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the five escapist books I've read since giving birth
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The antenatal classes had gone hard on the necessity of boosting oxytocin during early labour, and so while I had nary a birth plan, I was insistent that I would pass those first contractions by making a ragu, as if giving birth were akin to a drizzly winter Sunday afternoon.
Obviously, I did not make a ragu. But I did spend those first hours of my son’s birth reaching for Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. I had a good working knowledge of the Tudor monarchy, and I dunno, the womb wants what the womb wants. I continued to read it during the first 10 weeks of his life, during the strange twilight hours of night feeds. My body, my life, felt out of time. Better to sink into things that happened 500 years ago.
Second time around none of us expected the baby to arrive and she nearly did so in a carpark. Even my husband, who takes a paperback to a football match, didn’t think to grab one.
But I’ve loved sinking into books since she’s been around. This is her tenth week, so it felt fitting to share what I’ve been escaping to.