I’m thrilled to be a part of a beautiful book brought together by Motherhood Uncensored. As one of the only Scottish writers featured and having had such a huge emotional journey around birth and motherhood, I am passionate about using writing to explore emotions and the stickier, less spoken of elements of this transformational time. This book launch will feature a long open mic session to bring together women’s voices and have a good old sharing session.
Join us in Glasgow to celebrate the release of Motherhood Uncensored: 35 Authors Explore Things Left Unsaid About Motherhood, a powerful and thought-provoking anthology.
Tickets available here.
Alongside author readings from the book, we will be raising funds for vital maternal mental health charities and opening the floor to hear your own stories.
Sign up for a 3 minute open mic slot to share the untold truths about motherhood or the road to becoming a mother. We want to bring hidden truths into the spotlight and hear your creative reflections, tackling subjects of fertility struggles, loss, inequality, the impact of motherhood on identity, mental heath, work, relationships, and the moments of joy that emerge amidst the challenges.
Tickets are free but there are two options, one if you would like to read and one if you are coming as a guest. We will be organising a running order on the night as you arrive.
There will be copies of the book for sale and prizes be to won on the night. We are very grateful to the wonderful
, and for their donations.Signed copy of Cacopony of Bone by Kerri ní Dochartaigh
Signed copy of Raising a Happier Mother by Anna Mathur
Online 1:1 mentoring call with Kirsty Strang-Roy to read and discuss up to 2000 words or 5 poems
Two free spaces (March and April) on MOSS MOTHER MOON online women's writing workshop and lifelong subscription to
Substack by Kerri ní Dochartaigh
Proceeds will be shared between Make Birth Better and PANDAS Foundation UK.
My short piece ‘The Search’ is included in the anthology, an excerpt is below:
Two of us left and three came back. Under the dark midnight ink of a January sky.
We jostled in through the door, wild with anticipation and the cluelessness of it all.
Immediately I missed the hospital ward. Tiny peas and mashed potato with a gooey crust. The comfort of the big orange button glowing faintly through the night, where, with one press, the answers would always come. The answers weren’t always wholly truthful. Yes, your baby will be sick quite a lot, he’s clearing the fluid from his lungs. Yes, your iron levels are improving, we won’t be sending you for a transfusion. Yes, we can remove the catheter after twelve hours and you won’t feel it. No, you can’t stay here.
I missed the presence of the other newly minted mothers behind partitioned curtains. I missed them shifting in their sleep, their babies dozing beside in plastic cribs. I missed the quiet connection built by forging through the flames together on the same day.
Now I walk the house. Stained with milk and sweat and blood.
I look under things, picking them up, putting them down. I look in the fridge and above the cooker hood. I forget the names of things. I forget that my life used to have a running order and a rhythm, instead roaming the confinements of a house I don’t recognise in the short spaces when the baby isn’t at my breast.
The event is 18+.
Find out more on Instagram: @kcrawfordcreative and @uncensored_motherhood_stories.