Every so often, the Universe likes to place a speed bump in my way. These bumps vary in size and are just as annoying as the kind created by the Department of Transportation. After all, they force me to slow down, change plans and thoughtfully negotiate my way forward.
Last Tuesday, I hit one of those bumps – this time one of the larger variety. My little girl fell ill and within the course of just a few hours, all the week’s priorities were different. Suddenly, I was asking the ‘what if’ questions that every parent dreads. Thankfully and joyfully, my daughter is now fine. This week, I can breathe.
But the whole experience has left me thinking lots about the process of birth: About how immense and intense it is to bring a child into this world. About how that hugely physical and traumatic endeavour is only the beginning of the caring, nurturing, loving, sacrificing, questioning, growing and worrying.
And really, is birthing a child any different than birthing a creative dream?
Neither happens overnight. Neither is easy or straight-forward. Both are transformational journeys that are quite often unexpected and surprising.
And if I’m honest, no matter the difficulty, I would not trade either for the world.