Detachment

"Detachment" is an autofiction about different kinds of motherhood: joyful and tragic. It’s about a confrontation between a person and the system at the moment when they are most defenseless and helpless. It’s about a place where it’s truly scary. And about doctors who once chose work over their own lives—strict, imperfect, outwardly impassive. But behind that composure there is always someone else’s grief, which can’t help but be felt as a personal tragedy.

“Empty space— the one you leave the maternity ward with, without a child—will never be filled. This is a physical sensation of absence… When he is there, everything is different. He will grow up and cry from colic, from teething; he’ll wake you seven or eight times a night. He’ll have a fever, diarrhea, chickenpox—sometimes he’ll cry just to get your attention, and you’ll be exhausted, drained, with a sore lower back, greasy hair, and blue circles under your eyes. But you will be someone’s mother. And it’s forever.”