On Wednesday night I finished the first draft of my novel about a woman who has a lot of miscarriages. I wrote a novel loosely based on my experience instead of a memoir because I’m a nobody and have no following on the internet (except you, dear reader) and because remembering real life events is hard and because a family friend literary agent encouraged me to write a novel after seeing one of my plays a year and a half ago. And I was like “okay, I can do that.”
I’m really excited about the work I’ve done since Evan was born. It has not been much, frankly, but it’s been the amount I was capable of producing. And the book is not done, it’s just a first draft. It will need revisions. And I’m excited to get to work on them. But it feels like a huge accomplishment for me to have written it. I’m proud. It’s 274 pages! Over 70,000 words! Who would have thought I could produce that much content? Not me.
On Tuesday, I was on a real roll with writing, wrapping up the last chapter of the book, and Evan was napping. He had been kind of a shit that morning, peed places he wasn’t supposed to pee, etc, but he was sleeping peacefully in that moment. My friend asked me how my day was going, on Gchat, as I was writing, and I replied, without thinking about it, that my day was going great. And then I was about to qualify it by saying “except that Evan isn’t doing that well with the potty today” but then I realized that I was actually having a great day. I was being really productive. The goodness of my day had nothing to do with the emotional life or developmental level of my toddler. And that was a bit of a breakthrough for me. I’ve read things before that suggest you not hang your mood on your toddler’s behavior, which is good advice, and I was like, “oh yeah I don’t do that,” but that’s a lie. I super do that. It’s hard as a parent not to pin all your happiness on your child(ren). But it’s healthier for all involved. I, personally, was having a great day. And I was able, in that moment, to realize that. This was probably the first time I was able to do that SINCE THAT DUDE WAS BORN.
So, you know, it’s a good place to get to, 2-3 weeks before having baby #2.
Speaking of baby #2, things are looking pretty good on that front. I have less horrible symptoms with this pregnancy than I did with the first, which is fantastic, though parts of me feel like they are turning inside out and I would prefer them not to. But that’s all part of the deal. I only have a few more weeks to go, I can handle it. I don’t love the feeling of my belly sitting on my lap, but whatever. I have 2-3 more weeks of being pregnant FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, FULL STOP. Unless something horrible happens. And it would be horrible. Like, it would be fine, but I do not like thinking about that possibility. Let us never speak of it again.
I don’t know, guys, it’s hard to talk about the specifics of pregnancy right now for me without thinking about women in general and feminism and misogyny and super fun stuff like that. I’m going to a conference this afternoon about women and public policy and I might be seeing Elizabeth Warren speak and I’m more excited than when I saw 98 Degrees when I was 13. And they came on stage FROM THE AUDIENCE. And Nick Lachey basically walked right by me! So, you know, I’m pretty excited to talk about creating a sustainable early childhood care and education workforce. Ooh and there’s a talk about legislative campaigns for paid family and medical leave insurance! I’m pumped!!
In conclusion, I wrote a book, kids are great but they shouldn’t dictate your mood, my body is a mess but slightly less of a mess than last time, and the future is female. <3