The pieces in Dispatches from New Motherhood cover a wonderfully wide spectrum of the motherhood experience. In today’s offering, I PROTEST, Emily Way writes of attending a climate strike with her six-month-old daughter last summer in Bristol. It’s a vibrant, empowered piece of writing that shines a light on maternal mental health.
Emily says, ‘Despite trying to write positive poetic words about my pregnancy and newborn days I kept finding myself coming back to the postnatal depression I was living and the grim reality which came with it. It was obviously something I needed to write about, to process the complex emotions I was feeling, and I found it therapeutic. So it felt only natural to explore it in my final piece.’
Of the protest itself, Emily says, ‘I remember having to really build up the courage to go to that climate change march, and finding it so rewarding once I was there. It had been such an empowering experience, I wanted to write about it so that I could always remember the hope I had felt that day.’
‘As Hazel was my second child, the writing class provided me with precious time spent with my baby, just me and her. She loved the social interaction with other children her age, and I loved having a shared creative outlet during such an intense time.’
We’re delighted to share Emily’s powerful rallying cry here.
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I Protest
Emily Way
It was a Monday morning in July 2019 and Bristol was in the midst of a heatwave. As I stepped off the bus I could hear the beating of samba drums echoing down the street. My heart, in response, was thumping wildly in my chest. With my baby strapped to my front, I headed towards the music, focusing solely on putting one foot in front of the other.
I was on my way to join a climate strike over rising sea levels. A cause which will affect us all, but one especially poignant for parents of the next generation. Like my own mother, who had gone to Greenham Common whilst eight months pregnant with me, I wanted to share this with my daughter.
However, the reality of my current state was one of exhaustion. My baby was now six months old and since the beginning of my pregnancy I had experienced a relentless depression. Antenatal, into postnatal: each day it continued I was further immersed into darkness, and I was losing sight of a way out. The guilt this produced in me was unbearable. There was so much expectation: to be a good mum, a happy mum, an attentive mum. My protest wasn't just about rising sea levels. This was a way to channel my 'mum guilt' into something positive.
Bristol Bridge was teeming with activity, the atmosphere joyfully harmonious. It was a festival of colour and sound, a sensory experience no baby class could compete with. I ambled around at first, not knowing what to do with myself. Then as we watched the samba band, I found myself enjoying the rhythm, my body remembering the moves. I held my baby's hands in mine, and swayed, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face. Lost in the crowd, surrounded by people, I felt freedom: freedom of speech, mind and body. There were no expectations of me, no judgement, just the knowledge that we were all there for the same reason, the same ethical morals, the same message. I felt thrilled for the first time in months.
It had only lasted minutes, but this experience had been a glimmer of light in the darkness – and it’d felt like a beacon of hope.
My daughter turned one recently and I am beginning to feel like myself again. The light is finding its way in more freely now, and I find myself noticing life, finding joy in the warmth it brings. There are still dark corners, but if I think back to that day, it gives me the strength to protest. I forgive myself and remember there is always a way out, I just have to find it. And the truth is, parenting can be like scrabbling around in the dark a lot of the time – so maybe carry a torch with you for a while, just in case.
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I Protest by Emily Way appears in the Mothership Writers anthology Dispatches from New Motherhood. All 50 pieces from the book will be published here over the year to come, creating an online library of what it really means – right here, right now – to be a new mother.