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The Motherload: Episodes from the Brink of Motherhood
Like most of us, Sarah Hoover grew up imagining a certain life for herself—career, love, marriage, children—and when Hoover moved from Indiana to New York City to study art history, the life she’d imagined began falling into place. She got her degree, landed a job in a gallery, made friends, and went on some exceptionally bad dates. She also met interesting artists, one of whom became her future husband (a whirlwind romance, theirs, exciting even with its imperfections). But when Hoover got pregnant, the life she imagined began to unravel.
She felt like an imposter in her own body. She grew distant from her friends and husband. She suffered from anxiety, fear, guilt, and shame. She also experienced trauma at the hands of one of her doctors—a stark trigger. And eventually, when her son was born, there was no… joy. Instead, she felt “disoriented, lonely, and like none of my clothes fit.” Why was she seeing and hearing things that weren’t there? Why was she so angry and miserable when she had everything she thought she wanted? Why was the life she’d built falling apart?
It took her months to discover that she was suffering from severe postpartum depression. And it took even longer to trace all the threads that came to inform her experience.
At its core, The Motherload> is about learning to forgive yourself for not being what you’ve been told you must be and for not loving the way you’ve been told you should. It’s about the uniquely female experience of constantly grappling with expectation versus reality, no matter your circumstance, and a rejection of the cultural idea of the mother as a perfect being. It is a moving, exciting, roller coaster ride, and a propulsive addition to the canon of women’s literature.
She felt like an imposter in her own body. She grew distant from her friends and husband. She suffered from anxiety, fear, guilt, and shame. She also experienced trauma at the hands of one of her doctors—a stark trigger. And eventually, when her son was born, there was no… joy. Instead, she felt “disoriented, lonely, and like none of my clothes fit.” Why was she seeing and hearing things that weren’t there? Why was she so angry and miserable when she had everything she thought she wanted? Why was the life she’d built falling apart?
It took her months to discover that she was suffering from severe postpartum depression. And it took even longer to trace all the threads that came to inform her experience.
At its core, The Motherload> is about learning to forgive yourself for not being what you’ve been told you must be and for not loving the way you’ve been told you should. It’s about the uniquely female experience of constantly grappling with expectation versus reality, no matter your circumstance, and a rejection of the cultural idea of the mother as a perfect being. It is a moving, exciting, roller coaster ride, and a propulsive addition to the canon of women’s literature.
352 pages, Hardcover
Published January 14, 2025
423 people are currently reading
12063 people want to read
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April 22, 2025
i reach my mid-twenties and suddenly i'm interested in books about being a mom...biology is a hell of a drug.
this was a very, very honest book, but not a very reflective one.
i didn't know going into this that it's by the sarah hoover who is married to tom sachs, whose ill-advised job posting for an "executive assistant" involved 24/7 nannying and pooper-scoopering and so on led to his being exposed as a pretty sh*t boss among other things.
i just thought it was by a sarah hoover, a pretty common name, exploring the realities of post-partum depression and pregnancy and childbirth and mothering in a misogynistic society.
i had no awareness that her version of all of the above was that of the 1%, and that there were only about 3 days between nannies when that process didn't involve constant, live-in help.
post-partum depression (and all of the other issues mentioned above) are under-discussed and critical, but there was just no self awareness here. every time i would begin to root for sarah, she'd include another crazy moment of unrecognized privilege: crying over how much she hates the 15 minutes a day she makes herself spend in her baby's company, refusing to go into one of the world's best hospitals where her husband is paying the cost of a fancy hotel for her private room, writing at length about how her sister's horrifically traumatic stillbirth affected her.
this isn't to say that wealth can buy your way out of subjugation or trauma or mental illness, but that an acknowledgment (or god forbid, a single grain of salt) would be nice.
i'm complaining a lot, but i didn't hate reading this book. it just left a bad taste in my mouth.
and i thought all of that before i learned that she repeatedly lied and used her sister's trauma without permission.
bottom line: this is a necessary book. it's just that it shouldn't have been sarah hoover writing it.
(thanks to the publisher for the arc)
this was a very, very honest book, but not a very reflective one.
i didn't know going into this that it's by the sarah hoover who is married to tom sachs, whose ill-advised job posting for an "executive assistant" involved 24/7 nannying and pooper-scoopering and so on led to his being exposed as a pretty sh*t boss among other things.
i just thought it was by a sarah hoover, a pretty common name, exploring the realities of post-partum depression and pregnancy and childbirth and mothering in a misogynistic society.
i had no awareness that her version of all of the above was that of the 1%, and that there were only about 3 days between nannies when that process didn't involve constant, live-in help.
post-partum depression (and all of the other issues mentioned above) are under-discussed and critical, but there was just no self awareness here. every time i would begin to root for sarah, she'd include another crazy moment of unrecognized privilege: crying over how much she hates the 15 minutes a day she makes herself spend in her baby's company, refusing to go into one of the world's best hospitals where her husband is paying the cost of a fancy hotel for her private room, writing at length about how her sister's horrifically traumatic stillbirth affected her.
this isn't to say that wealth can buy your way out of subjugation or trauma or mental illness, but that an acknowledgment (or god forbid, a single grain of salt) would be nice.
i'm complaining a lot, but i didn't hate reading this book. it just left a bad taste in my mouth.
and i thought all of that before i learned that she repeatedly lied and used her sister's trauma without permission.
bottom line: this is a necessary book. it's just that it shouldn't have been sarah hoover writing it.
(thanks to the publisher for the arc)
January 31, 2025
I preordered this book and couldn’t wait to read it. I have a nine-month-old and am from Indianapolis. I love Sarah’s mom’s restaurants and everything she’s done for the Indianapolis community, especially for women and children. I’ve followed Sarah on social media and been intrigued by her Carrie Bradshaw-esque life and her willingness to be vulnerable about how hard early motherhood can be. I imagined this story was going to be like talking to a friend who had just gone through something similar and who could commiserate and validate my own postpartum experience.
I have so many thoughts after reading this. In a way it’s reflective of early motherhood itself, where two conflicting things can be true — I could love it and struggle with it. What I loved was that an honest book like this exists. I was so eager for it, having gone through my own postpartum struggles. I was also intrigued by the back drop of raising a baby in New York City among artists and interesting people. And like many, I loved the cover. There’s little to compare in our experiences, but I’m raising my daughter in Chicago and understand Sarah’s desire for independence and the continuation of a life built pre-kids. I also understood the irrational fears, evolution of a marriage, psychoanalysis of the relationship with your own mother and loss of identity in those early days. I know intentions were good and honest in writing this book, and I’m all for and was excited for a woman to unabashedly take up space and share her truth.
What I hated was that it was in almost no way the relatable book I craved. Rather than reaching across the table to say, “no one tells you it’s this hard, it’s okay, you’re not alone,” she seemed to believe she’s the only mother to experience the struggles of having your life flip on its head after having a baby.
She lost me early in the book describing growing up in Indianapolis — painting a picture of tornados ripping through cornfields out her window and growing up with kids who lived on farms. We grew up on the same side of town and this was just such a gross exaggeration of what it’s like living there, especially in the private school system. I pictured NYC editors asking if they could dramatize that bit and make it seem like she was Dorthy desperate to get out of Kansas. I couldn’t help but question the credibility of her dialogue and recollections from there on out.
What I struggled with the most and couldn’t connect with is that she had the luxury of completely disassociating and dipping out during the rawest and hardest first few weeks after coming home from the hospital, getting an easy pass by throwing money and resources that hardly anyone else has to have another woman raise her baby. She did all the things I longed for those first few weeks — getting her hair and nails done whenever she pleased, going to yoga, meeting a friend for a glass of wine. She talked about dreading her obligatory 15 minutes of being around her son each day. All I could think of was how I’d had no choice but to methodically plan 15 minutes a day away from my daughter to take a shower without her attached to me. She talked about staying in bed for multiple days when her baby had just come home. Those first few weeks feel impossible for any new mom, and to paint this picture that she was the only one who got that, without even having to do any of the actual hard work or face the pure exhaustion that comes with it, honestly just brought back some of my own postpartum rage. She talks later about how she regrets these early feelings and how it was driven by PPD — which I do understand — but it just made this book something different than I’d hoped it would be, becoming more of a look into how a woman who has every convenience works through something that is so pervasive in our society.
She tried to sprinkle in some self-awareness disguised as self-loathing, acknowledging she had advantages that many don’t, but it just became a repetitive ramble. I also recoiled at the way she described her sister’s stillbirth, and just hope that her sister was part of the process and agreed to having something so tragic and personal exposed in such a callused and frankly self-absorbed way. She makes a comment about ‘artists speaking their truth even at the expense of other people’s egos.’ That might be how she reconciles it, but I don’t think it added enough to her story to warrant the way she depicted it.
I was so excited for this book. I listened to podcast interviews and thought Sarah was on a mission to help other new moms. In interviews, she talked about how she wanted to reach women and help them feel less alone, which is what I was expecting to find in these pages. Sadly, that just didn’t come through in the book. She not-so-subtly judged other women who wanted to be moms and while I know it’s a memoir, which inherently is about oneself, how she views the universe with herself smack in the center of it was undeniable. She tried to come full circle and reflect on what she learned in therapy, but it felt too late for me.
I’m sad to not be able to recommend this and talk about it with friends. Going into it, I thought it would be a book I’d buy for all my pregnant friends. I’d planned to make my husband read it. Instead, it was a singular story that just spotlighted the wealth divide in this country. I myself am a white woman who grew up in a similar environment — and I grapple with my own desire to express how hard it is to be a mom when I know how lucky I am. It’s not that I took issue with the unrelenting complaining — it’s that she never took a step out of her world to connect with or learn from anyone else who might have been able to relate. Or ideally, a step further, which really could have brought some depth to this book, if she had connected with and learned from someone who actually had the cards stacked against them like most working families do. I clearly had too high of expectations and was asking A LOT!
I feel deeply for her depression and am glad she got the help and processed what she went through. Writing this book had to be cathartic. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the vast majority of women who have also carried this mental load and never had the choice to just disassociate until they felt ready to be around their child. I’m not jealous of the ability to make that choice. As hard as it was, those early days were when I really fell in love with my daughter. I just wish there would have been more acknowledgement and reconciliation with such privilege in her writing.
What I did realize in reading this and could appreciate and relate to is that people don’t really talk about how hard and common that postpartum period is, and I wish more people did. Clearly it can come after anyone. But this book left me yearning for a story and a voice that actually could help more women feel seen, less alone — one that could evoke some real conversation and change.
I have so many thoughts after reading this. In a way it’s reflective of early motherhood itself, where two conflicting things can be true — I could love it and struggle with it. What I loved was that an honest book like this exists. I was so eager for it, having gone through my own postpartum struggles. I was also intrigued by the back drop of raising a baby in New York City among artists and interesting people. And like many, I loved the cover. There’s little to compare in our experiences, but I’m raising my daughter in Chicago and understand Sarah’s desire for independence and the continuation of a life built pre-kids. I also understood the irrational fears, evolution of a marriage, psychoanalysis of the relationship with your own mother and loss of identity in those early days. I know intentions were good and honest in writing this book, and I’m all for and was excited for a woman to unabashedly take up space and share her truth.
What I hated was that it was in almost no way the relatable book I craved. Rather than reaching across the table to say, “no one tells you it’s this hard, it’s okay, you’re not alone,” she seemed to believe she’s the only mother to experience the struggles of having your life flip on its head after having a baby.
She lost me early in the book describing growing up in Indianapolis — painting a picture of tornados ripping through cornfields out her window and growing up with kids who lived on farms. We grew up on the same side of town and this was just such a gross exaggeration of what it’s like living there, especially in the private school system. I pictured NYC editors asking if they could dramatize that bit and make it seem like she was Dorthy desperate to get out of Kansas. I couldn’t help but question the credibility of her dialogue and recollections from there on out.
What I struggled with the most and couldn’t connect with is that she had the luxury of completely disassociating and dipping out during the rawest and hardest first few weeks after coming home from the hospital, getting an easy pass by throwing money and resources that hardly anyone else has to have another woman raise her baby. She did all the things I longed for those first few weeks — getting her hair and nails done whenever she pleased, going to yoga, meeting a friend for a glass of wine. She talked about dreading her obligatory 15 minutes of being around her son each day. All I could think of was how I’d had no choice but to methodically plan 15 minutes a day away from my daughter to take a shower without her attached to me. She talked about staying in bed for multiple days when her baby had just come home. Those first few weeks feel impossible for any new mom, and to paint this picture that she was the only one who got that, without even having to do any of the actual hard work or face the pure exhaustion that comes with it, honestly just brought back some of my own postpartum rage. She talks later about how she regrets these early feelings and how it was driven by PPD — which I do understand — but it just made this book something different than I’d hoped it would be, becoming more of a look into how a woman who has every convenience works through something that is so pervasive in our society.
She tried to sprinkle in some self-awareness disguised as self-loathing, acknowledging she had advantages that many don’t, but it just became a repetitive ramble. I also recoiled at the way she described her sister’s stillbirth, and just hope that her sister was part of the process and agreed to having something so tragic and personal exposed in such a callused and frankly self-absorbed way. She makes a comment about ‘artists speaking their truth even at the expense of other people’s egos.’ That might be how she reconciles it, but I don’t think it added enough to her story to warrant the way she depicted it.
I was so excited for this book. I listened to podcast interviews and thought Sarah was on a mission to help other new moms. In interviews, she talked about how she wanted to reach women and help them feel less alone, which is what I was expecting to find in these pages. Sadly, that just didn’t come through in the book. She not-so-subtly judged other women who wanted to be moms and while I know it’s a memoir, which inherently is about oneself, how she views the universe with herself smack in the center of it was undeniable. She tried to come full circle and reflect on what she learned in therapy, but it felt too late for me.
I’m sad to not be able to recommend this and talk about it with friends. Going into it, I thought it would be a book I’d buy for all my pregnant friends. I’d planned to make my husband read it. Instead, it was a singular story that just spotlighted the wealth divide in this country. I myself am a white woman who grew up in a similar environment — and I grapple with my own desire to express how hard it is to be a mom when I know how lucky I am. It’s not that I took issue with the unrelenting complaining — it’s that she never took a step out of her world to connect with or learn from anyone else who might have been able to relate. Or ideally, a step further, which really could have brought some depth to this book, if she had connected with and learned from someone who actually had the cards stacked against them like most working families do. I clearly had too high of expectations and was asking A LOT!
I feel deeply for her depression and am glad she got the help and processed what she went through. Writing this book had to be cathartic. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the vast majority of women who have also carried this mental load and never had the choice to just disassociate until they felt ready to be around their child. I’m not jealous of the ability to make that choice. As hard as it was, those early days were when I really fell in love with my daughter. I just wish there would have been more acknowledgement and reconciliation with such privilege in her writing.
What I did realize in reading this and could appreciate and relate to is that people don’t really talk about how hard and common that postpartum period is, and I wish more people did. Clearly it can come after anyone. But this book left me yearning for a story and a voice that actually could help more women feel seen, less alone — one that could evoke some real conversation and change.
November 20, 2024
I think this book is going to be very polarizing - it's extremely real, raw, and unfiltered. However, the author's circumstance is so removed from most people's realities. She is upper class, in NYC, and has access to more resources than the average person. Despite all that, I still found a lot of this book relatable. While I do not have kids, my friends have begun to expand their families, and the concept of motherhood is on my mind much more than it ever has been. Hoover's story helps shed the light on all the sides of motherhood, and touches on things that a lot of people just don't talk about. I really appreciated that her book did not attempt to sway me either way; it was truly just a focus on her experience. I appreciated the honestly and vulnerability about pregnancy, motherhood, mental health, and her marriage.
October 27, 2024
DNF - Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to finish this book. It had been described to me as being similar to Anna Marie Tendler’s memoir, which is why I was so excited to read The Motherload. I found Hoover unbearable and unrelatable. At one point early in the book, she described her desire to go out partying with friends of friends of friends as “socialism” based on an out-of-context quote. Ultimately I had to put this book down because I found the author so annoyingly disconnected from the world.
May 21, 2025
The author's life as explained in this book expresses every fear I've had about marriage and motherhood and why I'll never want either for myself. People have been trying to convince me to do both my entire life, which really pisses me off. Just because that's what they chose for themselves, they want to impose their need to validate their choices on me? No thank you. Just because that's the societal norm, I should do the same? No, actually I don't. There are other, very legitimate reasons for my choices which are no one else's business, and they are not all fear based. But where they are rooted in fear, this book includes a whole lot of them. I'm willing to bet that there are many other women who feel the same way.
Bravo to Hoover for getting help when she needed it and to her gynecologist for recognizing the need for her to get help. Therapy isn't an easy step, especially when you're so deep into your head that you can't see how badly you need it. A friend's gynecologist once realized she had thyroid cancer by visual exam. A great gynecologist can do more for you than just gynecological health. Mine got me to quit smoking. Never thought it was going to be as easy as it was, but once I let her talk me into the idea of it, and once she prescribed the Chantix, it was the easiest thing I ever did (at that point, I'd smoked on and off for at least 25 years!). Every woman should have a great gynecologist, and if you don't or think you can find a better one, then please go find one. As grateful as I am to mine for helping me stop smoking, I still had to let her go after being kept waiting way too many times because she was suddenly called in to deliver a baby and because when I asked her about menopause, she gave me a super crappy answer (she did my hysterectomy years before and told me not to worry about menopause since I don't have periods anymore anyway). I haven't found another one that I think is great, but I'm also not going to stop until I do. Every person deserves excellent healthcare.
I had to do something really awful after reading the book. I had to look up her husband. I saw his face and thought EW. Not because he's unattractive to look at - not my type, but that's all relative - but EW because of what he put her through. If you are going to bond yourself willingly for life to someone, then that person needs to be a full, willing, equal, and committed partner. Shame on him. Not up to me to forgive him, of course, but just because I can, because by the fact that I read this book, I was invited to, I judge him and won't forgive him. (I feel this way about every man who has ever made a woman they supposedly love above all else as if they were less than.)
Women bear the weight of the patriarchy in the most disgusting ways. The US government is doing everything it can to restrict our mobility, our choices, our mortality. We don't have to comply. We don't have to get married. We don't have to bear children. We don't have to settle for good enough or kind of good or ok enough or whatever else they try to convince us we should accept. We don't have to be cheated on. We don't have to accept abuse of any kind. We deserve as much as we want, and we don't have to do what they want. But one thing we have to do is talk about it so that all girls and women get the message that no matter how hard society/government pressures us to be a certain way, it is our choice to be however we want to be. We get to define our lives. And that's why I think this book is important. Hoover talks about all the unglamorous things about marriage and motherhood that isn't talked about enough.
Bravo to Hoover for getting help when she needed it and to her gynecologist for recognizing the need for her to get help. Therapy isn't an easy step, especially when you're so deep into your head that you can't see how badly you need it. A friend's gynecologist once realized she had thyroid cancer by visual exam. A great gynecologist can do more for you than just gynecological health. Mine got me to quit smoking. Never thought it was going to be as easy as it was, but once I let her talk me into the idea of it, and once she prescribed the Chantix, it was the easiest thing I ever did (at that point, I'd smoked on and off for at least 25 years!). Every woman should have a great gynecologist, and if you don't or think you can find a better one, then please go find one. As grateful as I am to mine for helping me stop smoking, I still had to let her go after being kept waiting way too many times because she was suddenly called in to deliver a baby and because when I asked her about menopause, she gave me a super crappy answer (she did my hysterectomy years before and told me not to worry about menopause since I don't have periods anymore anyway). I haven't found another one that I think is great, but I'm also not going to stop until I do. Every person deserves excellent healthcare.
I had to do something really awful after reading the book. I had to look up her husband. I saw his face and thought EW. Not because he's unattractive to look at - not my type, but that's all relative - but EW because of what he put her through. If you are going to bond yourself willingly for life to someone, then that person needs to be a full, willing, equal, and committed partner. Shame on him. Not up to me to forgive him, of course, but just because I can, because by the fact that I read this book, I was invited to, I judge him and won't forgive him. (I feel this way about every man who has ever made a woman they supposedly love above all else as if they were less than.)
Women bear the weight of the patriarchy in the most disgusting ways. The US government is doing everything it can to restrict our mobility, our choices, our mortality. We don't have to comply. We don't have to get married. We don't have to bear children. We don't have to settle for good enough or kind of good or ok enough or whatever else they try to convince us we should accept. We don't have to be cheated on. We don't have to accept abuse of any kind. We deserve as much as we want, and we don't have to do what they want. But one thing we have to do is talk about it so that all girls and women get the message that no matter how hard society/government pressures us to be a certain way, it is our choice to be however we want to be. We get to define our lives. And that's why I think this book is important. Hoover talks about all the unglamorous things about marriage and motherhood that isn't talked about enough.
April 9, 2025
Yall know the part where she speaks about her sisters stillbirth? She was never given consent to share that story. In fact, she had written an article speaking about her sisters stillbirth before the publication of this book. An article that her sister was not ok with. Her sister and her fought after the article was published over her sisters privacy being violated, and they went no contact. Just for Mrs. Nasty Sarah Hoover to yet again, share a story that wasnt hers to share, in her book.
Sarah if you read the goodreads reviews, you should be ashamed of yourself. Truly. Other reviewers have pointed out how out of touch you are due to your social class but not enough people have pointed out your disgusting invasion of privacy, and that is something that must be known.
Sarah if you read the goodreads reviews, you should be ashamed of yourself. Truly. Other reviewers have pointed out how out of touch you are due to your social class but not enough people have pointed out your disgusting invasion of privacy, and that is something that must be known.
January 5, 2025
Oh. What a disappointment. This was one of my most anticipated books, and it was disheartening and concerning.
I was hoping for an exploration of post-partum depression. And maybe this has pieces of that, but it’s mostly overshadowed by the narrators very privileged, rich, unrelatable, and, frankly, demoralizing life. It is so far removed from any kind of world I’m used to seeing, and it mostly felt like a take on a wealthy, elitist kind of motherhood that I have never encountered or witnessed, but now feel very saddened by.
It’s genuinely very difficult to feel understanding and sympathy for the narrator when she has so, so many resources at her hands, ones that other mothers in much less privileged cases could only hope of receiving. Instead, we see her casual substance abuse and easy going lifestyle play out while her son is raised by a nanny. It is so ridiculously NYC upper class that any empathy I could’ve had for her vanished almost instantly. I felt so dismayed seeing her child be raised by someone else, and her lack of prioritization for him was concerning, PPD aside.
I really do feel for mothers, especially new mothers, and the strife and weight that comes with pregnancy, giving birth, and then raising that child. I know it’s a beyond complicated process. That’s why I was inclined to read this. But I couldn’t find it in me to feel for someone who, although is suffering through PPD, gets to literally check out from motherhood because of her wealth and privilege and have someone else raise their child while they essentially continue to live the same carefree life as before, even with PPD. It was so shallow, so self serving, and it was difficult for me to find substance within the narrators exploration of motherhood. There’s also no self awareness for her privilege and wealth, and the resources that it gives her as someone struggling with PPD, which only further showed me how out of touch she is with the difficulties that other mothers with the same illness may face.
I feel harsh saying this, but I do think there are some people who want kids just to have kids, just for the “accessory” of it all, but they do not actually want to be mothers or parents. It’s a harsh take, and I won’t fully attach it to someone I don’t know. But that’s just a thought that kept coming to my mind as I read through this.
Again, I really wished I could have found greater meaning in this. I wish I could have had more empathy for the narrator. But she comes from such a privileged, rich, and entitled world that I can’t find anything but concern and rejection in me for the content in this book. Whatever version of motherhood this is, I’m saddened and discouraged by it because it does not feel like motherhood at all, but something much, much more empty.
(And for those comparing this to Anna Marie Tendler’s memoir, I disagree! As I loved that and found so much meaning and relatable insights in it.)
I was hoping for an exploration of post-partum depression. And maybe this has pieces of that, but it’s mostly overshadowed by the narrators very privileged, rich, unrelatable, and, frankly, demoralizing life. It is so far removed from any kind of world I’m used to seeing, and it mostly felt like a take on a wealthy, elitist kind of motherhood that I have never encountered or witnessed, but now feel very saddened by.
It’s genuinely very difficult to feel understanding and sympathy for the narrator when she has so, so many resources at her hands, ones that other mothers in much less privileged cases could only hope of receiving. Instead, we see her casual substance abuse and easy going lifestyle play out while her son is raised by a nanny. It is so ridiculously NYC upper class that any empathy I could’ve had for her vanished almost instantly. I felt so dismayed seeing her child be raised by someone else, and her lack of prioritization for him was concerning, PPD aside.
I really do feel for mothers, especially new mothers, and the strife and weight that comes with pregnancy, giving birth, and then raising that child. I know it’s a beyond complicated process. That’s why I was inclined to read this. But I couldn’t find it in me to feel for someone who, although is suffering through PPD, gets to literally check out from motherhood because of her wealth and privilege and have someone else raise their child while they essentially continue to live the same carefree life as before, even with PPD. It was so shallow, so self serving, and it was difficult for me to find substance within the narrators exploration of motherhood. There’s also no self awareness for her privilege and wealth, and the resources that it gives her as someone struggling with PPD, which only further showed me how out of touch she is with the difficulties that other mothers with the same illness may face.
I feel harsh saying this, but I do think there are some people who want kids just to have kids, just for the “accessory” of it all, but they do not actually want to be mothers or parents. It’s a harsh take, and I won’t fully attach it to someone I don’t know. But that’s just a thought that kept coming to my mind as I read through this.
Again, I really wished I could have found greater meaning in this. I wish I could have had more empathy for the narrator. But she comes from such a privileged, rich, and entitled world that I can’t find anything but concern and rejection in me for the content in this book. Whatever version of motherhood this is, I’m saddened and discouraged by it because it does not feel like motherhood at all, but something much, much more empty.
(And for those comparing this to Anna Marie Tendler’s memoir, I disagree! As I loved that and found so much meaning and relatable insights in it.)
January 2, 2025
I absolutely love the cover of this book, but unfortunately hated what lie inside. The Motherload: Episodes from the Brink of Motherhood is a memoir that I found hard to read and even harder to relate to. This is not a book I would recommend (to anyone?) as it felt so very self-serving. Perhaps ‘An Antithesis to Motherhood’ would have been a more apt title.
Sara Hoover’s memoir centers in the art world of New York City. Self-obsessed and drug abusing, Hoover wants to encourage an unconventional portrait of motherhood. No one’s perfect, right? She details meeting her successful artist husband and her idolization of his status in the art world. She portrays herself as very insecure and having no real goals in life outside of hedonistic pleasures. Once her son is born, Hoover becomes unmoored as I suspect she never really envisioned life with the realities of having a child.
As a mother that has worked really hard to identify my values and live according to those values, I found this book hard to stomach. I didn’t find it endearing or relatable, but more so sad and disheartening. I was pretty appalled to look Hoover up after reading this to see that she has a second child – after outsourcing most parent-related duties of her first child and having a pretty uninvolved husband. Although I like to remember that everyone is different and we need different people to make the world go round, this kind of lifestyle and subsequent “acceptance” and praise of not prioritizing your child feels like a disservice to women and mothers alike. There is a level of privilege spoken of that is unprecedented to most mothers. I believe this book will likely be highly polarizing in its reviews.
Thank you to NetGalley, Simon Element, S&S/Simon Element, and the author Sarah Hoover for an ARC of The Motherload in exchange for an honest review.
Sara Hoover’s memoir centers in the art world of New York City. Self-obsessed and drug abusing, Hoover wants to encourage an unconventional portrait of motherhood. No one’s perfect, right? She details meeting her successful artist husband and her idolization of his status in the art world. She portrays herself as very insecure and having no real goals in life outside of hedonistic pleasures. Once her son is born, Hoover becomes unmoored as I suspect she never really envisioned life with the realities of having a child.
As a mother that has worked really hard to identify my values and live according to those values, I found this book hard to stomach. I didn’t find it endearing or relatable, but more so sad and disheartening. I was pretty appalled to look Hoover up after reading this to see that she has a second child – after outsourcing most parent-related duties of her first child and having a pretty uninvolved husband. Although I like to remember that everyone is different and we need different people to make the world go round, this kind of lifestyle and subsequent “acceptance” and praise of not prioritizing your child feels like a disservice to women and mothers alike. There is a level of privilege spoken of that is unprecedented to most mothers. I believe this book will likely be highly polarizing in its reviews.
Thank you to NetGalley, Simon Element, S&S/Simon Element, and the author Sarah Hoover for an ARC of The Motherload in exchange for an honest review.
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January 5, 2025This book is very hard to review because on one hand, this portrait of postpartum depression is so raw and detailed and important, but on the other hand, it’s hard to know who to recommend this book to.
I can already see where Sarah is going to be a polarizing figure. She is in the art world with a renowned artist husband, is very wealthy, and is able to afford many luxuries many mothers probably wish they could have (full-time live in nanny, for one). That said, I think this goes to show how undiscriminating the struggle of postpartum mental health is: it comes for anyone. And the conversations she has in the Motherload around the too-standardized mental health quizzes that are administered to mothers, and the importance of having a conscious and consent-based care team are SO important. Post-natal care for parents is such a joke, and I think that these are topics that need to be brought to the surface more often.
Hoover is a compelling writer, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so dragged down emotionally while reading a memoir and I was deeply affected by it. This is partially why I have a hard time knowing who to recommend this to. Being emotionally impacted is a sign of very effective writing, but it was also triggering AF for me, even as a mother who didn’t have the struggles Sarah experienced in this book. It was relieving to see her come out on the other side, but I could see this book being very triggering for parents who are trying to conceive, are pregnant, or in the trenches of motherhood. That said, I’m sure there are people out there who would feel very validated and less alone by reading her experience.
I am so glad I buddy read this with a friend because there is so much to unpack and so many great conversations that were sparked from reading this. But also: tread carefully.
*i received a free review copy from the publisher. Thank you!*
I can already see where Sarah is going to be a polarizing figure. She is in the art world with a renowned artist husband, is very wealthy, and is able to afford many luxuries many mothers probably wish they could have (full-time live in nanny, for one). That said, I think this goes to show how undiscriminating the struggle of postpartum mental health is: it comes for anyone. And the conversations she has in the Motherload around the too-standardized mental health quizzes that are administered to mothers, and the importance of having a conscious and consent-based care team are SO important. Post-natal care for parents is such a joke, and I think that these are topics that need to be brought to the surface more often.
Hoover is a compelling writer, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so dragged down emotionally while reading a memoir and I was deeply affected by it. This is partially why I have a hard time knowing who to recommend this to. Being emotionally impacted is a sign of very effective writing, but it was also triggering AF for me, even as a mother who didn’t have the struggles Sarah experienced in this book. It was relieving to see her come out on the other side, but I could see this book being very triggering for parents who are trying to conceive, are pregnant, or in the trenches of motherhood. That said, I’m sure there are people out there who would feel very validated and less alone by reading her experience.
I am so glad I buddy read this with a friend because there is so much to unpack and so many great conversations that were sparked from reading this. But also: tread carefully.
*i received a free review copy from the publisher. Thank you!*
January 29, 2025
I’m sure there is a way to feel empathy for someone who has a full-time, live-in nanny and whose baby sleeps from 7pm-7am since he was three months old but this book does not accomplish it.
January 21, 2025
I could not get through this. I just had my second child and thought this would be a fitting companion in the earlier postpartum days. I’ve had postpartum depression and anxiety as well as pre and post natal psychosis. I started reading this while reading another book called song spirals, sharing women’s wisdom through song lines. What a stark contrast in motherhood as a cultural passage. This book is so sad. I’m sad for her baby, I’m sad for this author.
April 15, 2025
Author is an absolute horrible person. She never got her sister’s permission to include the stillbirth in the book. Who needs enemies when you’ve got a sister like this?
January 9, 2025
If you're interested in this book for the exploration and examination of one woman's post-partum depression, just know that examination (if it comes) will come from a ridiculously privileged woman who cannot write in a way to connect with the average person. I DNFed this book ridiculously early because the privilege was just so exhausting that I couldn't ignore it. This woman admits she was raised in an upper class family, and she ends up marrying a very successful artist. The little bit I read about her experience with motherhood showed that she had the privilege of being able to put her motherhood aside through a live-in nanny in exchange for drug use. I was interested in this book because I have a true fear of becoming a mother and learning I do not like it, and I know that Hoover would not be able to give me any insight into what my own possible experience would be like if that were the case. I am glad I realized this early on so I could put this aside and not waste my time.
The writing is fine, the substance is just exhausting to read.
Thank you to Simon Element and Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
The writing is fine, the substance is just exhausting to read.
Thank you to Simon Element and Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
February 5, 2025
Her privilege is mind boggling. Her reality is so far removed from most women. But her account of (post partum) depression and being a woman in the patriarchy is deeply relatable.
I had to drag myself through the first quarter. The split between feeling deterred by her entitlement and raw trauma, makes it a hard start to the story. And it’s not like she is very likeable throughout the story. I think it’s an impactful book though.
I had to drag myself through the first quarter. The split between feeling deterred by her entitlement and raw trauma, makes it a hard start to the story. And it’s not like she is very likeable throughout the story. I think it’s an impactful book though.
January 21, 2025
okay listen, rich people are cheesy…they have no idea how cheesy they are.
they don’t realize telling the average american about finding the best martini bar and hiring a masseuse at their expensive hotel after having a miscarriage (also while making a quip about how marilyn monroe was once lounging at the same pool she’s miscarriaging into a diaper at) is not only extremely unrelatable but also cheugy.
that being said, it’s not the authors job to make her life relatable to the average american because she isn’t an average american. she was born into a rich family and married rich and she’s upfront about this from the beginning, and honestly i’m a little frustrated at the negative reviews absolutely flaming her and dismissing her whole experience bc of this!
just because she’s a privileged rich girl doesn’t mean she can’t experience trauma, it’s not a contest!!
personally i found Hoover’s medical experience absolutely horrific and something ANY young woman should know can happen to them because I had never heard about the process of forced water breaking in a hospital and i am forever thankful to her for describing her horrible experience so that i now know to protect myself from that in the future, if i should be so unlucky during my pregnancy.
yes, for 99% of american women, a postpartum depression as bad as Hoover’s would likely be far more intense without the help of a hired full time nanny, an expensive NYC apartment, and endless luxury vacations, but as a woman who’s mother died before i had the opportunity to ask about her experience during pregnancy, i appreciate Hoover’s candidness and willingness to expose the absolute rock bottom of her own pregnancy and her marriage. these are the things i need to know and answer questions i wouldn’t even know i needed to ask!
i understand that there are more harrowing experiences from women far less privileged than Hoover (many of whom we will probably never hear from because they don’t have the variety of connections that come from living in a big city and having wealthy friends) but i still found a lot of merit in her story
they don’t realize telling the average american about finding the best martini bar and hiring a masseuse at their expensive hotel after having a miscarriage (also while making a quip about how marilyn monroe was once lounging at the same pool she’s miscarriaging into a diaper at) is not only extremely unrelatable but also cheugy.
that being said, it’s not the authors job to make her life relatable to the average american because she isn’t an average american. she was born into a rich family and married rich and she’s upfront about this from the beginning, and honestly i’m a little frustrated at the negative reviews absolutely flaming her and dismissing her whole experience bc of this!
just because she’s a privileged rich girl doesn’t mean she can’t experience trauma, it’s not a contest!!
personally i found Hoover’s medical experience absolutely horrific and something ANY young woman should know can happen to them because I had never heard about the process of forced water breaking in a hospital and i am forever thankful to her for describing her horrible experience so that i now know to protect myself from that in the future, if i should be so unlucky during my pregnancy.
yes, for 99% of american women, a postpartum depression as bad as Hoover’s would likely be far more intense without the help of a hired full time nanny, an expensive NYC apartment, and endless luxury vacations, but as a woman who’s mother died before i had the opportunity to ask about her experience during pregnancy, i appreciate Hoover’s candidness and willingness to expose the absolute rock bottom of her own pregnancy and her marriage. these are the things i need to know and answer questions i wouldn’t even know i needed to ask!
i understand that there are more harrowing experiences from women far less privileged than Hoover (many of whom we will probably never hear from because they don’t have the variety of connections that come from living in a big city and having wealthy friends) but i still found a lot of merit in her story
February 3, 2025
The author is insufferable, self serving, and I found the content entirely unrelatable.
March 7, 2025
Reading this book was depressing. Such a self-centered, spoiled woman. I feel sorry for the husband.
December 26, 2024
The Motherload is a collection of stories about motherhood, specifically postpartum depression. It's been compared to Anna Marie Tendler's Men Have Called Her Crazy, and there are definitely similarities.
However, The Motherload sometimes feels a bit too privileged for my taste. It can be hard to relate to the narrator when their experiences seem so far removed from everyday life. The narrator is unlikeable and distant. Her sarcastic tone might work for some people but it really turned me off of this book.
That said, the writing is good, and some people will definitely connect with it.
I'd recommend it if:
1) You loved "Men Have Called Her Crazy"
2) You're curious about the lives of wealthy mothers
**I received an ARC of The Motherload in exchange for a fair and honest review.**
However, The Motherload sometimes feels a bit too privileged for my taste. It can be hard to relate to the narrator when their experiences seem so far removed from everyday life. The narrator is unlikeable and distant. Her sarcastic tone might work for some people but it really turned me off of this book.
That said, the writing is good, and some people will definitely connect with it.
I'd recommend it if:
1) You loved "Men Have Called Her Crazy"
2) You're curious about the lives of wealthy mothers
**I received an ARC of The Motherload in exchange for a fair and honest review.**
February 6, 2025
I’ve heard people describe grief as individual and universal. Everyone’s experience with loss is unique, but there is a collective understanding about the loss of a loved one.
I feel the exact same can be said about motherhood or child bearing. Any one that has been through the whole cycle of conception through child birth (or even any part of the process as a mother or woman in any part of the journey) can relate to one another on some or many levels.
The author of this book is very different from myself. She is much younger than I, has a child in a different, more emotionally evolved era; she lives in a major city away from her parents; she is married to an older man; she lives a very different lifestyle. But, I was nodding along to many parts of the book. Conversely, there were times throughout the book, when I rolled my eyes with dismay and shock at her lifestyle choices, sometimes entitled rants, and occasional vapid attitude towards motherhood. Then, at another turn, after I rolled my eyes, there were many moments of empathy and feelings of solidarity, because every mother’s journey from girlhood as a daughter to adulthood as potential child-bearer is relatable no matter the socio-economic, age, or emotional differences. While aghast at many parts of the book, I very much enjoyed Sara Hoover’s journey as not only a mother and wife, but as a woman trying to feel less lonely with herself while surrounded by family, moving towards self-acceptance, and sharing her raw honesty about her life as a daughter, wife, woman, and mother.
The audiobook was read by the author which provided extra insight into her writing as she narrates with slightly more enunciation or flair than a one-dimensional read on paper might provide. Great listen! p.s. Martha Hoover is an iconic Hoosier legend founding and expanding the Cafe Patachou brand. This is the daughter of Martha (which, of course, I didn’t fully put together until Chapter 7-8–a little slow, I must admit), but so cool to read a candid exploration of Sara’s journey into womanhood and motherhood.
I feel the exact same can be said about motherhood or child bearing. Any one that has been through the whole cycle of conception through child birth (or even any part of the process as a mother or woman in any part of the journey) can relate to one another on some or many levels.
The author of this book is very different from myself. She is much younger than I, has a child in a different, more emotionally evolved era; she lives in a major city away from her parents; she is married to an older man; she lives a very different lifestyle. But, I was nodding along to many parts of the book. Conversely, there were times throughout the book, when I rolled my eyes with dismay and shock at her lifestyle choices, sometimes entitled rants, and occasional vapid attitude towards motherhood. Then, at another turn, after I rolled my eyes, there were many moments of empathy and feelings of solidarity, because every mother’s journey from girlhood as a daughter to adulthood as potential child-bearer is relatable no matter the socio-economic, age, or emotional differences. While aghast at many parts of the book, I very much enjoyed Sara Hoover’s journey as not only a mother and wife, but as a woman trying to feel less lonely with herself while surrounded by family, moving towards self-acceptance, and sharing her raw honesty about her life as a daughter, wife, woman, and mother.
The audiobook was read by the author which provided extra insight into her writing as she narrates with slightly more enunciation or flair than a one-dimensional read on paper might provide. Great listen! p.s. Martha Hoover is an iconic Hoosier legend founding and expanding the Cafe Patachou brand. This is the daughter of Martha (which, of course, I didn’t fully put together until Chapter 7-8–a little slow, I must admit), but so cool to read a candid exploration of Sara’s journey into womanhood and motherhood.
November 10, 2024
Not every book is meant for every person, after the first two chapters I knew that we didn’t have the same path nor experiences in life. While at times I was sympathetic to Sarah’s take on motherhood, I don’t feel the average woman can sympathize.
She is from an upper class system with so much more at her disposal of healthcare that she took for granted. While many mothers struggle with post partum depression they often can not even see a therapist much less get the medication necessary…. Also doing on their own rather than being able to wallow and have a full time nanny take care of your baby?
I am not a person who likes to DNF a book but this was one at many times made me want to just stop. As I inched closer to the end of the book, the last two chapters were roughly 2 hours of reading…. As a person who loathes long chapters this felt like extra torture to finish this book that already felt like it was written to make me feel better about the misgivings of motherhood just to show me how a privileged woman and socialite felt she needed a prize for figuring out she needed medication.
She is from an upper class system with so much more at her disposal of healthcare that she took for granted. While many mothers struggle with post partum depression they often can not even see a therapist much less get the medication necessary…. Also doing on their own rather than being able to wallow and have a full time nanny take care of your baby?
I am not a person who likes to DNF a book but this was one at many times made me want to just stop. As I inched closer to the end of the book, the last two chapters were roughly 2 hours of reading…. As a person who loathes long chapters this felt like extra torture to finish this book that already felt like it was written to make me feel better about the misgivings of motherhood just to show me how a privileged woman and socialite felt she needed a prize for figuring out she needed medication.
February 28, 2025
This book was not what I anticipated. Luckily, I share none of Sarah’s experiences with marriage or early motherhood. I did appreciate her honesty about depression and sexual assault but everything else was probably better left unpublished.
February 16, 2025
This memoir shook me to my core. I am obsessed with fiction and nonfiction about motherhood. The Motherload is the most brutally honest account of pregnancy, postpartum depression, and early years of child-rearing I have ever encountered.
Sarah Hoover is a white, blonde, immensely privileged young woman who falls in love with legendary artist, Tom Sachs. Anyone reading this needs to know these demographics before starting this book. Hoover consistently acknowledges her privilege, which only strengthened the argument that no amount of wealth can protect women from the physical and emotional trauma of giving birth. I found it powerful that despite not having to physically care for her child nearly the same amount of time as most mothers of less financial means, Hoover still found herself battling crippling depression paired with intense rage towards her husband.
The Motherload is an ode to mental health awareness, therapy, and medication. It allows women to feel ok about not being obsessed with their child immediately after expelling them from their womb, and even feeling resentment towards them and the partner who helped bring them into the world. It examines just how little we expect of men and how their lack of involvement, whether deliberate or accidental, creates fractures in any relationship. Finally, it takes into consideration a woman’s own relationship with her working mother and how her childhood and understanding of her mother’s choices informed how she set boundaries with her child’s grandmother.
During most of my reading, I fully expected my desire to have a child to stay the same or decrease, but the moments when Hoover recalls first falling in love with her child were so moving and tender they almost outweighed the horrors of her first years as a mother and left me at about the same place I started in my own motherhood exploration.
When I look back and think about my own reaction to impending motherhood, I can’t help but see that my extreme distress was informed by anxiety that I wouldn’t be able to be a mother and be happy at the same time.
We are parasites to our mothers to begin with, dependent on them for existence and for connection. But at some point, to move the life cycle forward, a mother can no longer be her child’s host. And to make myself a better mother, I needed the space I was spending on criticizing her choices. I needed to fill it up with love and acceptance, for Guy and for all the future little guys.
the burden of a mother is to hold humanity’s pain and fear as our own
Sarah Hoover is a white, blonde, immensely privileged young woman who falls in love with legendary artist, Tom Sachs. Anyone reading this needs to know these demographics before starting this book. Hoover consistently acknowledges her privilege, which only strengthened the argument that no amount of wealth can protect women from the physical and emotional trauma of giving birth. I found it powerful that despite not having to physically care for her child nearly the same amount of time as most mothers of less financial means, Hoover still found herself battling crippling depression paired with intense rage towards her husband.
The Motherload is an ode to mental health awareness, therapy, and medication. It allows women to feel ok about not being obsessed with their child immediately after expelling them from their womb, and even feeling resentment towards them and the partner who helped bring them into the world. It examines just how little we expect of men and how their lack of involvement, whether deliberate or accidental, creates fractures in any relationship. Finally, it takes into consideration a woman’s own relationship with her working mother and how her childhood and understanding of her mother’s choices informed how she set boundaries with her child’s grandmother.
During most of my reading, I fully expected my desire to have a child to stay the same or decrease, but the moments when Hoover recalls first falling in love with her child were so moving and tender they almost outweighed the horrors of her first years as a mother and left me at about the same place I started in my own motherhood exploration.
When I look back and think about my own reaction to impending motherhood, I can’t help but see that my extreme distress was informed by anxiety that I wouldn’t be able to be a mother and be happy at the same time.
We are parasites to our mothers to begin with, dependent on them for existence and for connection. But at some point, to move the life cycle forward, a mother can no longer be her child’s host. And to make myself a better mother, I needed the space I was spending on criticizing her choices. I needed to fill it up with love and acceptance, for Guy and for all the future little guys.
the burden of a mother is to hold humanity’s pain and fear as our own
Read
January 14, 2025Thanks to Simon & Schuster, Simon Element, and Netgalley for gifting me an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review!
WOOF. This memoir was both hard to get through and hard to put down. Sarah Hoover paints such a brutally honest and raw depiction of her year-long struggle with Postpartum Depression and Psychosis, and it was a really compelling and heartstring-tugging read.
I rarely assign a star rating to the memoirs that I read - I hate sorting someone else’s most vulnerable moments into such a subjective rating. Instead, I’ll break this down into what I loved and what I didn’t:
LOVED
* Sarah’s honestly around not being the average mother - she is wealthy and has privileges afforded to her that most do not (ex. A live-in nanny, lavish tropical vacations, extended stays at the Chateau Marmont bungalow in LA).
* Her vulnerability around EXACTLY what she was feeling (this could be a trigger for people who’ve experienced PPMDs, read with caution) from wanting her husband to die to just how numb she felt about her son for the first year.
* Her ability to suck you into her narrative. Throughout this read, I really felt like I was there with her in bed, spiraling about the various facets of motherhood and marriage. Her writing is extremely compelling and even though the material was heavy, I was hardly able to put it down.
* The focus on the relationship with her mother and how it has shaped her view on femininity and motherhood. This hit me so hard and I highlighted a lot of passages about her relationship with her mom.
* Her dive into how her birth trauma and her past sexual trauma were connected and her healing through that realization.
* The art history! I had so much fun looking up the art she was referencing - it made the things she was experiencing feel so much more real.
* Her honesty in seeing her faults and wrongdoings, even when in the midst of psychosis.
DIDN’T LOVE
* Her husband. Full stop. The reveal about their marriage working out after the plane confrontation was shocking, as was finding out they’re still together and have a second child. Not to mention the allegations against him.
* Her friends. I wanted to throw my Kindle across the room when they basically talked her into taking her husband back. I cannot imagine a single friend of mine doing or saying what they did if I was in her situation.
* The way that the Medical Industrial Complex failed Sarah. This was perhaps the hardest aspect of the book to read, and with good reason! She was repeatedly gaslit and traumatized by her medical providers. It hurt even more to read this as a doula, knowing how different her pregnancy, birth, and postpartum could’ve been if she had a doula there to educate and support her. I was really glad to see her rally so hard for better reproductive care.
If you are interested in memoirs about difficult postpartum experiences, I would recommend this book to you, but with caution. Take care of yourself while reading.
WOOF. This memoir was both hard to get through and hard to put down. Sarah Hoover paints such a brutally honest and raw depiction of her year-long struggle with Postpartum Depression and Psychosis, and it was a really compelling and heartstring-tugging read.
I rarely assign a star rating to the memoirs that I read - I hate sorting someone else’s most vulnerable moments into such a subjective rating. Instead, I’ll break this down into what I loved and what I didn’t:
LOVED
* Sarah’s honestly around not being the average mother - she is wealthy and has privileges afforded to her that most do not (ex. A live-in nanny, lavish tropical vacations, extended stays at the Chateau Marmont bungalow in LA).
* Her vulnerability around EXACTLY what she was feeling (this could be a trigger for people who’ve experienced PPMDs, read with caution) from wanting her husband to die to just how numb she felt about her son for the first year.
* Her ability to suck you into her narrative. Throughout this read, I really felt like I was there with her in bed, spiraling about the various facets of motherhood and marriage. Her writing is extremely compelling and even though the material was heavy, I was hardly able to put it down.
* The focus on the relationship with her mother and how it has shaped her view on femininity and motherhood. This hit me so hard and I highlighted a lot of passages about her relationship with her mom.
* Her dive into how her birth trauma and her past sexual trauma were connected and her healing through that realization.
* The art history! I had so much fun looking up the art she was referencing - it made the things she was experiencing feel so much more real.
* Her honesty in seeing her faults and wrongdoings, even when in the midst of psychosis.
DIDN’T LOVE
* Her husband. Full stop. The reveal about their marriage working out after the plane confrontation was shocking, as was finding out they’re still together and have a second child. Not to mention the allegations against him.
* Her friends. I wanted to throw my Kindle across the room when they basically talked her into taking her husband back. I cannot imagine a single friend of mine doing or saying what they did if I was in her situation.
* The way that the Medical Industrial Complex failed Sarah. This was perhaps the hardest aspect of the book to read, and with good reason! She was repeatedly gaslit and traumatized by her medical providers. It hurt even more to read this as a doula, knowing how different her pregnancy, birth, and postpartum could’ve been if she had a doula there to educate and support her. I was really glad to see her rally so hard for better reproductive care.
If you are interested in memoirs about difficult postpartum experiences, I would recommend this book to you, but with caution. Take care of yourself while reading.
January 14, 2025
Motherload opens with Hoover planning a baby shower at the Chateau Marmont (natch) and complaining that she felt “nothing for this baby who’d come out of my body. I didn’t want to change diapers and pretend I thought that baby stuff was cute. I had no interest in sitting in Mommy-and-Me music classes or play groups.” Hoover then goes back in time to her initial encounter with the “New York famous” artist whom she met when she answered the phone at a gallery where she worked as a salesperson and artist liaison. The “mythological” artist, Tom Sachs, finds Hoover “sassy,” and she recites with raw honesty and self-deprecating humor the friend frenzy over their early dates, the excitement and instability of a new relationship, and a marriage six years later when she was twenty-eight and “rife with insecurity, having no detailed vision for my future, no calling to fulfill or idea of who I really was.”
Hoover’s memoir is a retread of the numerous books and films that examine how motherhood changes a woman physically and emotionally. But, Hoover does not experience the sleepless nights, the repetitive routines, or the exhaustion that bedevils most new mothers. Instead, Hoover is able to hire a full-time nanny and only needs to allot a “mandated” thirty minutes of playtime with the infant she found “physically heinous” a few times a day. She enjoys fresh highlights, manicures and pedicures, workouts, acupuncture, massages, facials and a luxury trip to Bali. She hires a second life coach, a hypnotherapist, and someone to organize her closets. While her husband lacks accountability, and relies upon dim platitudes, Hoover had the financial resources to outsource the repetitive tasks that sap the sanity of most new mothers.
I think that this memoir will be polarizing for many who read it, but it might be helpful for those new mothers who feel shame for not immediately falling in love with their infant and for feeling rage and despair. Thank you S&S/Simon Element and Net Galley for an advanced copy of this honest and often funny memoir.
Hoover’s memoir is a retread of the numerous books and films that examine how motherhood changes a woman physically and emotionally. But, Hoover does not experience the sleepless nights, the repetitive routines, or the exhaustion that bedevils most new mothers. Instead, Hoover is able to hire a full-time nanny and only needs to allot a “mandated” thirty minutes of playtime with the infant she found “physically heinous” a few times a day. She enjoys fresh highlights, manicures and pedicures, workouts, acupuncture, massages, facials and a luxury trip to Bali. She hires a second life coach, a hypnotherapist, and someone to organize her closets. While her husband lacks accountability, and relies upon dim platitudes, Hoover had the financial resources to outsource the repetitive tasks that sap the sanity of most new mothers.
I think that this memoir will be polarizing for many who read it, but it might be helpful for those new mothers who feel shame for not immediately falling in love with their infant and for feeling rage and despair. Thank you S&S/Simon Element and Net Galley for an advanced copy of this honest and often funny memoir.
January 22, 2025
This funny memoir is a brilliant and unapologetic exploration of the messy, complicated, and often contradictory experience of new motherhood. With wit and sharp humor, the author completely upends the conventional narrative surrounding motherhood, offering a candid portrayal of what it’s really like to navigate the tumultuous waves of postpartum depression, identity shifts, and the overwhelming pressures of being a new parent.
This book feels like a lifeline for women trying to reconcile who they were before and after they had kids. But despite the heavy themes of mental health and personal conflict, the memoir is also filled with moments of unexpected joy. The author’s humor serves as a lifeline as she reflects on the small yet profound pleasures of motherhood. It offers an honest, refreshing, and hilarious perspective that provides much-needed validation and understanding for anyone navigating the complexities of parenthood.
To listen to my interview with the author, go to my podcast at:
This book feels like a lifeline for women trying to reconcile who they were before and after they had kids. But despite the heavy themes of mental health and personal conflict, the memoir is also filled with moments of unexpected joy. The author’s humor serves as a lifeline as she reflects on the small yet profound pleasures of motherhood. It offers an honest, refreshing, and hilarious perspective that provides much-needed validation and understanding for anyone navigating the complexities of parenthood.
To listen to my interview with the author, go to my podcast at:
January 23, 2025
3.5 stars. I’ll start by saying I really admire Sarah’s raw honesty in her account of being a first-time mother. Despite other reviews of this, I think she’s aware of how her account will be polarizing or even despicable to some readers. On the other hand, I think her raw honesty will help a lot of women who had similar experiences to her own, or were generally let down by the feeling of new motherhood that they thought would be magical, but instead felt isolating and dissociative.
That being said — I was kind of like “…?” when she talked about not ever feeling maternal and not being sure if she wanted kids, and then… just having a baby pretty flippantly… with a husband that she suspected was cheating on her for years, and that she knew would always put himself and his work above anything else. Maybe don’t have kids then? Maybe leave your husband who sounds so insufferable and manipulative? Yikes.
End of the day: I appreciated the honesty above all else.
That being said — I was kind of like “…?” when she talked about not ever feeling maternal and not being sure if she wanted kids, and then… just having a baby pretty flippantly… with a husband that she suspected was cheating on her for years, and that she knew would always put himself and his work above anything else. Maybe don’t have kids then? Maybe leave your husband who sounds so insufferable and manipulative? Yikes.
End of the day: I appreciated the honesty above all else.
March 3, 2025
I’m sorry but her husband is kind of the worst. Big reminder to never marry an artist. (Audiobook)
January 28, 2025
This was the type of memoir I love! Really well done on a topic not talked about enough plus so many art references throughout.
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January 26, 2025do you think this book breaks the heart of everyone who wants to become a mother, or everyone who is a mother, or everyone who has a mother? all of the above? this is the depiction of female rage i needed. the way she writes about her own mother's imperfections broke my heart and the way she writes about how her dad faithfully loving her mom makes me want to cry. simultaneously a memoir, a warning sign, a salvation story, a guide to motherhood. this was a roller coaster. this is my new favourite book.
April 15, 2025
Desperately needs to touch grass
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