Menopausal Mother's Day

I’m writing this on a flight back home to Nashville from a weekend on tour in upstate New York. I like to write when I’m in motion – ideas come to me when there’s a current of rhythm under my feet, or in this case, my whole body. I write when I run or walk along the Cumberland River. I get ideas and I repeat them in a rhythm to my stride so that I don’t forget the words. I write while driving, while listening to music I may start writing a song on top of whatever is playing on the radio. I write in slivers of time available to me. And I don’t worry if anything comes or not. I just write. I just show up with the movement of movement cradling me.

It is Mother’s Day and I am a mother and I’ve been reflecting on how my creative journey and my career has changed and been challenged by being a mother. I make a living touring as a songwriter and when I was pregnant, I knew all of that would change. I thought I may have to quit and do something else. What if the Muse left? What if I couldn’t figure out how to be away from home? Would I make enough money touring less? But in the sleepless darkness of pregnancy insomnia, I started to write my blog “Menopausal Mommy” – I couldn’t find any blogs of women my age (49) who had babies and could give me some advice, so I wrote one. I’ve been writing it ever since (if you want to read the blog from 2017 to now it’s at www.menopausalmommy.blog – I’m just moving it over here to Substack).

What I found astounded me. I felt more creative. Maybe it was that my filter had come off. I was turning 50 and about to give birth for the first time. I’d been at it for 20 years, trying to climb a ladder of my own imagination. In truth, I’d gotten pretty high up that ladder but still felt like there was so much more, a place I had to get to in order to feel…what? Successful? Worthy? But I got pregnant and all that changed.

Suddenly, I really didn’t give a fuck. And the songs spilled out, and the poetry started and the blogging started. I wrote in the early hours of the morning when I couldn’t sleep. When Huck was born, I wrote while he was nursing. I wrote instead of napping. I did get off the road for a year, but then Id put Huck in a baby carrier from the front and my guitar on my back and I’d travel with him (and the help of someone else). Then Covid hit, so I was grounded for more than a year, but I started teaching online, and when the world opened up, And I decided to go back to school. I got divorced and while navigating that grief and terror of being a part time single mother (how would I pay the bills alone? How would I tour?)), I got an MFA in Creative Writing and started mainlining poetry and mommy memoirs.

My Muse got really sharp after motherhood and I learned to not question the idea, but to write it quickly. I don’t have hours to sit around and wait for inspiration. I have minimal time, but I build my life around mothering my son and mothering my creative self. I can’t do one without the other. I adore my son and find that if I just watch him watch the world, poetry shows up everywhere. He’s taught me to find wonder in the little things – a dandelion, a pinecone. My son listens to me do my vocal warmups in the car and I hear him mimicking me from his room sometimes.

I used to be a late-night writer. I used to be a late-night human. I’m a morning writer now. I take him to school and come home and meditate, then read a bit of poetry and then I start writing. I’m in bed soon after he is. I’m always tired. I tour every other weekend. Jamey and I built our custody schedules for this, so I’m able to be a very present mother but also have time to tour and continue to sing shows (and make a living). But if all that went away, if I could never tour and play shows, I’d still be writing.

It’s a fallacy to tell writers that they have to write every day or else they’re not ‘real’ writers. That’s a load of bullshit. I don’t write every day. I write when I can. There is no handbook for mothers who are creatives, working artist mothers. I know so many men who are touring songwriters and are able to tour for weeks, months at a time. I don’t know any mothers who do this (unless they are big enough to afford a tour bus and a full-time nanny).

But I’ll be honest, there is absolutely no way I could continue to tour and make a living as a songwriter if I were a full-time single mom, or if I had more than one child. You really can’t have it all unless you’re wealthy. There’s really no such thing as “having it all” – I mean having WHAT exactly? I have enough. And I’ve learned to be grateful for the enoughness of it all.

So Happy Mother’s Day to anyone who mothers, whatever you mother, whether it’s a human or a plant or, most importantly, yourself.

Amy Speace is an award-winning Americana folk singer and songwriter discovered by Judy Collins. Her songs have been recorded by Ms. Collins and many others and she has won International Song of the Year from the Americana Music Association (UK). Her writing has been published in The New York Times, The Guardian, Working Mother, and Salon.com. She received her MFA from Spalding University and teaches English at Cumberland University. She resides in Nashville, Tennessee, with her son, Huckleberry, and her dog, Dusty Springfield. The Cardinals, coming Sept 1st with Red Hen Press , is her debut poetry collection.