Uncanny Parallels - Birthing a Book and Birthing a Baby
In my own experience talking to the worthiest of mothers, as well as in some of the stories within my book, Swaddled, women fret when pregnancy and childbirth don’t come swiftly or easily. And then they question things retrospectively. Of course they do! If one’s vision is to conceive a biological child, concern first focuses on how to get pregnant when the birds and the bees haven’t delivered on their promises. Questions creep in around to what extent to go in creating and bringing forth life that’s completely or partially genetically theirs. Testing regimens, ovulatory stimulants, IUI, IVF, egg donation, sperm donation, and surrogacy swirl as only some of the options at hand. If adoption is on one’s heart, this option offers the extraordinary opportunity to love an already existent life who needs you, comes to you, and is meant to be yours.
If you do carry your child, there’s certainly more than one way to bring your new love into the world. Sometimes we get to make that choice (natural, medical-free delivery supported by a heroic partner and adept midwife/doula), and other times we do not (emergency C-section). Like all other happenings in our lives, the way in which each of us procreates and delivers our progeny comes with certain circumstances, some within our control and others not. We get to choose to accept those circumstances or try to change or work around them.
As you know from perusing this website, I’ve conceived and written a book, but it isn’t here quite yet. I’m still pregnant! It hit me that my knotty decision of how to bring my creation into the world (self, hybrid, or traditional publishing) isn’t all too different from the decision some make around how to bring their human child into the world. Likely most agree that the book related decision is holistically less consequential and less profound in many ways. Still, it has felt very emotionally heavy, and I see parallels.
In the end, if my book lands in the hands of those who need it, then how it got there doesn’t matter so much. The nuances of which publisher’s insignia is on the spine, cover design credit, and royalty payments lose significance when I think about Swaddled helping a struggling mother in the ways I needed to be helped – by letting her know that she isn’t alone, that she’s the perfect mother to her baby, and that her life will come back to her.
And so, I choose to let go of the hairy details of how, when and who. I believe that there is no wrong way, rather only a right path. When it is meant to be, it will be here. Until then, I surrender and embrace the creative process. I release self-judgement and attention to how “everyone else is doing it.” I hope this won’t be my last book baby, and I will apply my profuse learnings of this first experience to my next book pregnancy and delivery. While uncanny, I guess these parallels shouldn’t be overly surprising. Because you see, my book is my current baby.
Hugs!
