Becoming a mother is like crossing a great divide. You spend nine months in a bubble of your own making—sights and sounds seep through, but faintly, as if nothing could be as real as the rumbles and gestures emerging from your very person. The body is talking to you, insistently, nauseously, hungrily, giddily, alerting you to its needs and rhythms, all but blocking out the workaday world. And then one day, birthday, you hit the wall and you're on the other side of the looking glass again. Stunned and exhausted, you watch your childless friends carry on with their hectic lives while you move in slo-mo, a butterfly caught in honey. You wait for your old life to reclaim you, to suck you into its lockstep. And you struggle with the words to explain the strange expedition... More >>>