Well, it finally happened.

I just signed a major publishing deal to write a self-help book for mothers. To say this is a dream come true for me feels so cliché, flat and ridiculously understated that I’ll just say something else.

It was a long damn road to get here.

The struggle was real. The struggle isn’t over (I still have to write the book), but as my team at work once reminded me, the struggle is part of the story.

This surprisingly comforting realization was presented to me when I checked into a hotel room two years ago after receiving my 13th rejection from publishers.

#toughday

I was deflated, tired, overwhelmed and had very likely consumed a tequila shot or two when I walked into my hotel room in NYC to find the scene above on my bed. My colleagues and dear friends managed to convince me, via cheesecake, that the struggle was natural and necessary to get to the next level. And on cue, I burst into tears.

If you know me, you know that this is perfectly normal. I cry on the regular. It’s simply part of my DNA; just ask my husband.

It took me four long years to get to this day – to get to a yes.

Those four years were filled with a lot of highs and lows, a tremendous amount of hard work…and yes, you guessed it, a lot of tears. I didn’t simply cry during the hard times, I cried during the good times too.

I guess that means I’m an equal opportunity crier.

I recently took some time to reflect on this four-year journey and the tears that came along the way. I’m not sharing this information to convince you that I’m a crybaby, although I won’t blame you if that’s your takeaway when I’m done. Continue Reading