“Babies bring abundance,” my friend told me years ago. When she imparted this Oprahesque wisdom, I wasn’t totally sure what she meant. Did she mean when the baby entered this world through an opening way too small for even the tiniest of humans, he would bring with him balloons? Or his own wardrobe? Or just some cold-hard cash? (Balloons and cash were a no go, but his wardrobe was totally supplied by my mother so that kind of counts.) I’m not sure if “babies bring abundance” is a TRUE saying, but in the instance of my baby being born it just might be.
The same month my first son was born, I signed my first publishing contract. My book had been a labor of love for over five years—which as it turns out was only slightly longer than the actual baby labor. From the birth of the idea through the labor of writing it, I wondered if I’d ever see it published and see my dream realized. Sure, there were evenings I found myself crying alone in shower—and that was years before I was all hormonal and pregnant.
Will I ever be a published author?
Will I ever be able to walk into a bookstore and see MY book?
Will there still BE bookstores by the time that happened?
Not only did the birth of my baby boy bring with him an unconditional love that I’ve never known, but apparently he also deemed it prudent to make sure his mom was getting her dreams realized all at once. It's amazing to hear myself say that the same month I become a mother, I also became a published author. That warms my heart more than Claim Jumper chocolate cake and sleeping a full four hour stretch. (Alright, ALMOST as special as sleeping a full four hours.) I’m not sure how The Kid made it all happen, but he’s done good.
A baby and a book.
So, if my husband and I decide to have another one, we are definitely buying power ball tickets.