring readers and yourself? I'm coming up on a new-motherhood section in my work in progress and I think Bethan Roberts has just given me a clue: you do it succinctly.
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