All afternoon and into early evening. A nap. A stroll around the block. Dinner preparations. On an ordinary day, this might be how those hours of the day pass, slipping by almost unnoticed in their conventionality. But it was not an ordinary day. It was a birthday.

For this woman, those hours were spent in a time warp. The beginning, the end — really, there was no difference. For hours, the only clock that mattered was the rhythmic ebb and flow of the forces pushing her baby down, down, down.

It was a remarkable sight. Watching her work — so very, very hard — was awe inspiring. She was near delirium with exhaustion, having spent every ounce of her energy hours and hours before. And now she was being asked — required, really — to exert her muscles and her mind in ways that she’d never known she was capable of. What, for many people, is the welcome relief, the end in sight, was, for this mom, the steepest part of the hill. Asked to give more when she had nothing left, I saw her tap into something I only hope I have in myself.

She continued on, hour after hour, her facial expression a combination of present and gone, and her words having long ago left her. She had no hope and no expectations, no direction, no proof. And, on this shaky, uncertain ground, she stepped forward, again and again. With an inspired combination of letting go, surrendering to the forces at work within her, and holding tight to her own power and determination, I watched as mom was transformed by all her toil. Her uncertainty turned into commitment. Her anxiety dissolved into resolve. During the hours when so many others were napping, this woman was unfolding. When others were strolling, this woman was bending and breaking. And while others made dinner, this woman became a mom.

This will not be the hardest thing she will ever do for her baby. This will not be the most difficult task, the most exhausting moment. But when those times do come upon her, I hope she will remember this day, and confidently know what she has inside her. She should. That is the real miracle of those afternoon hours.