Day Nine
Page 23
Does that mean it’s been all sunshine and popsicles after Fiona’s birth? Of course not. There are days I feel the spiral spinning behind my ears. The struggle has never really left me; I am just better equipped to handle its presence. I could fall down hard again. It’s likely, probably. Some days just suck.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter why I got so sick so quickly. The path to healing remains in my hands — in learning to call out what I need, while surrounded by my little ones who need me to survive. With Fiona’s fourth birthday comes the first real celebration of my “birth day.” It’s the first time I can look back on that time and feel okay about it. This good feeling is linked to my recent successes — I’ve been championing child care affordability and accessibility in Toronto and across Canada and advocating for women’s rights, bringing me ten steps closer to my former self, the one who pushed for more women to work in technical jobs. My experience in the psychiatric ward gave me the perspective that nothing is ever so bad in my life, luckily, that it can’t be resolved with time, resources, and help from others.
I’m confident that I will find a way to manage, even if it’s difficult. I’m so sure, in fact, that I’ve quit my full-time job to launch my own business, to focus on the parent community full-time. The Workaround is my new baby. It’s meant to support other parents with the flexibility they need. I’ve been on live TV for national news segments and written about in Forbes, the Toronto Star, BlogTO, the Globe and Mail, the New York Times, and more. Without the trauma of my first newborn experience, I wouldn’t feel so certain that I can overcome any roadblocks in my new business. Having been faced with a life or death scenario and a fog so deep I lost all perspective, I find looking at building permits and floor plans downright pleasurable. I will find my way through this next new phase, and if I get lost, I will allow and invite the help of those I’ve learned to trust. Because whether it’s day zero or day nine or day ninety, I’ve put a stake in the ground for what healthy means to me and my family, and from now on I will do everything I can to fiercely protect it.
Acknowledgements
IT IS NOW WELL ESTABLISHED that I believe firmly in the epic productivity of parents. For that reason, it’s important for me to take the time to thank each of the parents who came to my aid in many ways during the writing of Day Nine, whether I was willing to initially accept their help or not. It’s no surprise that it’s mainly mothers and fathers who immersed themselves in my work, giving their talent, energy, and emotional labour to help me through one of my most difficult projects to date. Of course this happened, because parents are magical.
To my talented, hilarious, sharp, and semantics-obsessed editor, Jess Shulman. Thank you for not letting the days blend nonsensically into night. And while my own mothers will probably not be happy, thank you for drawing out the graphic details where they needed to be present. Not the least of which were the details of my first hook-up night with Gordon.
Many endless thanks to my earliest friends and readers: Krista, Olivia, Blake, and Martha. Thank you for challenging me and asking me to reveal more of my true self. Though I’m sorry to have upended your regular workdays with my emotional rollercoaster, your tears were heartfelt and warmly received.
To Dr. Stacy Thomas, who has proven to me that mental health treatments do not have to hurt. I am genuinely in awe after each session with you, where I leave with a stronger sense of myself and permission to own my success and not apologize for doing great things.
To my agent Caroline Starr, who met me for a late summer sushi lunch and said, “I think your story is a book, and I think you can do it well.” And then for talking me through every hurdle with grace and patience. Oh, and for helping me secure the book deal itself. You are an agent extraordinaire, to say the least.
To Penny, for leading me to Jen, who read an early draft and immediately gave me the confidence to pursue it further.
To my author-partner-in-writing-anxieties, Ms. Amanda Laird, for exactly 4,120 supportive text messages and all the Beyoncé GIFs I needed when I thought there was no way I’d get this book finished. Thank goodness you convinced me to advocate for myself. And for the reminder that nothing is ever truly final. Not even a printed memoir.
To Sarah Lacy, who used an entire flight to Europe to read, critique, and provide book feedback with little more than twenty-four hours’ notice. Only a true badass can pull off something like that. And for giving me a Moroccan tent in the Sierra Valley to talk about this experience with other badass business leaders through Chairman Mom. I still can’t believe I did that.
I have immense, overwhelming gratitude for Nora Jenkins Townson, who showed up in the final moments of this book’s first deadline and helped crystalize the parts I knew needed clarity. Thank you for dropping everything to give me a concrete list of how to move forward. Thanks for putting your things on hold for mine. Thanks for showing up while pregnant. This book is not easy to read when you’re with child.
To Jessica Blaine Smith for reading an early draft of my book solely so she could capture some amazing photos that show light and resilience, and then for staying out long past the photoshoot to drink cocktails, eat dinner, and chat. I’m guessing you knew that a proper adult night out was, and is, a rarity in my life. And you knew we’d have a blast.
To Caitlin Bar for buying me creativity candles and cheering me on from the very first day I said I think I might have a book deal to the day I turned in my completed manuscript. You are one of my biggest cheerleaders and I’m grateful for you every day.
To Jackie Strandberg for writing me the clearest and totally unnecessary legal waiver for permission to use real emails in this book while crying to me over the phone, holding a glass of Scotch in a bubble bath in the middle of the afternoon. Thank you for being my biggest fan, my fiercest advocate, and my professional inspiration. To think we were once neighbours in London, Ontario, sharing wine and mediocre Italian food — and now we’re smashing the patriarchy one project at a time. Oh, and for showing up to care for my baby even though we all know you don’t really like tiny humans.
To my HiMama colleagues who spent their evenings critiquing this very not-work-related project: Alana, Ahmad, Carmen, Theresa, and Shar. I appreciate that you were willing to see another side of me and offer your thoughts on behalf of the supportive non-parents who might stumble upon my story.
To my family, blood and nominated: Max, Alice, Jane, Gloria, Olivia, James, Matthew, Luisa, Michael, Lisa, Jason, Rusty, Susan, Arron, Kelley, Meghan, Norah, Charissa, Sam, Sydnie, and Michelle. Everyone who spent time in our home when Fiona was a newborn did so in the absence of sleep and, if you ask me, sound logic. You have shown up. You’ve listened. You’ve cared. What more can I ask for?
To the woman who brought my children to this earth: Rose, you are my inspiration, my reminder to own your craft, and the source of my daily mantra to prepare for the worst but assume the best. Because in the end, “that, my dear, is perfectly normal. Not interesting at all!” I’m aiming for far less interesting encounters in the future.
To my mother, who lived so much of it in real-time, yet who still shows up every morning with a perfect coffee order and a smile. Thank you for being here and ignoring my every plea to not be.
To Gordon, my level-headed, balanced protector. With you, we are a family. With you, we are strong. With you, I am so madly in love. Thank you for every ounce of energy you spent so I could take the time and space to get this work complete. Thank you for not sleeping so I could. Without you I would be incapable of any success. I love you forever.
And to my children, Fiona and Everett, who remind me daily to work with honour, strength, resilience, and kindness. I hope this book brings you some insight and acceptance for who I was then, and for who I am today.
Book Credits
Acquiring Editor: Scott Fraser
Project Editor: Elena Radic
Editor: Jess Shulman
Proofreader: Emma Warnken Johnson
Cover desi
gner: Laura Boyle
Interior designer: Sophie Paas-Lang