by Normandie Fischer
|Pregnancy is blessed, but there comes a time when a pregnant woman longs for the actual birth.|
The last weeks of pregnancy compress the body and the soul. The mother’s womb has nurtured and cocooned her infant for almost nine months. She feels fat. Her contractions remain unfruitful, and there's often fear—for her baby and for herself. Some women—many women—fear failure and worry that all the work and all the waiting and all the preparation will be for naught. Because what if she fails?
|Maybe we wrote it first on a manual typewriter, and it's still not a book!|
We feel that way about our stories sometimes, don’t we?
|All we want is for everyone to love our words.|
On the other hand, what if we've convinced ourselves our work is the most beautiful compilation of words ever created? And what if—and we’ve all heard the horror stories—this masterpiece that came from our very being never finds a publisher? Or what if our self-published work never finds readers? What if we fail?
|Birthing seems to take as long as forever and be as far away as space.|