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My son was born in May 2024, and so was I. I am still being born. You might see this as an autobiography, but it is much rather me having found the courage to be blunt and write about my first months of motherhood as it was, pain, tears (both pronunciations), doubt, too much. And then growth, beauty and strength.Not the angelic figure, much rather the bloody fighter.The minute I became a mum in the eyes of the world, I saw it plain as day. The indisputable myth of the perfect mother is still going strong, isn't it? So, to hell with it.My reason for writing each of the stories is candid and unvarnished honesty. Only that could dispel the image of THE mother that is still so damaging, so dangerous. And imaginary. My stories are written spoken word poetry. Not a contradiction at all. Every line completes the whole and stands on its own, as individual as you are, as connected as all of us. You give it meaning when it resounds in your mind, as it becomes voice again. Your voice.
About the author
I have always marvelled at what writing can do, including mastering time. It can go beyond temporal boundaries, stretch moments into vast pictures and condense a lifetime into a single sentence it takes you a second to read. I first wrote stories as a child and have done so ever since, but started seeing myself as a writer the minute I realised I had something to say that exceeded my own self by far. My voice, my words could reach so much farther than I ever would.
Words have an immense, unrivalled power and they must be spoken by each and every one of us.
I studied English Literature and Biology and wrote two novels in that time (though they still remain under lock and key). I decided to publish this book because its topicality needs to touch us. Now. It is about giving time to those it has been stolen from. I know my words can't bring it back, but your power echoes in them.
