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?
the process takes: the imagining, the writing, the polishing, and all that
rewriting. The gestation period spans months or years, sometimes even decades.
Our book baby’s pregnancy appears interminable.
What if all our effort ends in something execrable, something even we as
parents hate? What if our precious creation reads like nothing more than
dribble, words without meaning, without substance? What if, after all, we’ve
wasted all that energy, all those years? What if we fail?
|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?
it north before Winter Storm Jonah paralyzed the city. I
prepared to leave just as the airports began to shut down, which initiated Plan B. I caught one of the last trains to make it to NYC as
the storm speared its way into Virginia, DC, and Pennsylvania, heading north. The next
day, New York shut down under a blanket of white. Finn stayed tucked inside, and my daughter waited.
we’re stuck with slower options. And sometimes we find the agent, hear the
excitement, anticipate the delivery . . . and all we have is a waiting game.
|Birthing seems to take as long as forever and be as far away as space.|
Nine. On the tenth, the pains strengthened, and we went to the hospital. When
the command to push toward birth finally came, the effort seemed to avail
little. Finn barely budged.
work seems stuck. Stuck in editing. Stuck in design. Stuck in a spiral that
calls for patience and calm.
child, and the Haitian-born obstetrician filled us with confidence because of her calm
and her skill. And although Finn took his time, he finally emerged, whole,
happy, blessed, and his mother faced none of the complications from the rushed
delivery of her daughter.
create a beautiful cover—which will be the initial point of contact with
readers. Time for our work to mature until we’re no longer book-pregnant, but
finally a book parent.