Who are you?

Hi again! I am Stevie (she/her). I mother. I work. I write. When, I’m not working or writing, I’m playing with, singing to, or rocking my baby. I drink air from a wooden teacup. I toast my Oral B toothbrush with a tiny Dr. Brown’s giraffe. I do ballerina twirls to Tchaikovsky, with a toddler in tow. And I end each evening by kissing a plastic whale, a goldfish and a jellyfish goodnight. 

 

What is your book about?

PPA and PPD, intrusive thoughts, forgetting, hypomania, the very slippery veil of reality, motherhood, and maternal ambivalence. Pregnancy was difficult for me, but postpartum challenged the frail veneer of this very world. In concrete terms, the book itself is a hybrid work–blending lyrical entries and lineated poems, while following my postpartum journey. Throughout, the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Score (EPDS)—which divides the book’s sections–unravels, mirroring the unraveling of my own mind.

 

Could you tell us a bit about the process of writing this book?

I wrote much of this while hunched over a newborn baby. Attached to a breast pump. In bed. At my dining room table. In a rocking chair. On a couch. The bulk of the writing came quickly, at a time when my intrusive thoughts and hypomania were at their peak. 

 

What are some books you’ve read and enjoyed lately and/or books that influenced the writing in your submitted work?

This book is in conversation with lots of books on pregnancy and parenthood: Rachel Cusk’s A Life’s Work, Lucy Jones’ Matrescence, Louisa Hall’s Reproduction Hall, and so many more. I found in reading these books what seems ubiquitous and everyday is actually rife with complexity and believe the small but mighty “new parent” canon needs to be even bigger, even mightier.

 

How would you describe your book using emojis only?

🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼

 

Anything else you’d like to share?

Yes.

1. The signs of PPD and PPA extend beyond the ten markers designated on that little slip of paper—the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Score (EPDS)—they hand you on a clipboard at the doctor’s office. There is maternal rage, maternal ambivalence, magical thinking, intrusive thoughts, mania, forgetting–real and scary forgetting, the sense of reality slipping. 

2. Matrescence—the transformation of becoming a parent—is possibly one of the most profound shifts a person can experience, not only due to the immense physical and biological changes (the brain restructures to enhance caregiving, blood volume expands by 45%, hormones surge to unprecedented levels) but also because of the seismic shifts in identity, societal expectations, and relationships. And still, the psychological and emotional support for those carrying, birthing, and caring for new life remains deeply inadequate, with critical gaps in care that leave many navigating this transition alone—especially those most marginalized by existing healthcare and social systems. In short, reform is needed.

3. For those that want to read even more about my ongoing journey, Mother Of is my twice-monthly newsletter. It’s full of sleep-deprived musings on parenting, but also long-form reflections on writing, work, chronic illness, and the world at large.

EXCERPT

the sun is and burning

the palm fronds

on the patio

and above the patio is

a robin

blue sky

and morning and mourning

doves mourning

there are car horns

and chainsaws and men

and tires and tires

turning

one can even touch a chrysanthemum

the right way

for some time

which means

nothing

except I am

a woman

rifling through

an olive –

colored tee

for her breast

for my baby

in early morning

late morning

under a robin

blue sky

my form soldering

into a blade

of grass

for some time

and for a time

I exist

purely

as a nipple

standing in the bath

with my shoes on

too long

imagining it is

raining

outside &

outside

the land blisters and

winds howl

and there are oceans

swelling

into birds

and somewhere

is seeing

today

as today

and today

I am writing this

aging slowly

because I am close

to the sea

and watching

my baby in my arms

on my patio

as though

from space

as if there was such

a thing

as space

elsewhere

on my phone

there is someone

I am watching

who is watching

parachutes parachuting

parachutes of food raining

on a people

& I wonder

what it is like

in a field

& in

snow

to simply desire

a soft

quail

to pull

a string

to release a small flower

it’s 10:52 and I am

tired

of the tree

& the robin

blue sky

who opened the window

& sanctioned the morning

& when is it okay to pull

does it ever

feel like a present

when

is it okay