Writing is always a function of life. Whatever inputs received, whether through reading or experiences, eventually get out on paper, or digital paper. When something as big, literally, as pregnancy happens, it is inevitable that my writing would be influenced by it. These are the 3 ways that pregnancy has changed my writing.

1. The Setback

Unfortunately, the first change it brought was a setback. During the beginning of pregnancy, writing essentially halted because I was too busy barfing to form coherent sentences. I had a good momentum beforehand too, so I had to re-build it after that season passed.

2. Thinking about Home

As evident in recent posts, the experience of witnessing another identity forming inside me makes me think about my own identity and the idea of home. I am a host, a landlord or some sort, to someone else. I’m very involved, yet the process is still distinct from me. This other identity is intimately connected to me, yet also foreign.

Obviously, this other identity is unconscious of this whole process. In a way, he is so much at home that he’s not aware that he’s a guest.

In the U.S., recent events and political discourse have made me feel more aware of being a foreigner than ever before, even though I’ve lived here for a long time. Do I even have a home anymore?

I know that these sentiments are not unique, because the posts on Home-Longing and Home in Language have brought upon conversations with friends, especially fellow Indonesians, who resonate with these thoughts.

Perhaps as adults, or displaced adults, home is less about geography and more about the relationships we form. A friend told me that he doesn’t feel at home anywhere anymore, but he said, “When I look at my son, though, I feel home. I feel I belong.” He assured me that I would feel the same way too, and I look forward to that.

3. Letters to My Unborn Child

I was stuck, writing-wise, for a while. Not because there was nothing to write about, but because the thoughts were too private, emotional, and raw. In other words, not blogging material. So I started to write privately to my unborn child about the thoughts, feelings, and confusions that I have at this moment of time. I’m no Ta-Nehisi Coates or Omar Saif Ghobash, but I would assume my reflections would be most relevant to my own child.

It’s not so much for the baby as it is for me, though, to record feelings and hopes contemporarily, as evidence of a thinking and conscious being in 2017. Writing for a specific audience just makes the process easier.

But, also, if the said child were ever curious about me, he would at least have some data. After all, there’s no guarantee I will be around when that happens, or have the chance to have these conversations with him someday. You never know. I may be an emotionally inaccessible Asian parent in the future. If these writings remain, then at least there would be some breadcrumbs that he can track.

We are all influenced by our parents’ identity, in good and bad ways. Sometimes there are things about ourselves that we can’t explain simply because we inherit them. And we may never understand these cause and effects because we don’t know much about our lineage. Hopefully, these letters can help my future progeny discover who they are and explain their own identities one day.

Some songs that connect with me these days.