Labor

I've given birth to four children. When I say that my latest endeavor is much like the process of bringing a child into the world, I know what I'm talking about.

From the first hint of her existence, I thrilled with curious anticipation. As she formed within my mind, I loved her. I marveled as she took shape, worried over her development, and anguished over her deformities. I became sullen, distracted, and more or less cranky when something was wrong with her. There were days when all I could think about and all I could talk about was... her. Other times, I could not speak of her at all, for fear that she would never fully develop.

I have labored these last two months and two days, through late nights and distracted days, to ensure that she is complete and beautiful and lovely, that she lacks nothing and offers much, that in the end, she will give glory to the Author and Perfecter of my faith.

Now at last, I hold her in my hands - warm and fresh and waiting to meet the world. I am both eager and terrified to think what her future might hold. Surely, the world will tear her apart. Surely, I will grieve. Surely, I will inflict pain upon her that she may become a more worthy creation. Perhaps she will be embraced, loved, cherished. I have no guarantee of her happy future, but must place her in the hands of ones more skilled than myself, hoping that someone will love her as I do and raise her to stand on her own out in the big, bad world.

A few brave souls, most notably my Patient and Beloved Husband and my Wise and Wonderful Sister, bore with me through it all. Without their understanding and forgiveness, she could not have been born at all.

And so I present my darling Grit...

Now to begin the arduous task of finding her a publisher.