This book came about after watching an episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show. One of Oprah’s recurring themes is getting the right balance in life, and after treating countless exhausted working mothers in my physiotherapy practice, it was at the forefront of my mind as well.
The programme showed school administrator Brenda Slaby. It’s 6 a.m. and Brenda’s driving her two young children to separate childminders, then continuing on to work. It’s the first day back after the long summer break and a particularly busy time lies ahead. Eight hours later, a co-worker rushes into Brenda’s office to break the news that her baby is still inside the car. Brenda has had so much on her mind that she has forgotten to drop her youngest child off, and little Cecilia has died of heatstroke in the hot August sun.
I was heartbroken by this woman’s story. At the time, Brenda described herself as ‘the most hated mother in America’; she received death threats, and outraged mothers wanted her tried for murder.
As I watched, all I could think was: that could have been me.
I, too, had once been so overwhelmed with balancing children and full-time work that I could have missed the one thing no person wants to miss.
This preyed on my mind and I was certain I wanted to write about it – I just didn’t know how. I write thrillers. I knew I couldn’t possibly do Brenda’s story justice. As time went on, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about how women push themselves nowadays. How they push themselves to be perfect mothers and perfect employees, often at the expense of their health and their relationship with their spouse, frequently putting other women down for not operating at such a high level.
A few weeks later, I was in the supermarket car park and bumped into a woman I’d not seen for a while. As I walked away from her, I was left feeling slightly crappy about my life – she’s one of those women who’ll subtly put you down, put your children down, too, given half a chance. I sat in my car, thinking, who is friends with that woman? She must have some friends. But for the life of me I couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to put up with her.
Suddenly it struck me: what if you were to lose her child? What if you were so overwhelmed with work and life that you took your eye off the ball, and it was her child who went missing?
This terrified me.
Possibly the only thing worse than your own child going missing would be to be responsible for the disappearance of a friend’s.
I began writing immediately, fuelled by this fear. Just What Kind of Mother Are You? is the result.
Paula Daly, January 2013