My children, you took me from a barely maternal woman, broke me down bit by bit until I was almost gone, and then built me back up into the mother I am today —someone who simply can not shut up about the enormity that is motherhood.
The truth is, I write for you, so one day you’ll understand how completely you’ve transformed me, and how passionately I adore my life with you. My son, you once said this to me and I’m going to steal it and say it back to you all: It would take me one million and a thousand weeks to say how much I love you.
Also, sorry for snapping at you every time you tried to ‘help’ me type or every time you chose the one room I was working in to play. But thank you for being proud of me even though this book has no pictures.
I fell pregnant in the middle of writing this book, so I need to thank my little girl on the way for reminding me of all the wonderful and hideous parts of pregnancy I’d forgotten. Your commitment to refreshing my memory about nausea and heartburn in particular should be commended. Job well done.
‘Sarge’, you’re a man whose DNA is hardwired towards secrecy and anonymity. I’m a woman who’s lived her whole adult life writing, reporting and sharing. You might not understand it but you’ve stood behind me every step of the way, you’ve read every single word I’ve ever written and you send me text messages from the couch, correcting my typos before anyone can even comment. I don’t say it enough: thank you. I’m so grateful for you, in every way. I hold our family together, but you hold us up. I love you.
To my parents, thanks for being my biggest, life-long fans. You’re the reason I’m always convinced I can do things, even when I have no evidence to prove I can. It occasionally leads to disaster but more often than not, it all works out.
To my mothers’ group: Erin, Nitya, Rowan and Sunny, thank you for being my cheer squad, my test subjects, my sounding boards, and my unpaid proofreaders. I’m so lucky I walked into the same small brown room as you, nearly six years ago.
Thank you to Maggie Dent, Chezzi Denyer and Erin Molan—three mothers I know, love and admire so much. Asking you to read my words and give me feedback was terrifying but your generosity and graciousness touched me more than I can say.
To my brilliant and hardworking publisher Claire Kingston, thank you for believing this is something I could do. Thank you for trusting me with this idea and for giving me the freedom to write in my voice. This book is yours as well as mine and I think we did great.
To Kelly Fagan and Samantha Kent, thank you for your endless patience, your eagle eyes and your advice. You polished every rough edge to make sure this book was as good as it was going to get and I appreciate it more than I can say.
Finally, to all the mothers who speak to me, from across the globe, every single day. For nearly five years you’ve shared your personal stories, your fears, your frustrations, your successes and failures. Your honesty has taught me that no matter what your approach to parenthood is, we all experience the same worries, challenges, emotions and joy. It’s also taught me that nothing sharpens your sense of humour like motherhood. This book is for you because when we share, we are never alone.