You know that moment when your baby is working on something and he’s just about to get it? He’s already stacked several rings but is really struggling with that last one. It’s that moment of frustration when he’s squealing but pushing through, persevering to the goal. That “I’ve stacked a lot of rings but I’m not done yet, and this last one is really hard!” feeling. You have already done a lot of work, but you are not done yet. You have already started that last semester, but the extensive syllabi remind you there is still much more work to do. You are six days into your New Year’s resolutions, but the measurable results are still small. Your relationship is mending, but it’s a long trans-Atlantic flight away from being redeemed. You are already better, but not cured yet. You have already received a blessing, but not in its entirety.  You have already started a blog on HuffPost and written several posts (stacked a number of rings), but you haven’t really fleshed out your book yet. You have an idea– the seed–and now there is work you need to do to see the blooming flower in the spring.

I am working on a cappuccino in a café while creating this post. Mom sitting in a café—such a cliché, right? People don’t know all that you have already done–that you’ve been up at night nursing, got two kids to school, and planned dinner. Now you write during a few minutes of baby-napping bliss.  You have labored already, but you still aren’t done. And you won’t be done even when your head hits the pillow at an abominable hour. And that is okay. There is a rhythm to life. Already you have worked, you rest, and then then you finish the work not yet done. Or you reach out for help to get it done.

Back in the café, I overhear “You’re going to be fine, as soon as they give you the epidural.” Already you are in labor, and you’re going to finish the work once you get the epidural.

Putting aside the facts about epidurals not taking away all the pain and sometimes making laboring effectively more difficult, we all need help laboring, and once we get the help, many of us—with God’s grace—are able to complete our work. I gave birth to my two boys naturally, but I still needed the natural epidural of water. Other women use hypnosis, music, or massage. Labor is really tough. Especially when you are in the final stages. You are already in labor, but you haven’t pushed out the baby yet. There is an intense time of painful work. You know something really good is coming, but it’s not here yet! You need help to get there.

I am writing a book about my experience of motherhood. I have three kids, and now it’s time for a literary baby, a synthesis of what I’ve learned. I know laboring takes time and I know there is no way but through it. Thankfully, I love writing. I don’t need an epidural to write. Yet there is pain in reliving certain times in my head as I write about them. And maybe the epidural is that I trust I am going to be okay. Trusting God when things seem risky and difficult and frivolous when I could be grocery shopping right now. Taking time to listen to my heart in my writing even as I am mindful of things I have to accomplish today. Gone are the days of endless hours of writing in cafes. I know this is just an hour-long break. And that’s okay. Another epidural is the tender hug of my baby. When you write about motherhood, the very beings that caused you pain—they can be the epidural for the writing process because now they can bring so much love. So in that sense, maybe that lady was correct. I am going to be fine, as soon as I get my epidural of love and trust, my baby’s trust in me and my trust in God.  Now I press forward and push through to see the fruition of my labor!

Speaking of pressing on into new adventures, I went to pick up my preschooler and the music teacher who I have known for three years  looked at me with melancholy and said, “I am sad you are leaving us!”

“I am?”  I said, confused.

“Oh, maybe my friend was talking about someone else.”  We walk together for a few moments in silence.

“Just out of curiosity,” I said with a smile, “where was I going?”

“Overseas!”  She said with pleasure.

“That’s great!” I said.

“I’m sorry.  I just got back from a trip to Europe.  I must still be jet lagged!”

“Well, I hope that I’ll be in Europe later this year,” I said.

She gave me a dream, and now it’s time for work!