Writing babies

There are several different types of baby author. Firstly, there's the actual Writer. People like Anne Enright (Making Babies) and Ian Sansom (The Truth About Babies), who wrote their books because that's what they do, they write. Writers will, sooner or later, respond to most things in their lives by writing about them. There's often a slight note of apology in these books, as if it might be a bit self-indulgent and redundant to get all literary about something that happens to millions of people all the time. Which is probably is.

Then there's the celebrity parents (like Jules Oliver) who write their books because what they have to say is marketable. They often make claims for being 'ordinary' parents with the same struggles as the rest of us, but although celeb babies may puke and shit and cry as much as any other, the childcare and housekeeping options available to yummy mummies make them a very different proposition. I have no time for this sort of book at all. If it's self-indulgent for a writer to write about babies, it's even more so for a non-writer to do it.

Finally, there's the Expert (Gina Ford, Penelope Leach, Miriam Stoppard etc). I am currently in the grip of an overwhelming terror when it comes to books by Experts and I can't bring myself to read any of them. I think this terror stems from the fact that pregnant women are vulnerable to believing everything we read, and if I read two conflicting sets of advice I will be completely paralysed, unable to make a decision about how to proceed. So when this baby is born I will probably still be in a state of blissful, if panicky, ignorance.

Weeks: 17+1

Making a drama out of an identity crisis

When I think about my friends I often think about the characteristics they have which I would like for myself. I define myself by them and by what I lack in comparison. So I envy my sister's artistic talent, Georgie's integrity and practicality, Sophie's compassion and motivation, Simon's career success, George's mental ability, Cat's emotional openness, Clarissa's creative energy, Wags' intellectual curiosity, Anna's fearlessness...

I was hit by the realisation this morning that I would probably be happier if I just appreciated and admired my friends instead of comparing myself unfavourably with them. And if I spent more time taking pleasure in the fact that all these great people have chosen to be friends with ME.

I might still be a way off from finding and being comfortable with my own identity, but it's a start. (And the above post may not seem to have anything to do with writing, or parenting, or anything, but I don't think I can regain my voice as a writer until I have regained some confidence as a person.)

Weeks: 16+1

Some thoughts on words

The language of pregnancy is slightly odd when you think about it. I don't mean the technical terms and the endless mystical abbreviations, but the everyday words. Take 'conceive' for example. 'Conceiving' a child makes it sound like you just thought something up. That which you create when you conceive something - a concept - is practically the opposite of a child, surely. A concept has no physical manifestation; a child is the most amazing physical thing that human beings can create. Why is creating LIFE described with a word that can be equally well applied to dreaming up a project, a scheme, an artwork, a joke, an argument, a sonnet, a dress design? Not that these things aren't valuable, but it's a category error somehow. I did write a poem about this a while ago in fact, but at the time a child WAS only an idea to me. Little did I know...

Or 'expecting'. Why do we 'expect' a baby like we expect a letter, or a phone call? I suppose the word contains the sense of something that SHOULD happen at some future date, but might not. Which is an accurate, although rather pessimistic, way of describing pregnancy I suppose. Maybe 'I'm having a baby' sounds too definite for some people, too much like tempting fate. Or too much like the present tense.

Weeks: 15