When I was in labor with my first child, the anesthesiologist gave me too much epidural, which meant that I could not feel a single thing in my lower body. It was uniquely hilarious to my husband that my right foot kept falling out of the bed-stirrup, and I had to ask each time it happened if he could possibly be bothered pick himself up off the floor where he had fallen in hysterics and trouble himself to put my foot back where it belonged.
Because I was so numb, I couldn’t feel any contractions, so I’d just push for a while and then stop when I got tired. No one around me seemed to be in a particular hurry; the foot-slipping trick got a lot of laughs, there weren’t many people delivering babies that particular fall evening, and we had plenty of ice chips.
Eventually, without really noticing it, I seemed to kind of stall out. I’d push “whenever”, for however long I wanted, and then take a break. Later, I’d do it again.
I felt like it had been a few (boring) hours of this, but really it had been about 20 minutes, when the nurse picked up the phone near my bed and called down to the NICU to ask for someone to come up to my room. I asked her what she was doing and she said the baby had been in the birth canal long enough that he’d reached the point where they would want someone close by to make sure there was no brain damage from oxygen deprivation when he finally did make his appearance outside the womb.
I vividly remember looking directly at her as she said that.
Then I tucked my chin, took a huge breath, and pushed with all my strength.
He popped right out with that push.
And my life has never been the same.
Cue cheesy slideshow.
I think about that story all the time because it reminds me of the power of motivation.
All I needed at that point in labor was something to motivate me; some reason to do whatever I knew I needed to do but just didn’t feel like doing at the time. I know it’s a kind of extreme example, but every time I think about it I feel the same rush of adrenaline I felt that night when I dug down deep and birthed my boy.
I’ve been thinking about motivation a lot today because, well, I’m sick, and so not so much with the motivated. (Lots with the listening to MIX CD’s, tho.) Anyway, what helps me to keep clarity in the midst of this Nyquil-induced haze is remembering what is really important to me, and focusing on that. The way my husband laughs when I say something funny, the way it feels to have a yummy lunch with a dear, honest friend, the way I know I made the right choice to ask for help when I needed it.
Lots of stuff gets done in a day, but what’s important is why we choose to do those particular things in the first place.
Remember what got you out of bed this morning and recommit yourself. Don’t stall out or get distracted. It might not always feel like it, but what you are doing matters. It’s easy to lose sight of the goal when the ice chips seem like enough and the pain is dulled, but you are meant for more. We all are. So go do something already.
P.S. You’d better be motivated to sign up for the workshop. Do it here. Right now!