Her Story Becomes My Story: Fear

"I picked her up and held her in my arms and wondered how I could have been afraid.   It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't so bad that I should ever have been afraid of giving birth. "

I was thinking about this as I typed it.  There are a lot of things in life that we avoid because we are simply afraid.  By "we" I mean me.  I'm afraid of being seen as pushy, so I don't market myself as a storyteller.  I'm afraid of being seen as too granola, so I don't talk about my choices in raising my children, or giving birth.  I'm afraid I am not really talented, so I avoid telling my stories (because, what if there aren't any stories in me to be told?)

Ok- so my description of Caroline's birth story was a little graphic, but I am glad my memory of it was good enough for me to be that graphic.  Knowing that there were only two pushes between me being terrified and me being a mother (again) is an interesting thing to realize.  It isn't that it wasn't a lot of effort, or that it was  painless.  It's just that, "It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't so bad that I should ever have been afraid of giving birth."

How many other places in my life am I holding back?  How many other areas do I just need to suck it up and push through the fear and the discomfort?   I'm going to start looking for those places.  We forget that childbirth is bearable because there is this incredible prize at the end.  There are other treasures out there that I think I may be denying myself without having realized that the reward at the end makes the temporary discomfort small in comparison.