New Horror Story Coming Soon: “Maternity Leave”

A couple of years ago, I wrote a short story called “Maternity Leave” about a woman who, due to unfortunate circumstances, is alone in her apartment with her colicky newborn. With nobody to help her, sleep deprivation devolves into madness, while a neighbor stalks and threatens her because he’s tired of hearing the baby cry.

This was one of those stories I thought would never find a home. It got rejected 25 times (plus 7 non-responses). This summer, the stars must have aligned, because it got accepted twice in the span of 24 hours: for a horror anthology and for a podcast. Maybe it was the Lindsay Clancy criminal trial bringing renewed attention to postpartum psychosis. Or maybe it was just this story’s time to shine.

I often find myself writing about the horror of pregnancy and the postpartum period. My own experience of being pregnant was pretty cool: feeling the baby kick, anticipating what it would look like and so forth. But I wasn’t prepared, and maybe nothing can prepare you, for the extreme sleep deprivation that comes with caring for a baby who sleeps only an hour or two at a time for weeks on end. I’ve never feared for my sanity before that, and I might not be here today without the support of my husband and family. That baby is now a smart, beautiful, funny, capable 17-year-old, and still, nearly two decades later, I haven’t forgotten the fear I felt during that period (what if I really and truly lost it? Would I be aware of it? Would my baby be safe?).

My as-yet-unpublished novel, Gyre Island, touches on these themes, which I feel deserve more exploration in fiction generally, and in the horror genre specifically. What I experienced myself is far from the worst scenario I could imagine. So many horrors are unique to pregnancy. The terror of getting pregnant when you’re not ready. The visceral weirdness of watching your own body transform, of seeing a tiny footprint pressed into your skin from the inside. The fear that something could go wrong during pregnancy or childbirth, up to and including the death of your baby and yourself. The primal fury I and others feel toward politicians who would force us to gestate and give birth to a child even when the pregnancy resulted from rape. The torture of carrying a fetus that has passed away, waiting for nature to take its course while well-meaning strangers fawn over your belly and ask when you’re due. The fact that women are expected to grin and bear all of this without complaint, as if our fears don’t matter.

I’m not allowed yet to reveal where “Maternity Leave” will be published, but stay tuned!

Shout out to the critique group of the Horror Writers Association’s Chicagoland chapter, who helped me hone this story and shape it its devastating ending.