the finish line

have you run a long race before? maybe not literally... but in some fashion?

have you dragged yourself on and on, knowing there had to be an end, even when it didn't feel like it for hours/days/weeks/months/years?

friends, i can see my finish line. with my due date just six days away, i can see a checkered line. i don't care about my time. i don't care about the people at the end or the medal or the water or anything. i don't care about the doctors, the hospital, the birth, the epidural (or lack there of), the idea of a good meal afterwards, or anything. in some ways, i'm not sure i care about the baby.

i just want to stop running.

as i threw up earlier this week, i could confidently tell myself that this journey will end.

i could remember much, much harder parts of this race (like when i passed out while driving).

i could hear the unhelpful comments from the sidelines ("you can't be that sick", "my sister threw up the first few weeks of pregnancy", "you are certainly gaining weight"), all being drowned out by my own determined steps.

friends, whatever your journey, i am here to tell you that you can endure.

i am here to tell you that whatever medal they hand you at the end - whether it be a literal one, a baby, a peace in knowing you did the right thing - will be small part in your sweet victory of endurance.

and if nothing else, i hope that i continue to remember the lesson that pregnancy has taught me - there is value in that endurance. there is value in continuing the race. there is no satisfaction or prize like knowing you ran well.

hurl yourself towards the finish line - pun intended.