The landscape rises up around me, contracting and undulating and pushing me forward as if in labor, giving birth to a new me.
There’s pain. As in any birthing process, pain and discomfort can devour hope, and, for a few harsh moments, obliterate the joy and anticipation of a new birth.
There’s power. As I push through the pain, meet the challenges head-on, I feel a new strength surging through me, filling all the empty spaces and energizing my soul.
There’s purpose. Every streak of pain, every spurt of joy; every jagged edge of confusion, every sparkling moment of clarity; when fatigue lures into a swamp of despondency, and when hope springs and sprouts wings: These all serve to sharpen my resolve, to remind me of all the reasons I must see this through.
There’s peace. Those golden moments when everything in the universe rejoices and whispers, You are here. You are whole. All is well.