Motherload, a self-prescribed pause and my gift to you.
It's been a minute... welcome back to Dear Dilate 2.0.
“She keeps an office in her sternum, the flat bone in the center of her chest with all its urgent papers, vast appointments, lists of minor things. In her vertebrae she holds more carnal tasks: milk jugs, rotten plants, heavy-bottomed toddlers in all their mortal rage. She keeps frustration in her hallux, senseless chatter, jealous fangs, the spikes of a dinosaur’s tail. The belly is more complicated—all heartache and ambition. Fires and tidal waves. In her pelvis she holds her labors, long and slippery. In her clavicle, silent things. (Money and power. Safety and choice. Tiny banquets of shame.) In her hands she carries their egos, small and flimsy. In her mouth she holds their laughter, gentle currents, a cosmos of everything.” – Motherload, By Kate Baer.
I sat down to write this newsletter over two months ago. March 7, 8:33pm reads the timestamp on the Google document I first drafted. I have been thinking about what to write to you for the better part of the year but officially put my fingertips to keyboard a couple of months ago. I have made ‘89 edits’ since then, which tells me two things.
1. Just how much I have been ruminating on what to say and what to do with Dear Dilate since I hit pause on December 7, 2021 (Instagram reminds me), and 2. I stop and start a lot due to my tendency to procrastinate and my challenging work conditions (right now I can hear my toddler screaming blue murder because my silly husband didn’t let him squeeze the toothpaste onto his toothbrush). I haven’t been doing anything out of the ordinary. It is the same old story when it comes to being a mother. Just like Kate Baer’s poem, Motherload, describes; I am filled from my head to my hallux with work, both paid work and the unpaid labour of being Mum.
Last year I took a hiatus from DD. I lost the ambition that was once in my “belly”. I had a wakeful toddler, Covid outbreaks, a new family business, dwindling health and a handful of freelance projects thrown in for shits and giggles; my fire, my ambition and my entire self were exhausted. The truth is, I hit pause on a lot of aspects in my life - bar the necessities, such as work and mothering. I didn’t want to let go of Dear Dilate, the thing, my thing, that brought me so much joy but I simply couldn’t do it all (a surprise to no one).
I still remember when I first published the ‘At Home With’ Instagram series on DD two years ago. With a six-month-old with reflux who was doing a whole lot of screaming and not much sleeping (till this day I haven’t quite figured out sleep), a husband who had quit his stable job of 17 years to start a business which is thankfully now a blessing, and a global pandemic – I realise as I write this, it all sounds slightly insane starting a side project amongst the chaos but I guess it did feel like it was the perfect time. I guess I needed to feel like I was doing something other than being Mum, or perhaps I was desperately searching for a remedy to the loneliness that new motherhood often brings. Either way, I felt ambitious to start something of my own and then felt like as good of a time as ever.
The funny thing about ambition is that it’s innate and does not leave us when we enter motherhood, some say it only heightens it, and dare I say most of us need to work, and not just in the financial sense but because it is much more than a job, but a piece of us. DD wasn’t a financial venture, I started this alongside the paid work, and of course, being Mum. I just couldn’t ignore that niggle inside of me to write, create, and do something meaningful. Amanda Montei, writer and mother, sums up my niggle so brilliantly;
“Perhaps what we mean by “ambition” is a woman’s simple desire to feel human? A woman’s right to participate in public life? To leave the home at all? I guess I have “ambitions outside the home.” But my “ambitions” are to be in conversation with others, to be in community, to write and make things, to have freedom of movement and mind, to not be alone and depressed and addicted to things. My goals are both lofty and not.”
Though that niggle has never left, I knew I had to give myself some grace, and taking a self-prescribed pause allowed me to understand the true value of flowing with the seasons of motherhood. Especially now as we have entered anew; Freddie started daycare and he loves his “school” days and “new best friends”, and my motherload has begun to feel much lighter. With my son in care, two days a week and one day with my mum and dad, I can work regular hours instead of cramming everything in after dark. Another positive; I have the capacity to take care of myself again, I’m reading and writing just for the love of it (you can read my poems on motherhood here), I regularly exercise for both my body and mind, and I’m feeling that fire and ambition once again.
What does this mean for Dear Dilate?
Now, 148 weeks from the first time I posted on @dear_dilate, I’m ready to continue with DD - but not as it was. It was and still is about creating a platform I truly care for and that I believe is so needed to survive modern motherhood – honest conversations, connections and sharing words straight from mothers' mouths. It transcends far beyond career advancement and the unattainable archetype of the ‘Supermum’ - with that in mind I want to start slow (moving at the pace of a working mother). The quality of the essays will remain the same but I have evolved DD into be a monthly newsletter and niche community on Substack – a platform that will allow me to easily write and publish regular articles as well as connect with you, the mothers who make DD so special.
Here’s what to expect in your inbox –
At least one personal essay a month from myself, a guest or an interview/profile piece.
A monthly open thread (maybe more) where you can email DD and get advice from our community, comment or make recommendations, and get to know each other a little better (you’ll receive another email from me on this over the weekend).
Lastly, as my gift to you for your ongoing support, a PDF download of one of my most shared poems, The Working Mother, to print and keep as a reminder for when you need it most.
Thanks for sticking around,
Jade x
