Writing is weird enough without physical stress or your body turning into a blimp. I hear authors talk about their health problems or mental issues and I’m sitting over here, my belly so round it rubs against my desk and makes it difficult to type without pretending I have Frankenstein arms.
Why don’t I talk about it more?
Who knows? I’m usually busy chasing children, working on a story, cleaning up after animals, working on editing, sneaking in some sleep, working on submitting, dealing with the issues in my new house, working on marketing, and finding time to garden, hike, build furniture, and all the other crap that life brings.
But writing while pregnant is a trip. One minute you’re deep in a new story and the next you’re running to the bathroom. (This is why I love notebooks). Mood swings strike at the oddest plot twists. Ideas get mixed up, you forget character names; you forget your own name sometimes.
I don’t enjoy focusing on the annoying aspects of anything. No one wants to dwell on swollen body parts and I don’t mind getting kicked by my kids while they’re in utero. It keeps my mind from drifting to paranoid realms where they’re not getting enough oxygen in there or are born with a third arm and half an eye.
I often talk to my belly while I write. Talking to myself has always been a common practice, only now people don’t think I’m crazy, they think I’m just having a cute moment with this baby.
I enjoy all the weirdness. My kids help increase my creativity so ideas have been spiking a lot lately. It has become more difficult to focus than ever. When writing at work I have to live in my headphones because every little sound my co-workers inspires me to plot their demise, but all the music brings out the danceys which are always fun and keep me from sitting too long.
Movement aids inspiration. The cold months have stalled my walk-n-writes and this bowling ball of a baby makes it more difficult to get up and down, but yoga is a consistent friend.
Taking care of my body and the little person growing in it helps me to be a better author. Crazier too, but it’s been a wild ride. I’m wrapping up my first children’s chapter book and I’ve never been happier about a story. It’s weird and different and probably unpublishable, at least now because it needs to sit and edits will get it ready.
I have about 8 weeks to go give or take a bit, and then I’ll be taking some time to torture this new kid with stories made up off the top of my head. Stories that are too outlandish to ever be written down, tales with a variety of absurdity that my daughters crave and jump up and down to hear at the dinner table.
So does being pregnant affect my writing?
Does it hinder it?
Not one bit.
I’m a writer and that will never change.