I recently wrote an article (What If…) for Newbooks Magazine, which has been published in their July/August edition. Sadly, the piece isn’t available on their web page, but they were more than happy for me to post the article – in which I discuss the inspiration for Sworn Secret – for those people who don’t subscribe to the magazine. Many thanks to Newbooks Magazine for including me in this month’s edition. What with this, my first public reading a couple of weeks ago, and a recent radio appearance as a guest on Anne Diamond’s show on BBC Berkshire, the run-up to publication day is getting more and more exciting!
“When my first daughter was born I was hit with that sudden responsibility all new parents feel. Here was a child and it was my job to keep her safe and happy, and deliver her to adulthood in one well-adjusted piece. The drive home from hospital, our tiny baby buttoned into an outsized Babygro, felt fraught with danger. My heart thumped as I walked down those wet, November steps to our basement flat, cradling her eggshell skull. Our babies lie there, helpless and dependent, tiny hands grasping handfuls of air, and you know you’d die protecting them. As they grow you begin to lengthen the proverbial apron strings. You say yes to that first sleepover, allow them to cycle the roads, let them head into town with friends. Age draws our children away from us. And how unaware they are of this shift in responsibility! How cavalier they are. How merrily they wave goodbye. Did she hear me remind her to look both ways before crossing? The first time I dropped my eldest at the cinema to see a film with her friends I was struck by how grown up she seemed. When did my baby get so big? I watched her walk away from me, unaware of me, involved with her friends, amazed at how precariously she balanced on her teenaged cusp – on one side the baby I cradled, on the other a fully grown adult free to make her own way. You get to a point in parenting when all you can do is cross your fingers and hope your child will be sensible, won’t walk on train tracks, won’t drink to oblivion, won’t do drugs. The list of things you hope your child won’t do is endless.
Every now and then the thought flashes through my head: What if something happens to one of my children? A suffocating dread fills me, tears spring, and I wince. It was this dread that consumed me as I wrote Sworn Secret. I imagined myself glued to videos of her dancing aged three, riding her bike aged five, giving me a double thumbs up over her tenth birthday cake. How would I muster the energy to dress, to shop, to eat, even? I’d have to, of course, if only for my two other daughters. It’s this conflict between giving up and carrying on, of coming to terms with what’s redefined you as a parent, which inspires the book.
My eldest daughter is cloned from my husband. They are chalk and chalk – her mannerisms, her dark looks, her calm, studied reservation – and I am often heard exclaiming: ‘You’re so like your father!’ What if the worst happened? I worry that all I’d see in him was her, a harrowing mirror reflecting her back to me every time I looked at him; everything about him a constant reminder of my loss. Would our relationship survive this onslaught? I adhere to the what-if rule of narrative development, linking one eventuality to another by answering a series of what-ifs. What if a teenage girl died in a tragic accident? What if her parents discovered something that not only altered their perception of her, but posed questions surrounding her death? What if her mother became so consumed with the truth that she neglected her living daughter? The family in Sworn Secret – Kate, Jon, and Lizzie – have a strong foundation of love, but would this be enough to hold them together in the face of such what-ifs? In writing this book I forced myself to confront my fears as a parent. It’s these fears that lie at the heart of the book. It’s my love for my family that lies at its soul.”
Oh my gosh I can’t wait to read your book Amanda! I have this anguish all the time and tears sometimes spring to my eyes when I realise how fast our two girls are growing up and making their own way into an adult world and imminently rendering Chris and I as parents, completely redundant. I also sometimes think that morbid thought, “What if I lost one?” (My parents sadly lost their son and my sister and I thus lost a sibling, so I guess I come by the feeling honestly..) I also can feel the ‘let down’ reflex when I see little babies, so is my vivid memory of absolutely loving breast feeding… so that love of family is something ALL of us can relate too… roll on August and good luck darling!!! xxx
Hey Anita
Thanks for your comment! I think these fears are universal, and really, not something we ever talk about or even think about if we can help it. Writing the book was strange at times, dwelling on such thoughts. I occasionally found myself crying at my desk. That’s very sad about your brother. I imagine is affects your parents, and your sister and you, very often.
Axxx
My dearest, Amanda. How apposite your post feels, having just been through the first anniversary since our daughter Lola was born, and lost. I remember going through so much of what you refer to; the feeling that it would be impossible to recover from her loss, that our lives would always be dark and we would never be happy again. I also remember saying to my husband that I felt sure that losing her was so overwhelming, it would be too big for the two of us to cope with, that it would destroy us; how could we possibly cope as individuals, let alone find the strength to look after each other while we faced up to what had happened to her and to us. I felt sure it would somehow tear us apart. And all the while, I had no idea these themes were central to your first novel. I have been meaning to pre-order a copy on Amazon, and will still do. The content is likely to be very ‘close’ for us, so I can’t promise I will be able to read it straight away. But I will read it. And when I do, I know from your post that it will be insightful and inspired. You are an amazingly intuitive, thoughtful and talented writer. Well done, my friend. xxx
Thank you for your comment. It was hiding in my WordPress lockup for quite some time, so apologies for the late reply. Your brave and honest words made me cry. You and R have been amazingly strong. You are soon to be blessed with a daughter who you can lavish all the love and care in the world upon. You will both be such amazing parents. I cannot wait to meet her! With regards to the book, I certainly would hate for you to feel ‘obliged’ to read it. Of course the pain that you are feeling will remain raw for quite some time, and will be with you in some form – a rationalised form that perhaps doesn’t sting with such ferocity – for all time. She was and remains well-loved and will always be remembered, not only by yourselves, but by those friends and family who love you, of which C and I are two. You are an inspiration. Sending thoughts and love. Axx
The strength of these ‘what ifs’ sometimes leave you wondering, selfishly, if life wouldn’t have been easier without bringing little ones into the world. But then you look on in awe as they become exciting and grown-up. I am so glad I’ve been able to give that to my two and however difficult it looks in the future to cut the strings, they gradually fall away by themselves often and it just feels ‘right’. Much better to have loved and lost and be able to look back on wonderful memories, however horrific the prospect is.
That is so true. And you’re right about the strings falling off in their own time. In fact, some problems occur when people perhaps try and hold on to them for too long. Part of knowing we’re properly alive and we properly love is imagining the worst. Those emotions are so vivid. Thanks for your comment. xx
I also can’t wait to read your book, although I think Neil will give it a miss as he is a total softy and wouldn’t want to read about what ifs …
Isn’t it said that the best thing you can do as a parent is to bring your children up so that they no longer depend on you? Sounds like you’re on the right track Manda. Px
Yes, having independent children, however agonising it is to see them no longer need you is a good thing. I think! Though I do find myself yearning for the years when my eldest especially was attached to my hip and calling flowers ‘warlies’. Sniff sniff.
Cheers for taking the time to comment, P. xx
All the thoughts and feeling you have poured out in this post resonate with me and I guess most mothers. My eldest daughter is seven and is wanting more independence that I am so reluctant to allow. I did a lot more on my own when I was her age. Playing over the park, walking to the local shop. I find it sad that it’s a sign of the times that we give them their roots but struggle to give them their wings! Best of luck with the book.really looking forward to reading it
It’s one of those things that, as you say, all parents have in the back of their minds all the time. Ultimately, something like this is our worst nightmare, and those mothers and fathers who have expreienced such tragedy have our sincerest collective sympathy. What interests me is the aftermath and how in the face of this the ‘life must go on’ mentality is achieved. You’re so right with your observation that nowadays we are so much more fearful of the what-ifs. I still worry about my daughter walking or biking alone and she’s nearly fifteen! It is interesting though, certainly in my experience, that as you loosen the ties it becomes easier. Once they’ve walked to the shop alone for the for the first time, and appeared back safe and sound, the next time there’s less worry because, of course, the what-ifs are rarer than we fear. Thank you for your kind words about the book – much appreciated.