This is terribly relatable. I type from my phone, sprawled on the bed, baby asleep and barely touching me with one finger and one toe. I dare not move lest that finger or toe lose contact and result in my losing this temporary state of quiet.
I learned I was pregnant months after publishing my first book and happily dreamed of one day settling her into a sling or wrap and letting her watch me write. That beautiful dream has come true. It is not always picture-perfect, but I knew to expect that.
I expected the sleepless nights. I expected the mysterious tears. I expected the interrupted schedule.
I didn’t expect the motivation and inspiration to blossom quite so dramatically. I didn’t expect that when she slept and I pounced on the moment of quiet that I would feel so driven to create. I didn’t expect to be so excited to show my girl what striving to succeed looks like.
I’m so glad I didn’t wait to become a mother. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, she comes first before a successful career. But she is also the life that makes the words worth writing and the work worth doing. Her existence is what drives me to be the person I am.
I am forever changed.
I am a life-giver.
I am a mother.