Things I Didn’t Know When I Planned to Write a Book on Maternity Leave

And probably wouldn’t have believed anyway

Originally published in Medium on March 14th, 2025

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

When I was pregnant with my son, I remember sitting at the dining room table making a list of things I would do during the day after he was born.

My goal was to use the “extra time” I would have on maternity leave to write my next book.

My list included:

1. Get up and shower

2. Write for a few hours

3. Go to the park

4. Research for book

5. Play and sing

When I found this list a few months ago, it made me snort laugh out loud.

The naivete I had about becoming a mom is both charming and laughable.

Would I have made the same choices knowing then what I know now?

What I do know is that my expectations would be different. I would have a more realistic sense of what was possible and what was better off waiting — as well as the understanding that this is not a bad thing, but that I would come out of this period with a much deeper sense of who I am as a writer and the value I could offer to readers.

Here is what I learned in the hope that if you are an expectant mother hoping to write after your baby is born, it might provide some useful insight.

My priorities would change

Science shows that during pregnancy the brain is rewired to prioritize the baby’s survival over everything else.

This comes with incredible benefits such as a heightened ability to read the emotions of others and form attachments, which serve the purpose of strengthening the family structure.

The brain changes also come with a cost, including what is referred to as “mom brain.” As a byproduct of the upgrades in ability, these chances can include reorganization of attention and memory files, changes in mood, forgetfulness, brain fog, and a narrowed focus.

Over 80% of new mothers report experiencing these symptoms and an overall sense of decline in cognitive function.

For me, this meant that for at least the first year after my son was born I had two priorities:

1. Survival.

2. Sleep.

Even then, I only managed to accomplish the first one most days.

This meant that not only was writing not fathomable at first, but it also wasn’t on my radar as something important.

Had I been told that I wouldn’t care about writing for a while after my son was born, I not only wouldn’t have believed it, but it also makes sense now that I wouldn’t have been able to understand.

It wasn’t until after my brain physically changed that I realized my new priority was ensuring his wellness and everything else was secondary, including my writing.

Had I known that my brain would experience this, I at least would have felt more prepared for how “crazy” I felt at times during pregnancy and postpartum.

It also would have possibly prepared me more for the perceived loss of self that I felt after he was born and became my whole world.

The light in this tunnel that I would have known to look for is that these brain changes are not permanent, that they resolve over time, and that science shows that even though it might feel that way at the time, a woman’s IQ is not altered through this process, nor does it increase any risk of dementia.

My perspective would become enriched and deepen

The thing about living in survival mode is that things that once seemed important disappear and are replaced by things that have more meaning.

For me, this meant that I no longer worried if the clothes I was wearing made the “right” impression (hey, I was dressed). I started to value things I never had time for before, such as feeling the sun on my face, having time to cook healthy meals at home, and prioritizing getting fresh air into myself and the kids.

The more time we spent in nature, slowing down and focusing on simple things, the more I came to appreciate and value these things in ways I never had. My perspective became less about material things and making progress and more about noticing and enjoying the natural world and the present moment.

Once again, science backs this experience, as research shows that creativity is enhanced by being in nature and observing fractal patterns with the senses and that the “flow state” is more easily achieved from a practice of mindfulness and being present.

The unexpected benefit of this for me was that a whole new world of experience and therefore of writing opened up.

Most of the things I feel valuable to write about now come to me during periods when I am “in the moment,” either experiencing nature or sitting quietly as new connections, realizations, or reflections.

It feels in this way that my writing has deepened, and become more real and meaningful.

I am not sure that this unexpected gift of perspective would have happened without being forced to slow down.

I would lose my voice, but it would come back stronger and more “me”

Having two kids in 21 months and keeping them alive came at the cost of losing my identity for a few years.

With new neurological changes making them the priority, it felt like I couldn’t form an opinion beyond what was best for them if I tried.

At the time, this felt sad, scary, and lonely. Everything I had identified with regarding my career and success as a person changed and I felt like I didn’t know myself anymore.

It didn’t help that I experienced what 1 out of every 8 moms will go through as postpartum depression and anxiety. Scientifically, not only does this include feelings of deep sadness and cripling anxiety, but also a loss of self-worth, which makes sense looking back.

The silver lining is that when I started to have time to consider the question “Who am I?” The answer felt more authentic than it ever had.

With less internal expectations to impress others, what I started to hear from inside was deeply “me.”

This means that when I write now, it is no longer from a place of who I think I should be and what that person should say or represent, it is from who I authentically am after stripping everything else away.

Ironically, the years I spent away from writing, when it felt like I completely lost myself, were my path to a more authentic version of myself — a deeper truth, and as a result, a stronger, more real voice as a writer.

It would take four years before I had the mental energy to write again

Had someone told me that I wouldn’t have the energy, focus, or will to sit down and write for two years after my second baby was born, I would not have believed them.

Knowing what I know now about the way pregnancy changes the brain, this makes sense.

It wasn’t that I lost the passion or desire to write, it was more that I had no capacity left beyond what was essential during the day (and night) and that it wasn’t the priority during those years.

The benefit of this reminds me of a horse that has been pent up wanting to run. Now that I have the time, I feel as if my mind is free to explore. With less constraints on my time, and also on my thoughts now that my kids are getting older, I feel a new freedom in what I can consider and create.

Coupling this with a deepened perspective and stronger voice, it feels like taking the long way around to get here was worth it and is liberating in a way I didn’t expect.

Bottom line

The bottom line is that had I known then what I know now, (and believed it), it would have been a sobering realization that my life was about to change in ways I could not yet comprehend.

Pregnancy and motherhood in this context would seem like an improbable path to take if one wanted to become a writer, yet the things that would take me the furthest away from writing at the time would be the same things that would deepen and enrich my perspective and voice as a writer.

The main takeaway that I offer from this experience is that if you expect to use the time following pregnancy to write, it is good to have realistic expectations.

It is helpful to know that neurologically your brain is going to change in ways you can’t yet understand and that this is going to shake up the world as you know it for some time.

As a result, writing might take the back seat as a priority for a while — but, that this is ok.

Be realistic in your expectations, slow down, and give yourself grace — these are some hard but beautiful years and when the time is right, you will come back into yourself with a renewed and deepened perspective. Which just might make you a better writer than you had expected.