The two things that I can’t stop writing about are motherhood and death.
There is so much death in motherhood. When we become pregnant, we die to our old life. We change on a chemical, physical level, but also a deeply spiritual and emotional one as well. Historically, though, motherhood has been a threat of full body death. Childbirth was risky, a death sentence for many. Even in modern times, we are anxious in our pregnancy. We feel this foreboding that we can’t quite shake, because deep within us we know that our ancestors died this way.
So much of what I write about comes back to the past- to history, to the humanity, to how we are still the same creatures we’ve always been. We wear new clothes, eat new foods, and yet our hearts are filled with the same longings, we carry the same grief, we reply on the same hopes. It always comes back to our ancestors. It always comes back to Time.
