When I imagined becoming an author, I definitely had a much more glamorous idea of it in my mind.
I certainly didn’t imagine that I would be rushing to finish my book on the morning it was due, in my nasty old nursing nightgown with the broken strap, with my hair in a bun that was half-falling out, stressed because I could hear Jacob stirring in his crib and gulping down stale, lukewarm coffee.
But such is life.
I woke up semi-early today, determined to brew a steaming cup of coffee and savor my moment as a new author in the dawn of the morning, relishing that my dream of writing a book had finally come true.
But I forgot to take my coffee off the Keurig when it was done.
And then I had to go to the bathroom.
And then I was pouting when Ben didn’t even kiss me good-bye when he left.
And then I started browsing Facebook.
I was nervous and floundering and too afraid to hit “send.” For one thing, I wasn’t even sure who to send it to. You would think that would have been covered in the contract, wouldn’t you? Part of me is trembling in fear that they’re going to respond with an email that states simply, “Who is this? We don’t remember you…”
Maybe the book sucks, I think.
Maybe it’s not what they will be expecting, I think.
I’m such a loser to sit here in my jammies and write a book about getting pregnant that no one will read, I think.
So I sat, my coffee growing cold and my mind racing, fixing a comma here, adjusting some spacing there, throwing in some last-minute edits, when I heard the garage door open.
The sound of my husband’s tires crunched on the gravel as he turned into our driveway.
The door swung open and he stepped up into the kitchen.
“Did you forget your lunch?” I called out from my perch in the office, not even bothering to get up to greet him.
He didn’t respond, but strode into the office. I swiveled around in our faux-black leather chair and looked up at him in surprise as he pulled out a bouquet of gorgeous, pale pink roses from behind his back.
He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
“Congratulations,” he said. “I’m so proud of you.”
Blushing with pleasure, I buried my head in the flowers and looked shyly up at him.
“I thought you forgot,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”
Ben grabbed a bright blue crayon off of the floor and signed the card he had picked up with a flourish.
I kissed my sweet husband and hugged him and thanked him profusely. Honestly, I think I was more surprised by his gesture than when he proposed. (Shhh, don’t tell him!) I walked him to the door with another hug and a kiss and a little butt squeeze for good measure.
And then I sat down in front of my computer, smiling as I looked at my flowers one more time.
And hit “send.”