I admit it. I keep trying to find ways to link motherhood to writing so you writing readers of mine will still have something to come here for. Yet it's difficult to do. I'm not really sure how changing diapers or entertaining an infant with colorful toys relates to writing--I can see how it will affect my writing, both in terms of time (not much now, but eventually!) and in terms of content (huge changes to my psyche).
I want to say, though, to all parents who come through here: I had no idea. I didn't realize how hard you were all working, how thankless a job it is (meaning that you can't do it for the reward, only for the joys that come unexpectedly), and how much you could love a person who was only an idea before. Now that I know, I want to apologize to anyone I expected too much from. The early years are all consuming.
These early years are also unparalleled--it's amazing to hear your baby laugh at something you personally find no humor in. I regularly wonder: 'What is he thinking?' When he sleeps, what is he dreaming about?
It's hard to think about writing fiction when there is this real child developing into a person before my eyes every moment. He grows overnight. He is only two months in the world but already he has preferences and expresses himself. That's amazing.
I know, I'm not the first person to do this. But it sure feels like it :)