I was wrong. Birthing books is not like birthing babies.
Not completely.
On the sixteenth of May, I gave birth to my third child. I am both completely in awe and totally exhausted. My heart is filled with love and calm satisfaction. Finally…here.
My journey to motherhood was as tumultuous as my journey to being an author. My third live birth is one of six pregnancies I’ve had in my life. For those of you who don’t know, there is nothing as unforgiving as a womb that eats your children. There is nothing to fill the void, and it doesn’t matter how far between they come.
I will never have a pregnancy where I am not worried about loss. Ever.
With this in mind, each live birth steals my breath. It erases years of doubt, shame, and hopelessness. It isn’t real until my little ones are laying on my chest, their little hearts beating against mine. My first darling, was born healthy despite the surgery I had halfway through my pregnancy. My second darling, was full of gestational diabetes worry. The last one, when my newest darling was born, was the smoothest pregnancy I’ve ever experience. Healthy, happy, and whole babies came here on a wing and a prayer and much, much grace.
When I stare down into the newest face, I am full of prayers of thankfulness. It is still surreal that my body which for years ignored my pleas for children could somehow bring them forth now. I do not take this for granted.
I have long advocated for a woman’s right to choose motherhood, in part because it has always felt like my body didn’t have to acknowledge my choice. Now, when they are in my arms and I see them thriving and I am humbled. My cup runneth over.
I count their fingers and toes. I say prayers over their crowns. I listen for the soft hum of their breath and watch for the steady rhythm of their rapidly beating hearts. They are here and I was the conduit that brought them here.
Hallelujah. Amen.
To have them here is the manifestation of many prayers having come along on the tail end of lost faith.
When I think of the process of publishing the Alpha’s Dream, I have similar feelings. There were many false starts. There were several failed attempts and The Alpha’s Dream was published at a time when I was at the end of my rope. It has not been without flaws. There are still some issues I will have to address in the second edition, but I am thankful. I am sure this is what I want and what is destined for my life.
It is here and I was the conduit that brought it here.
My days are stretched thinner than ever before, but I love it. I am devoted to being a #MamaAuthor. I will thin myself out to fill these roles and that of being a wife, because of the value they add to my being. I am full of joy ya’ll. I am full of gratitude. I don’t take one second of this as common or replaceable.
My writing will take a back seat for a few weeks, but I am still creating. I can’t wait to bring you guys a new release, but in this moment I have a new life to celebrate.
To all the mamaauthors out there, to all the creators who turn emptiness into life – cheers. We are the true makers of this world.
Joy.
Jocelyn Young 