Infertility & Disappointment: Don’t be Afraid to Fail Spectacularly

How they were SUPPOSE to look

I have failed spectacularly!

Yep I said it, and I am proud of it. Today I failed SPECTACULARLY! I mean I bombed, I sucked, I really, really tanked.

My grandmother makes the world’s best dough–dinner roll/bread/cinnamon roll dough that would make any mortal drool.

Being a half decent cook/baker myself I continually think I can master the art of that dough. Ha!

So today I failed spectacularly. The first batch of dough could have been used as a hockey puck for our nieces and nephews. The second, oh it was so, so pretty. Yet when I rolled it out last night (way too late when I was far too tired), I rolled it out too thin. Alas, today the rolls just wouldn’t rise like I needed them to.

The result–an absolutely perfect, incredibly magnificent disaster!

You see, if I was going to fail, why not do it spectacularly? Why not go down in a blaze of glory, or tiny un-risen gooey cinnamon rolls?

When we fear failure, when we stand on the edge in trepidation, reluctant to take one single step forward, we risk nothing. Sure, we are “safe,” yet we never ever grow, we never have the chance that one day our cinnamon rolls will come out tasting of perfection.

And when it comes to consciously conceiving, being too afraid to believe leaves us with far less than underdeveloped dough, it leaves us with underdeveloped dreams.

Don’t be afraid to dream big, and don’t be afraid to fail spectacularly. Because you see, the only thing we have to lose by believing in a dream, by putting our strong hands into the mixture of flour, water, eggs, oil, and baby dust, is the fear of our own magnificence.

Believe in yourself, believe in your dream, and never ever be too afraid of failure that you forgo a try. Because even though those rolls might have looked like they were made for the Keebler Elves, they tasted pretty darn good. And the next time I try, they will be a little better, and then a little better, until one day they will be the masterpiece my son or daughter begs me to make on a Sunday morning.

All because I failed spectacularly time, after time, after time until one day I got it right.

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