'The world is not neatly divided into two camps of women, those who wanted to reproduce and did, and those who didn't want to, and didn't. So many of us are caught here, in between, neither one thing nor the other, drifting towards a receding horizon, in our own camp . . .'
When Miranda Ward and her husband decided to have a baby, they were optimistic. There was no reason not to be: they were both young, they were both healthy. But five years, three miscarriages and one ectopic pregnancy later, Ward finds herself still dealing with the ongoing aftermath of that decision: the waiting, the doubting, the despairing, the hoping.
ADRIFT is a memoir about the unique place of almost-motherhood. Some people pass through it without even noticing; others languish there, held safe, held prisoner, by the walls of not-knowing - for as long as there is still a question mark, an open ending, there is a chance of escape.
Inspired by her childhood on the California coast, Ward turns to the water, seeking solace in a landscape of a different kind - the swimming pool. Hoping to make sense of the uncertainty, she begins to ask questions of geography on the most intimate scale. How do we learn to feel at home in our own bodies, even when they disobey? How can we find our way, even when we feel adrift? What language do we have for the spaces in between? Charting a journey through territory at once deeply personal and widely shared, Ward offers a searing, lyrical and radically honest narrative of fertility and motherhood that is less often told.