Today’s topic came by surprise. I thought I’d write a forward thinking post about creating my future, but instead, I wrote about my past. I hate writing about my past. I also hate writing long sentences. This post has both.
Unedited First Draft on top, Writing Reflection on the bottom.
— UNEDITED FIRST DRAFT —
“The best way to predict your future is to create it.” Abraham Lincoln
Two years ago, I desperately wanted a third baby. My youngest was nearing two, so I was at the stage where you’ve forgotten how rough the first few months are because you’re too busy chasing your monster, I mean toddler.
But my husband wasn’t ready. With an iPad and late tee-time, we played our first foursome, the two boys staying on the cart of course. It was the first time we’d done an “adult” activity as a family, and you couldn’t have wiped the smile off my husband’s face.
But I had this feeling, this yearning for a change. It first came on as baby fever; all the usual symptoms were there:
– More baby photo likes on Instagram.
– Keeping mental lists of potential baby names.
– Wondering if the boys would ever sleep if they shared a room.
But the jump from 2-3 was a big decision. We’d just heard several horror stories from our friends, whom upon arriving at their hotel with a newborn, were forced to get a second room, all because of the newborn that would sleep between its parents and two siblings in the other queen bed, leaving the $360 adjoining room empty.
I wasn’t bothered by the hotel disaster; I was bothered that something as insignificant as a second hotel room would sway my decision to have a third child.
I was usually so sure of my decisions, so why was I in such agony over the third baby decision?
“ If I’m second guessing then I’m not ready to decide, so what am I missing here?”
I’d misinterpreted the symptoms.
Beneath the new baby lust was a deeper yearning to create. Deep down, I was yearning to create something and make a new life for myself.
And I didn’t need a new baby to create a new life.
And that’s where the idea for this blog was born.
The original name for the blog was, “Pregnant with Life: The Blog” and I’d planned to talk about exploring new ways to express your creativity, as a process for answering some of Motherhood’s biggest questions.
But after two years of agonizing over design and formatting, reading every possible e-book and blog post about starting a blog and “becoming a writer”, I never published a word. I let a couple of posts go public for a few weeks, but my insecurities about writing made me take them down.
I spent two years telling myself I wasn’t a good enough to start a blog, never fully satisfying my urge to create.
— WRITING REFLECTION —
I was intrigued by this quote so I wrote it out at the top of my page, hoping it would help guide me to write an interesting post.
His words brought me back to my past, something I’m nervous writing about. I have nothing to hide, but I fear it’s boring: how does my past bring you value? Why would you keep reading if you share a similar story? Reading this piece, as is, didn’t help you solve anything.
His quote is intriguing because deep down, everyone wants to create a life for themselves; it’s the very definition of the “American Dream”. But everyone also wonders “how?” and I failed to answer that here.
This blog is about becoming a writer when you have no experience or education in writing, and yet I never mentioned much of this.
I think the piece is structurally flawed. (Yes, I’ve used too many words but my Day 11 disaster taught me that tightening sentences comes later.) It’s flawed because I failed to choose a question you might have, offer some clear answers and use my story to tie it all together.
Times up for today. But please be sure to come back tomorrow to see how I’ve fixed this post.
Follow me on Instagram @onemomswords to see what happens on Day 14 when I try to make sense of this mess.
This is a new blog: no purpose yet, no images yet, no clear sense yet, just words, lots of tangled words.