Hey there! I’m sharing a mini-memoir this week. To catch up on Micah’s pregnancy, my first book, and other stories click HERE.

September was fast approaching.

I still don’t think writing a book is much like having a baby, but I will admit the deadlines are pretty similarly etched in stone. When you’re juggling normal mom responsibilities, and growing a human, and releasing a book, those deadlines come crazy quick.

Thankfully the book was finished and marketing had begun.

What I knew for certain was that life would not be the same after Micah was born so I worked every spare moment in September on finishing details for the release. This can best be described as me burning my candle at both ends. I wrote posts, scheduled reviews, and thought through social media strategies morning, noon, and night. I was tired, but it was a good kind of tired, because it was productive and I knew my time was running out.

Micah was there kicking and turning in the early morning hours and late into the evening, his often strong movements reminding me there was more my heart should be prepared for.

Don’t forget Momma. Don’t forget I’m coming soon. Don’t forget what’s most important. Don’t forget what it’s like to welcome a baby.

This is why I pushed so hard and stretched myself so thin. I was outrageously excited about releasing my book, but honestly, I was also tiring of the experience. I didn’t want my heart to compete between the book and the baby, and I didn’t want to divide my time. I didn’t want to worry. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to be a mom again.

Three times a mom and I’d never really had contractions.

But this time there were plenty.

All month long I wondered if I might actually go into labor this time – a terrifying thought on so many levels. After two c-sections a fast-paced race to the hospital with a made-for-movies delivery was not what we wanted anymore.

Slow. Steady. Planned. Simple. On-the-day-we-scheduled.

These were the types of prayers we prayed.

A week before my due date we did the Big-Brother tour of the hospital.

The boys were thrilled to drink juice boxes and eat treats in a hospital room. Looking at the lime green shirts the boys were supposed to wear when they came to visit, I couldn’t get past the fact that this was really happening.

This pregnancy was almost over. 

I was going in for surgery again.

We might never sleep again.

I was going to be a mom again.

I was going to be a mom again.

It was go time.

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To be continued with another installment of . . .

Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Epilogue