The Birth of Undoing (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions, 2025) by Emily Patterson is an unapologetic exploration into infertility, motherhood, spirituality and nature, and survival on the quietest of days. This poetry collection moves through the body and its “failures,” through life in longing and labor, and through marriage and early motherhood. It emphasizes the importance of living an imperfect life and savoring hard moments as much as the whimsical ones. These poems beg the reader to sit with their difficult emotions and discomfort; while they don’t offer answers to the emotions that so many women will feel throughout our lives, particularly surrounding motherhood, they do make you feel heard, and maybe even less alone, as we all move through a life we cannot.
One of the collection’s central themes is infertility and the frustration, grief, and anger that accompany it. Patterson describes the heartbreak of feeling like your body has been created for one thing, reproduction, and if you can’t fulfill that purpose, constantly asking yourself: What’s wrong with me? Why is this happening? Why are my prayers being ignored? In “At the Garden Center on Mother’s Day,” Patterson writes, “See, this is what I thought it meant / to be a woman: one who bears, / not one who wants” (21). This devastating juxtaposition between bearing and wanting is crucial to the emotional turmoil the speaker feels before they turn to fertility treatment, presumably in vitro fertilization (IVF), a process that not only requires hope but also sacrifice. Sacrifice of money, time, the body itself. Even sacrifice that the speaker’s partner has to endure with her, including nightly injections. In “Night Class with Gonal-F,” Patterson describes one of these recurring evenings, writing: “On the side / street where he waits, idling in the old Jeep––second pen in / hand, still cool from the fridge. The twin bruises, blooming as / I walk back to class” (24). Through countless months of yearning for answered prayers, the speaker reveals a pregnancy is finally at hand, but despite the overwhelming joy, there is also a crippling sense of doubt. The poems in this section of the collection balance on an unknown precipice as the speaker dares to ask herself: Will my body finally give birth to the living spirit I have so long yearned for?
In the months of pregnancy, Patterson wrestles with the idea of motherhood, trying to fit herself into the image she imagined. “I am no mother / goddess, cheeks serene / as a winter haloed / in gilt,” she writes in “Self-Portrait as Not the Giantess,” continuing with,
“Like her,
I go barefoot in the late spring
heat, yet my ankles—fat and pink
among thick green—
are nothing like her slender
soles.” (32)
Despite the heart beating inside her, she still feels disconnected from the great mythology of motherhood, a concept many have grappled with for centuries.
But finally, the birth announces a new daughter into the world, complete with ten perfect fingers and toes, the speaker is sure to count. Here, we meet the title poem, “The Birth of Undoing,” which emphasizes how becoming a mother is not one singular moment during labor, but a collection of feelings, sounds, and pains, tears and joy. And how, as your daughter grows, you come to see the world through her innocent eyes and find divinity in the world’s simplest moments. It’s these moments where gratitude and awe weave themselves into the poems; gratitude for a grandmother who takes care of her brand-new grandchild on Mondays and Tuesdays, for a husband who has made the journey survivable, and for a life that took years to plan but arrived so unexpectedly. And even in these moments of bliss, depression, postpartum, or simply the dark cloud that seems to follow the speaker through life, continues to make itself known. Described in “Walking in the Rain I Wonder When Postpartum Depression Becomes Just Regular Depression,” Patterson writes about how “this grey haze fades and comes back again” (43). Still, instead of giving in to that darkness, the speaker has learned “how to walk without watching for rain. / To let go of the maps we draw for ourselves. / To let go of what we think the weather should be” (43). Speaking on this matter unapologetically is crucial to breaking the stigma around this topic and paves the way for community among new mothers.
Even while broaching the heaviest topics, Patterson grounds her metaphors in tangible things, like food and nature, throughout The Birth of Undoing. In the same way she describes Cape Elizabeth as “cups / of clam chowder, thin onion rings, cold pickle coins,” she compares faith to pomegranate seeds, like a “supple forest: every fruit ripening / just out of reach.” In “The Only Constant,” where the speaker continues to doubt their worth as a mother, she writes,
“The thing is, you forgive me constantly:
missing mittens, blackened bread,
the edge in my voice that reveals
too much, the way I am still learning
how to forgive myself.” (58)
Patterson does not glorify nor vilify motherhood; she instead embraces all of its woes and priceless moments of celebration, laying it all on the page, which is what makes this book so poignant. She allows both suffering and joy to coexist, leading to a collection that feels devastatingly honest and encourages its readers to become undone in a way that makes us realize the parts that make us whole.
The Birth of Undoing is available from Sheila-Na-Gig Editions
Elizabeth “Lizzy” DiGrande is a graduate student in Emerson College’s Publishing and Writing program, where she also serves as a Transformational Leaders Fellow and Writing Assistant for the Emerson Grad Life Blog. She is on the board of Boston’s Women’s National Book Association and is passionate about amplifying women’s voices in publishing. Originally from New Jersey, she now resides in Boston and can often be found perusing the city’s public libraries or exploring new restaurants. She hopes to build a career as both a food writer and literary agent championing female-identifying authors.
