Waiting

Considering my field of work as a childbirth educator, it is difficult for me not to liken this whole book process to the gestation of a pregnancy. That being said, I'm glad women are not like elephants, and that our pregnancies do NOT last over two years, as this book project has for me. Interestingly enough, I began work on the book while pregnant with Gabriel--playing the waiting game during ten weeks of bed rest, and two weeks of prodromal early labor. My laptop became my refuge as I hunkered down in my room, on the couch, or on the lounge chair on the front porch. Before I knew it, the seed of a memoir had germinated, and I was off and running.

I spoke with my dear friend, Liz, this morning. The gal I visited in Las Vegas a couple weeks ago. She is nearing her 38th week of pregnancy, and also playing the waiting game. As she and I both near our magnanimous birth experiences -- hers,the birth of her first child; mine, the birth of this book...we continue to support and stoke each other's courage, perseverance, and...patience.

As a woman who has endured pregnancy, labor and delivery three times--as well as one who witnesses this process again and again in the Lamaze class students I teach--I remember all too well the gradually building anxiety, impatience and excitement as the countdown to one's due date hastens. At some point, most women can hardly restrain themselves against the anticipation of labor. When is this baby going to be born???

Now, less than a month away from the launch of this, my first book, I recognize that familiar anxiety and impatience as the countdown to the book release hastens. Can't the final editing and formatting go any faster? What will the actual book-in-hand look like? What will it feel like? Will others love it as much as I do?

The process of pregnancy is such a labor of love, as is the birth of a child (thus, the term labor). And likewise for me with this book, the weaving of words and paragraphs, one or two pages at a time (often late at night, during nap times, or at Wild Joe's coffee shop on early Saturday mornings) was, and continues to be a labor of love.

The publication of this book (public-ation) is not about becoming rich and famous. I know my chances of that are about 1 in a million (a trillion?). I'm not looking to get on Oprah (although, I wouldn't turn an invite down), or the early morning talk show circuit. I just want to share my story. I want other women like myself who struggle through the early years of motherhood to know they're not alone. I want generations of mothers who have gone before me, and those yet to come, to realize that today's moms face unique challenges that are complicated by careers, the medical industry, stoicism, and our fast paced culture. And I want the men and women who bother to read this book to ultimately draw the same conclusion that I have: It's all worth it-- the headaches, the heart aches, and the laborious nature of parenting. That the love a mother (or father) has for their child is incredibly healing and inspiring. That the wait is well worth their while.

So, as Liz awaits the next series of contractions that just might herald "the real thing", and I await the fitting together of the final pieces of the puzzle called book publishing, we both are able to embrace the maddening, trying value of letting our birth processes unfold in due time.