
How pregnancy has given me permission to be a writer
“And what do you do?” They ask me.
I feel the familiar tension in my chest start to build.
I debate between the truth verses something that is now only half so.
A few months ago I would have said, “I’m a Personal Trainer,” then smile politely as their face brightens with apparent acceptance of why I can take my dogs to the park at 11 AM on a Tuesday.
But that isn’t the truth anymore. While technically I am still a certified trainer and will be for another year, I quit. I left a good job with respectable societal standards to pursue the unconventional path of writing a book.
It took a long time to get to a place where I can now face down the “What do you do?” question and answer honestly — “I’m a writer.”
The difference, in my experience, is that I no longer received the same satisfied expression as telling them I’m was trainer rewarded. Of course they’d say “Oh that’s so great,” or “Wow that’s neat,” but through seemingly clenched faces.
Especially when they asked if I was published and I’d tell them this is my first novel. It made them uncomfortable — hell saying it out loud makes me uncomfortable! Like doubt doesn’t already pull up a seat next to me every time I sit down to work.
Unless you’re an established writer, it feels like quitting your job to write a novel is not an acceptable way to spend your time. It’s the thing you do in the late hours of the evening after you’ve already worked an eight hour shift. The hobby you keep out of the spotlight and spend time crafting on the weekends. And for many creators out there, that is the schedule they must master until they don’t have to.
Even my close friends and family, who love and support me, would let their apprehension slip through the cracks on occasion. “Hey if you’re looking for a part time thing…,” “We know someone who is hiring.” Or they assume that what I’ve told them is that I’ve quit working all together and can drop everything on a dime because my schedule is completely disposable.
If you have ever written or are currently trying to write book, I don’t have to tell you how that assumption couldn’t be further from the truth. Creating a story that grows into a full fledged novel is one of the hardest things I have ever attempted.
The process consumes me. At the end of the day I’m left with either the most humble pocket of hope that this will work out, or in a self doubting hell that makes me wonder if I should go back to reality.
“Why not do both?”
That’s usually the next question. I have done both, and there may again come a time when that is exactly what I will have to do. My desire to write wasn’t the main reason I decided to leave personal training — that’s a story for another time.
For now, I am putting my work ethic, my time, and my heart into something that I wish I would have narrowed my focus into years ago. For the first time in my life, I am unapologetically chasing something I actually want.
I’m terrified.
I could fail.
It was and continues to be a challenge not to amp up uncertainties when my radius is filled with well meaning skeptics.
Eventually, I arrived at a place mentally where it no longer mattered to me if I gained acceptance from others. It felt really good to let all of that go and just hone in on what matters to me and my family.
And then I got pregnant.
It’s happening.
It’s incredibly surreal.
My fingers leave the keyboard as I type this to feel the small yet undeniable bump growing beneath my sweater. If I thought I believed in magic before.
While I could speak on the innumerous ways this miracle is affecting our life at the moment, I am surprised to learn how much it’s particularly adjusted the attitudes of those in my life aware of my career aspirations.
Since becoming pregnant, it feels as though acceptance regarding my decision to quit my job and write full time has shifted. Like I have this pending job on the horizon in a few short months, so now it’s okay that “I am a writer.”
And I absolutely do!
I am not ignorant of the responsibility we are about to embark on as parents. However, my book baby and my human baby are not interchangeable. I know that when the baby comes my world is going to be rocked. Getting back into a rhythm of writing everyday is going to take time, but I’m still going to write. This book is still going to happen.
Like many mothers out there who return to their full time jobs after maternity leave, I will be returning to my job. I’m just incredibly fortunate that my office resides at the same place where I get to look after my child.
Being a full time stay at home mom is a job. Especially since being a mom is not the only hat you wear; I’ve already learned this just from being the spouse who works from home. My husband busts his ass all day and has been the most encouraging person in my life about wanting my focus to be on writing.
So yeah,
I don’t mind being the one who takes the dogs out everyday, who does all the domestic chores that keep our home running, or being the one to run all the errands during the week so we can have our weekends together. And now we’ll be adding baby to mix.
It’s a lot.
This fact might be the reason conversational energy about my book has transformed from subdued skepticism to blanket enthusiasm. I mean, no one really asks me about writing anymore, but the baby news certainly has shielded me from comments about career prospects.
Maybe they never took me seriously, and now it’s easy to pacify my writing goals with bland acknowledgment because they know that a baby will eclipse most of the things in our life. At least for awhile. But just because being a mom is enough of a job, doesn’t mean our dreams go out the door.
All I know is that if it’s easier for the world to accept me as an aspiring writer because we have a baby on the way, it doesn’t matter. People are going to have their silent (or not so) judgements about you whether your following your heart or not.
I’m learning that you never need permission to live the life you want to live. My journey doesn’t guarantee success, but my family is growing, I am writing, and I can’t imagine another path I’d rather be on.
