Being a Writer

I don't have my midwife hat on tonight. I think some people think I am always at the Birth Center waiting for the next woman in labor, but I also have a life outside of that. I am out of town now, and I have my daughter hat on right now. I am in Amarillo, Texas at my mom's house as I write this. I am here for my stepdad's funeral. He died of bone cancer. He suffered a lot at the end and it was a blessing for him to pass on. I'm glad to be here with my family for this funeral, this ritual. It is good to be with my family. I love to be here, but my husband doesn't and we got into an argument about that today. I don't like to be away from my clients when they have their babies, but when someone close to you dies, it can't be helped. No one has had a baby since I've been gone as far as I know. Hope they will wait until I get back, but babies don't care about my trips. They come when they are ready.

My sons (age 14 and 17) were talking today about a story we heard on NPR about why women read more than men, and why old people like to read more than young ones. It started an interesting discussion. We talked about what kind of books we like to read. I told them I want to be a writer. They both said, "Why???" Why would anyone write if they don't have to? I told them because you are the only one who can write your story. I want to write, but I don't make much time to write. This blog will have to do for now. I just finished reading a really good book called, Without a Map, by Meredith Hall. It is a story about a woman who got pregnant in 1967 when she was 16 and gave her baby up for adoption. He eventually found her when he was 21. That book really touched a cord within me. I was 16 when I had my first baby, but I didn't give him up for adoption. Anyway, reading that book made me feel like I want to write a book about my life.