The Unspoken Realities of Motherhood
We often acknowledge that babies need to be conceived, or rather that they will be. Perhaps not in the quantities some governments desire, but let’s set aside demographic concerns and the reasons behind declining birth rates for now. What we rarely confront, however, is the profound impact that the journey of motherhood can have on women, whether they are in the process of conceiving, pregnant, or raising children.
This week, I had the privilege of interviewing the acclaimed Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie just before the release of her new novel, Dream Count. This marks her first fiction book to be published in more than a decade. Right at the outset of our conversation, Adichie made a startling admission: she had struggled with writer’s block following her pregnancy, describing the experience as “terrifying.” She shared, “It’s a really frightening place to be, because writing is the thing that gives me meaning. I’m not sure that it was just entirely physiological, but something changed, and I just could not get back into that magical place where I can write fiction.”
Adichie welcomed her first child, a daughter, in 2016, and just last year, she gave birth to twin boys, who are now 11 months old. During her pregnancies, she experienced a “very foggy feeling” and struggled to think clearly, a sentiment that was evident in her eyes as she spoke. “I’m a person for whom thinking clearly is so important, and so to be in that kind of place emotionally is very frightening,” she confessed. It felt as if a collective sigh of relief echoed around me—she was articulating the feelings of many women who have faced similar challenges.
I recalled her mentioning in a previous conversation on Woman’s Hour how she felt her brain was “wrapped in gauze” during her pregnancies. This admission feels almost revolutionary; discussing the tumultuous hormonal changes women endure while trying to conceive, being pregnant, and giving birth has long been stigmatized. In sharing my own experience with six rounds of IVF to conceive our second child, I too found it daunting yet necessary to be open about the struggle. The process was fraught with emotional turmoil and uncertainty.
As I navigated the powerful hormonal medications, I created workarounds. Some drugs made me feel nauseous, prompting me to adjust my diet. Others left me physically and emotionally drained, compelling me to temper my responses to others—constantly checking in with myself to ensure my reactions reflected my true feelings. I often donned a facade of smiles, suppressing my genuine emotions, unsure if they were even my own. In an effort to find solace, I leaned into my work, seeking a familiar distraction amidst the chaos, even as my body became a canvas for countless needle marks and bruises.
Ultimately, work became my lifeline, but I found little left for anything else. My creative pursuits, such as drawing with our son, fell by the wayside, and my once-beloved music became unbearable. I felt estranged from myself. Yet, despite these challenges, I made the decision to write candidly about my experiences, believing that sharing my struggles would resonate with other women who might feel isolated in their journeys, especially those who face the fear of appearing less competent in their professional lives.
- Women are leading meetings, managing teams, and performing on the sports field, all while grappling with the complexities of their reproductive health.
- For far too long, women’s experiences have been oversimplified, categorized as either good or bad, functional or dysfunctional, stable or unstable.
Exploring the Depth of Motherhood
After finally welcoming our second child, I was struck by the realization that despite the extensive literature on parenting and motherhood, there were alarmingly few honest narratives about maternity leave. This period is often a chaotic time when exhausted mothers attempt to piece their identities back together, striving to resemble the versions of themselves that existed before. Seizing a particularly hectic week while my husband attended a work course, I challenged myself to capture my thoughts and observations, ensuring they were documented before the inevitable wash of nostalgia dimmed my perspective.
Six months post-birth, I found that rekindling my focus felt akin to revving an old engine—rusty and reluctant. Like Adichie, I felt the lingering effects of the fog that clouded my mind, and I was determined to shake it off. The dual demands of caring for two young children alongside my struggle to reconnect with my former self meant I had to relinquish any concerns about the quality of my writing. This liberation allowed my words to flow freely, driven by the urgency of my lived experience. Once I began to write, a wave of relief washed over me—I could still create and communicate, and that realization fueled my resurgence.
The words poured out as I documented the minutiae of my days, from the slow passage of time that felt foreign to me, to the frustration of still not fitting into my wedding ring six months postpartum. I captured my irritation at the lingering litter at the end of my street, a task I could not seem to find the time to address. I wanted to encapsulate both the small details and the larger existential questions that had arisen. Thus, a concise yet impactful book was born.
Even now, I am still unraveling the ways in which I have been irrevocably transformed by the experiences of conceiving, enduring a miscarriage, and navigating two distinct phases of motherhood. I often find myself caught between home and family and wherever I am when I am not physically present. Every decision I make is filtered through the lens of my family’s needs, causing my sense of self to evolve continuously. As I approach the onset of perimenopause and prepare for yet another hormonal rollercoaster, I recognize that we, as women and mothers, are in a constant state of change. However, we are only beginning to explore this complex territory due to the fear that often surrounds such open dialogues.
It is a slow process, but the words are beginning to take shape. Maternity Service: A Love Letter to Mothers From the Front Line of Maternity Leave by Emma Barnett is set to be released on Thursday, March 13th.
