Honey, I'm Home

When I got home from work around 5:30 today, Francesca squealed at the sound of my voice.  We were reunited at the top of our staircase, and the delight on her face at seeing me was enough to make me want to leave and come back a million times but never for more than five minutes.  This week was our first experiment in sending me out to work full days -- only two out of the five, and one with a long lunch break at home, which I used to make baby food.  But  I did it. 

I can count four amazing artist/writer types who have approached me in the last few months to ask me how I'm doing it, how I'm balancing momness with my work.  I say, "it's so much easier than I imagined."  That's because I imagined it was was going to be next to impossible.  I was terrified I would never write again.  I even forced myself to finish a 100 page draft during my third trimester, because I wasn't sure I'd have another one in me until my baby was in high school.  And then I added 30 pages to that draft before she was three months old to prove myself wrong.  I wrote while she slept on my lap and while she played beside me, and I wrote in the middle of the night after I woke up to feed her.  On some days.  On a lot of days, we've stayed in bed together, giggling and snuggling and napping. And when doing that, I haven't spared a thought for my work.  Of course, that's what I was worried would happen.

I love that this blog is called How She Does It and not How To Do It, because I really don't know how.  I'll just keep doing it and telling you about it.

Comments

[Jennifer Gandin Le]

As one of these four artist/writer types, thank you for reporting in so honestly about your process with such detail. I can see myself doing something very similar -- trying to write a three-novel series in 9 months, motivated by sheer terror. It's gorgeous to know that the other side of that big question, although entirely different and new in some ways, is not simply a deep hole from which there is no return. From your perspective, it sounds a lot like the rest of life: an exploration, a query, a process.

[Cristina]

Look at us, commenting on each other's posts at the exact same time. That has to be auspicious.

This absolutely is an exploration, a query, and a process -- and one I feel so fortunate to find myself in. When it comes down to it, I will always write and I will always love my baby. They don't have to be mutually exclusive, but there's some skill in tending to both that I'm learning. I find myself wanting to look at pictures of Francesca while she's sleeping (because I miss her! can you believe it?), rather than dashing back to my work.