when was "the dark night of your soul?"

You know that thing you need to do and have a burning desire to do but you don’t know exactly how to do it and before you know it your frozen with fear of getting it wrong so you just, don’t.

Yes?

Me too.

That’s exactly where I am with writing the manuscript for the book.

It’s the molehill I’ve transformed into this GINORMOUS mountain.

I’ve become the Queen of Procrastination.

Fearful that it will be  just another story.

Shakin’ in my boots scared, like scaredy-cat scared, doing my best to convince myself that it really doesn’t matter whether I write the book or not.

But then this:

We challenge our boys to do at least one brave thing a day.  We say,

“Be brave.  Fear not.”

 

What’s a scaredy-cat momma, wanna be author to do,

“Do as I say, not as I do.”  knowing that.won’t. stand-  OR go with this:

BE BRAVE!

I’ve got to.  If I want brave kinds I’ve got to be brave.  I’ve just got to.

So.

I’m done playin’ chicken y’all  (at least for tonight, somebody remind me tomorrow), I’m going to start sharing the sample chapters that I do have written and we’ll see what happens.

Hopefully, as I release my clinched, fearful fist and faithfully surrender my anxiety this mountain-like molehill of a manuscript will actually become a reality.

Because we’ve gotta start somewhere.

 

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“I think we should go now.”

 

My words confirmed what I had been passively tolerating as I lay on the couch.

 

I had covertly been trying to talk myself out of labor for over an hour.

 

Replaying the afternoon of yard work over and over in my head.

 

Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped the ditch of burning leaves? Maybe I shouldn’t have raked so long?  Maybe I shouldn’t have wrestled with those tree limbs.

 

Regardless of what I should or should not have done, the shower had not helped. The rest had not helped. The quiet pep talk on the couch had not helped.

 

The rhythmic pain in my back followed by the tightening of my stomach was growing more intense.

 

Careful not to cause any unnecessary alarm I sat up and said, “I think we should go now.”

 

“Go where?”

 

“To the hospital. Something is wrong.”

 

No other words were spoken. He quietly gathered his things as I shuffled slowly yet as quickly as I could to find my shoes.

 

Within a half hour we had registered and were waiting patiently in the waiting room of the emergency room when I felt an abrupt urge to go to the restroom.

 

Alone in the restroom, I began to grasp the urgency of our situation. There was no doubt, I was in labor.

 

My face must have said what I could not.

 

J let the attending know we were headed up to labor and delivery, pronto!

 

The wheelchair, admission to the hospital and how my people got there so fast was all a blur.

 

I was having an undisclosed conversation with myself as the nurses worked feverishly to get me hooked up to the plethora of monitors.

 

“I can feel it outside of me. I’m not supposed to be able to feel it kicking outside of me. Not yet.”

 

The nurses informed me, “We are going to start you on some medication that should stop your contractions.”

 

My doctor came by shortly thereafter to encourage us, “I am going to do everything in my power to stop this little one from coming too early.”

 

He affirmed I was indeed in labor, dilated to three and a half with bulging membranes.

 

“Bulging membranes?” “What?”

 

His words terrified me without even knowing what they meant.

 

I soon found out that bulging membranes meant the baby was hour-glassing which explained why I could feel it kicking on the outside.

 

Doc informed us that he was going to tilt my bed with the hope that gravity would help us out.

 

As he continued the nurses began adjusting my bed and before he left, my head was near the ground, my feet high in the sky with my bed at a degree that resembled that of a forward slash.

 

The nurses proceeded with such grace as they strapped  big compression contraptions on each of my legs.  I felt like an alien.  And I looked like one too.  The sweet little smiling nurses assured me the compressions thing would help with circulation.

 

They’d soon finished leaving us alone at last.

 

J, Momma and I sat staring at one another when I BURST into hysterical laughter!

 

“Can y’all believe this??

We are in labor, AGAIN and I’m lying here with my head near the ground and LOOK at these gigantic things on my legs!

Can you believe this is happening??”

 

I’m sure they didn’t know what to say.

 

What would you have said?

 

It was there in forward slash position, in pre-term labor facing a second loss that I embraced the cliché’,

 

“LAUGH or CRY?!”

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If you are new here,  welcome.  Today’s post is a snippet of a chapter that be included in the book that tells our story.

A story where pain, passion and purpose COLLIDE.

I’ll be sharing more about this particular season that plummeted me into the dark night of my soul over the next couple of days.

I’lI share with you how I shook my fist at God and let ya’ know how that turned out (not pretty) but until then feel free to  CLICK HERE or here to take a look back at a couple other posts that I’ve written about that tough season.

PLEASE share it with your loved ones who have lost or are struggling to conceive.

 

Thanks y’all