Send Me Into The Woods Alone

Toronto writer Erin Pepler, talks to AW’s Shelly Kawaja about her debut collection of essays on motherhood.

SK: Congratulations on writing such an insightful book on motherhood. What motivated you to write this book and share your experiences?

EP: Thank you so much! Well, I’ve always been a writer—I wrote a lot of stories and poetry as a kid and started writing nonfiction as a teenager—so I’ve always been drawn to this medium. I love reading essay collections and thought maybe one day I’d write one, but it wasn’t until I had kids that I had a clear idea for a book.

There are so many unsaid things about pregnancy and motherhood, and the more I experienced, the more I wanted to write about them. Basically, I wanted to write the type of book I wish I’d read as an expectant or new mom. The idea was never to offer advice or present myself as a parenting expert—it was more about saying those complicated things we whisper about in a louder voice, validating some of the more difficult experiences mothers often have, pulling back the curtain on all of it. It’s very much meant as both a call to arms and a warm hug for all moms.

SK: You describe pregnancy as a medical condition, as opposed to say, a miracle. How did this kind of thinking help you through your experience with pregnancy as well as inspire you to sharing your story?

EP: I could not wait to have children, but I had absolutely awful pregnancies. I had hyperemesis gravidarum both times, so all I did was throw up violently and cry. At one point during my second pregnancy, I was on IV fluids in the hospital taking hardcore anti-nauseants that are typically reserved for people undergoing chemotherapy. It was not a beautiful or magical experience—it was something I had to get through in order to have children. Unfortunately, everything I’d seen or read about pregnancy was pretty glossed over, so I was completely blindsided by the fact that it’s a medical nightmare for a lot of people. It did not feel glowing or empowered by my body’s ability to create life! It was horrible and I wanted it to be over, which felt very shameful at the time. I talk about it a lot now because it’s so important that we normalize this type of experience. You’re not a bad mom if you hated being pregnant! You’re not weak if it’s hard for you! Pregnancy is medical, not an indicator of your parenting ability or love for your kids.

SK: There are some laugh out loud moments in this book. One of my favourite lines: You can choose to look back on pregnancy with rose coloured glasses—or never look back at all. And if you’re still in the thick of it, just remember—this too shall pass. Sometimes quite literally, through your vagina. What role did humour play in your writing process?

EP: Honestly, I never set out to write a funny book—that’s just how I speak with my friends and how I write. I am really drawn to absurdity in all areas of life and am more likely to highlight something weird or awkward than gloss over it, especially if it’s my own actions or experience. Even bad things can be funny in retrospect, and I lean into that. Some people connect with this type of storytelling and others don’t, but I truly don’t know how to write any other way. It does make me feel good when people say the book is funny because it’s like, oh good, they understand me.

SK: Many of us women are aware of the impact that fairy tales have had on our expectations for romance, but less so on our expectations for what a pregnancy should look like. In what way did this image; the virgin Mary/the glowing Hollywood mother-to-be, play into your experiences?

EP: I’m very pragmatic and not particularly romantic, but my experience with pregnancy was still nothing like my expectations. I didn’t expect pregnancy to be fun—I thought I’d have morning sickness early on, be uncomfortable near the end, get stretch marks, that sort of thing. But I imagined those issues would be a small part of an otherwise positive experience, so I could handle it. I had no idea you could be incredibly sick for nine months, like so sick you cannot function, while dealing with sciatica and swelling and passing out because your blood pressure is so low.

You see all of these gorgeous pregnant celebrities posing naked or appearing in public looking the same as they always did but with a cute baby bump. The vibe is very much empowerment, beauty, womanhood. There is this goddess-like presentation that implies that if you ‘take care of yourself’ while pregnant, you’ll thrive. I knew this was a totally unrealistic standard for women but there was still a massive gulf between what I expected and what I experienced. I kept wondering what I was doing wrong, as if it was my fault I was throwing up constantly. I was young, healthy, eating well, never smoked, didn’t touch a drop of alcohol while pregnant, doing everything ‘right’ and yet I spent hours lying on my bathroom floor with vomit in my hair. It was very isolating and I felt like I had failed at something that is very much associated with nature and womanhood.

SK: Postpartum anxiety is not a term I’ve heard before but it really does go hand and hand with being a parent. You describe the feeling like Pac-Man parenting, but suggest you are not alone—how has the support and experiences of other mothers, and other mother writers, informed your own experiences?

EP: Anxiety is so common, and I’m glad people are talking about it more openly now than they were a decade ago. As a new parent, my anxiety showed up in the form of sleeplessness, nightmares, separation anxiety and intrusive thoughts—not about me hurting my kids, but about all of the bad things that could happen to my family. It put me constantly on edge, hence the Pac-Man comparison. Like, just running your ass off trying to keep your family safe and well, feeling that if you stop being hyper-vigilant for even a second, something bad will happen and it will be your fault. It’s not logic-based, but knowing that doesn’t make the feeling go away. I’ve read a lot about postpartum anxiety in recent years and that’s been really validating, but when I was experiencing it, I didn’t even have a name for it. I wish I’d been able to tap into that community when I was in the thick of it, because it would have helped me navigate things in the moment rather than understand them in retrospect.

SK: Clearly there were children in your life when you wrote this book. Can you talk a little about your process and how you managed your time around writing, parenting, and life’s other demands?

EP: Yes, definitely. I started thinking about this book when my oldest was a baby, but I didn’t start writing it until my kids were school-aged. I was working full-time, raising two kids with my husband, trying to wrap my head around these ideas and turn them into essays in my spare time. And if you have kids, you know that spare time doesn’t really exist, ha. So it took a lot of effort, planning and support to get it done. My husband encouraged me to book a hotel room by myself and focus on writing. My mom owns a small business, and she gave me a key to her office so I could go there at night and work in a quiet, empty space. I spent a lot of time writing at coffee shops after my kids were in bed, or in my living room long after midnight. I’m a binge writer, so I tend to write a lot at once and then not touch the draft for a few weeks. When I’m editing, I’m much more steady and methodical. But even with the support and privilege I had, there were times it felt impossible. Like, I’d be struggling to write because I was feeling tired and burnt out, and then I’d think, but when will I not feel tired? This is the stage of life I’m in, I’m not going to be well-rested next week. So I’d make a coffee, pull myself together and get it done, with varying degrees of success. This is not good advice! Coffee doesn’t replace sleep.

SK: The title of your book really captured my attention. I think all writers, especially writer mothers, dream of running off into the woods alone at times. But you show how your own creative space, the one in your mind, can also be a place where you can find time to yourself. Can you speak a little about how writing brings balance to your life?

EP: I don’t think I’ve ever had true balance in my life because I’m perpetually over-committing myself and am always tired.  I want to do all the things all the time, and then need to decompress from those things. My sleep habits are atrocious. That said, writing does give me a sense of balance in that it’s an essential part of who I am as a person. As long as I’m writing, I’m being true to myself. A lot of mothers feel like they’ve lost themselves somewhat, especially in early motherhood, and I can see why—it’s all consuming. Moms aren’t to blame for that—it’s a consequence of the patriarchal systems we all face, among other things. But writing is a piece of myself that I’ve never lost, so it’s given me balance in the sense that it’s kept me tethered to who I’ve always been, what I love doing, how I process the world around me, all of that. My identity remains my own, and there’s a lot of value and freedom in that.

SK: What is the biggest challenge or hurdle you have had to work through as a writer?

EP: Finding the creative energy and/or mental capacity to be somewhat articulate when I have limited time, or a very specific window of time that doesn’t necessarily align with my headspace. Like, if my husband takes the kids somewhere on a Sunday afternoon so I can have a few uninterrupted hours to write, that support is really valuable—but what if I find myself staring at a blank screen because I’m not in the right mindset? Then I feel guilty for wasting time that could have been spent with my children. Mom guilt is persistent, even with a great partner. Because family time is so precious to me, I feel pressure to get a lot done when I’m away from my kids.

SK: What are some of the ethical challenges you face as a writer? EP: Above all else, it’s been writing about motherhood while respecting my kids’ privacy. I wrote this whole book without naming either of them and have pretty firm boundaries. That was a very conscious decision, to write about motherhood and my experiences without delving into my kids’ lives too much. They didn’t write a book, they didn’t choose to have a mother who writes creative nonfiction, they cannot consent to their personal information or stories being shared. It was a deliberate choice to centre the book on motherhood and not my children. They obviously play a role in the book and it wouldn’t exist without them, but I hope when they read it one day, they feel that I was considerate of them. I certainly tried.