It seemed like a good idea at the time. 'The Sunday
Telegraph would like you to write an article for them', said
Lynsey, my publicist. '750 words, on an important,
relationship-centred incident or turning point in your life.
They'll pay you and you get a book credit.'
Well, fledgling authors, especially those with books out soon,
don't turn down the chance to write for the Sunday
Telegraph, but finding something to write about, that was a
different matter entirely. Especially as it soon became clear that
any incident from my past that might interest Sunday
Telegraph readers was unlikely to be one I was prepared to
have aired in a national newspaper.
But there was one idea that wouldn't go away. It wasn't a
subject I was comfortable talking about, (for reasons that should
become very clear) but the more I thought about it, the more it
seemed that this was the one. The biggest point in its favour? It
was directly relevant to the central theme in Blood
Harvest.
People often ask authors where they get their ideas from and my
answer is always the same. Personal experience. The villainy at the
heart of Blood Harvest is built around the idea of children in
danger from the very people they should be able to trust. Well,
that was a subject I knew something about.
I've never harmed a child, (just so we're clear) and don't
believe I ever would. But when my son was a newborn I experienced
what I believe is considered a form of post-natal depression. I
fantasised about harming, even killing him.
So that's what I wrote about. Those terrifying first weeks with
my baby when dreadful thoughts would spring into my head from
nowhere and I genuinely believed there was something seriously
wrong with me.
I wrote the article, but was far from sure I wanted millions of
people to read it. I talked it over with a few friends who didn't
seem particularly phased. They even mentioned hearing of other
people who've experienced the same thing.
Still wasn't sure.
'People might think I'm nuts,' I said to Mr B one night.
'A lot of people think that already,' he replied, helpfully.
I was going to do it, I decided, it was my duty to all the other
new mums who would be going through the same experience. It would
let them know it was normal.
The article appeared last Sunday. On Mothers' Day. Nice timing.
There was my name, in bold type, a photograph of a woman not unlike
me cuddling an infant and the startling blood-red heading: "I
fantasised about killing my baby."
Why had I ever thought this was a good idea?
As I braced myself for a visit from Social Services, I took
comfort from the fact that new mothers the length and breadth of
the country would know that the scary thoughts in their heads were
nothing more than the brain's way of processing an entirely new and
bewildering experience. I fully expected a few friends to take me
quietly to one side and thank me for being so brave.
A week on, no one's said a word. Does no one read the Sunday
Telegraph? Despite my courage in speaking out, is the subject
still not ready to break free of its taboo? Or - now here's a
thought - maybe it is just me. Maybe I really am a
monster.
Sharon J Bolton: Psycho Mum, available for lift share, play
dates and baby-sitting. See you at the school gate, ladies!