A motherhood memoir that blew me away

In my last blog post I spelled out my reservations about "female confessional journalism." I don't like writing that strikes me as oversharing without illumination, and it really bugs me when women are limited to sharing childish mommy stories.

But last night, while browsing Amazon.com, looking at new summer releases, I came across Alice Eve Cohen's memoir, What I Thought I Knew. I downloaded it to my Kindle, and once I started reading her story, I didn't want to put it down. She shares her experience of the chaos that took over her settled life at age 44 when, after experiencing health problems and told she was menopausal and infertile, she discovered that she was actually six months pregnant.

I don't want to reveal too much about what happens next, because a reader should experience the story unfolding page by page, as Alice is told new "certainties" that are dashed again and again. What I Thought I Knew is the perfect title for this memoir, and Alice writes out ever-evolving lists of her own feelings, what her doctors have told her about her condition, and her baby's prognosis.

Cohen breaks through any reservations I have about personal narrative. Once I started, I didn't want to put the book down, so I read it in one evening. What differentiates Cohen's writing for me is that she does not use distancing techniques of humor, irony, or snark. She is incredibly straightforward and pulls us into her experience, sharing her most intimate experiences in a way that illuminates the choice to enter motherhood, along with family dynamics, depression, the fallibility of the medical system, the value of community and professional support, and ultimately, the mystery of grace.

Radio for a Tender Heart

Even Google can't help me find the quote I am trying to remember today. Something along the lines of:

Your heart has to crack wide open
to let the grace fall in.

It looks like I'm going to have to rely on old-fashioned human intelligence. If any of my readers can help straighten me out on the exact quote and source I'd be mighty appreciative. (I love Google but I am secretly glad every time the human brain does something the search engine can't do.)

My heart has cracked open and then closed up again several times over the past few years, for reasons both joyous and grievous. I have shared some of these events with my blog readers but not all of them. I admire the honesty of good memoirists, and all I can think is that if I ever wrote a memoir it would have to be called Things I Don't Want You To Know. I think you have to be willing to tell the whole story; otherwise you're really just writing promotional copy about yourself.

So while you won't get my true confessions yet, I can point you to a radio show that will give you tender food for an open heart. I have been listening to This American Life since 1996. The first show I remember hearing was episode #14, Accidental Documentaries, and I'd like to recommend this week's show, #345, Ties that Bind.

I'm feeling particularly vulnerable right now as I await my Mom's mastectomy on Friday. I am resisting the temptation to ball up into a hard shell like I might typically do. But what can one really listen to, do, or watch in this state? So much of what is broadcast at us comes in the form of completely mindless, distracting, salty potato chip stories that feel satisfying going down, leaving no afterthought whatsoever except a vague feeling of anxiety or dissatisfaction with life.

This American Life is a show of real stories and ideas, with plenty of humor, emotion and true creativity. This week's show hit every note I can imagine, from a hilarious imagining of a fallout between Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble; to a story of a girl getting a heart transplant, and the family who had to lose their son to make her survival possible; to a story of a woman taking up a doctor on his casual, insincere offer, and realizing her dream of having a family. The show made me think about a close friendship that was revoked with no honest explanation, and reminded me to be grateful for every warm squeeze of my daughter's hand. It made the think of the times I have checked in on her during the night, in complete darkness, having to listen in stillness through the sound of my own heartbeat to hear her breathe.

This American Life is available by free podcast, so if you have missed the last 13 years of broadcast magnificence it's still all there for you to discover if you wish. I just sent in my donation today to help WBEZ cover their $152,000 cost of making the podcast available. But this is not a fundraising pitch from me, it's a listening pitch. And a thank you to Ira Glass and his production crew for giving us something that is so worth listening to when we are really listening.