It's been nearly 5 months since my last blog posting. I'd like to say that I had nothing of value to contribute to the internet in that time span. But alas, I cannot. I have been busy. So, so busy. I am the mom of three little girls. I have the privilege of staying home with my children (thanks to my husband, who works hard to make this possible!) I was watching Wheel of Fortune the other night, because I am old, and there was a fellow stay-at-home mom on. She was sweet and stated that she loved staying home because it gave her time to pursue her hobbies. Clearly this woman had only one child. I have no time to pursue hobbies. Heck, the days I can pursue an uninterrupted shower are considered a victory in my book! Blogging would be a hobby. One that I have, until recently been unable to pursue.
For the sake of the reader I'll give a brief rundown of the last 5 months. Because I know you've been dying to hear what's been going on! August was pretty uneventful (from what I can remember).
Then came September! In September I turned 28 and inched my way closer to 30. 30 is (according to one of the students I work with in the youth group) a suitable age for a mother. She believed I was "at least 30" because I had children. How I love that girl! In September I committed murder. Shall I explain? I had gone to a baseball game with a dear friend. We left early because of yucky weather and went to Starbucks, where I had the greatest cup of coffee in my life. Things were good. I went to take her home, we were laughing and talking, and then it happened. I killed our car. Not just maimed it. It died. I hated that car, it was old. It was hideous. It was a little creepy. But it got my husband to work everyday, and it was paid off. And I had to go and kill it. Late at night. In the middle of nowhere. In a torrential downpour. I drove through water. Water that was too high. Water that ultimately led to the death of our other vehicle. This was not a good time in our house. My husband was less than thrilled with my crimes. Praise God for insurance! They paid for our car! Between insurance, early Christmas money, and a little of our own money, we were able to become the proud owners of a paid for minivan! We had discussed getting Aaron a junkie car to get him to and from work. And then came the news. News I was not prepared for. News that blindsided me and made me rely on Jesus.
We were pregnant. Again. Days after the Car Killing I realized my "visitor" was late. Just a day or so, but she's never late. She's pretty trusty that way. So, I bought a test and there it was, clear as day. Pregnant. This was not news that I had anticipated. Nor was it news that I was prepared for, in the slightest. I went through a myriad of emotions. Nowhere in my plans was there a fourth child. Nowhere. It was going to be Aaron and I along with our three beautiful girls. End of story. We'd be out of diapers soon, and moving on to bigger and better things. My husband is awesome. He is always, always thrilled and thankful when he finds out we're having a baby. He tells me he loves me, and that all will be well. And usually, I shake off the shock and move into the joy right along with him. Not this time. This time I was so stunned, so shaken to my core, that I didn't tell anyone, save for my husband, for days. I tried to let it sink in. But it wouldn't. The first friend I told was Carolyn. And she said everything I needed to hear. So did Leann. These two women, whose opinion and wisdom I value more than they could ever know, said and did exactly what I needed. Sweet Facebook messages and cards of encouragement; they were excited for me. They helped to remind me of the amazing blessing and miracle a baby really is. And my mom. In the past, when our babies came at times when we least expected them, she didn't always say what I needed to hear. But this time, God must have whispered in her ear that I needed her. Because she was perfect. I was coming to grips with our new reality. We started to tell friends at church and word spread. People were encouraging and excited. I still hadn't caught that Baby Fever. I needed to hear that heartbeat. I needed to know that this tiny thing consuming all of my energy and making me grouchy was real. At that appointment, our nurse was less than kind, heard the heartbeat for herself and was done. I heard nothing. I was crushed and still not excited. And finally, finally, it came at the next appointment, a whole 15 weeks into the pregnancy. The sound I so desperately needed to hear. The whooshing of a teeny little heart pumping. The same cranky nurse was in a good mood this time. She left the doppler over the baby long enough for me to take it in. My husband and girls were in the room. The girls stopped and listened to their new sibling. It was a great moment. And exactly what my heart needed.
Now, at the moment, Baby Number 4 is 20 weeks along. Crucial development has occurred. I can feel flops and flips daily. In 3 days we'll know if we are having another delicate girl or a sweet baby boy. And I have some peace. I don't understand it. I don't know how we'll afford it. I don't know if we'll all fit into our tiny home. But God does. And that is all that matters. I am learning to trust Him to take care of me. If I let Him take care of me, I can do a better job caring for the needs of the ones I love.
Which takes us to December. I was sick, so sick my first trimester. Prior to Blasor Baby 4 we planned on homeschooling. I believe in homeschooling. I think homeschooling is awesome. I love homeschool families and the values they instill in their children. I wanted this for our family. But, I am unorganized. I love sleep. I have children aged 5, 3, and 1. And I was sick for 2 months. School started out pretty great. And then I was sick. I was tired. We fell behind. Way, way behind. So behind I had a choice to make. I love my children. I want the absolute best for them. And I had to admit, that, in this case, the best was not me. Halfway through December, after much prayer and discussion, we chose to send our oldest, Grace, to public school. She was to start in January at the beginning of the new semester. She was apprehensive but eventually grew to love the idea. Christmas came and went. So did New Years. (Both of which were fabulous! Full of great things like PillowPets and Lock-Ins, but for the sake of time...)
Grace is now a Kindergartener. She just completed her first week in public school with her new teacher. And she loves it! She is thriving, making friends, and having a blast. She got to ride the bus, which she believes is amazing. She LOVES homework! She's definitely my kid! Everyday has been full of new and exciting things for her. We pray for her school, her teachers, her friends, and trust that God is looking out for her, even when I can't be with her.
Our middle daughter, Emma, is adjusting at home. She misses her best friend dearly and has acted out some, but I believe next week will be better. We're still doing preschool at home. It's not quite as time consuming and it can be done one-on-one during Claire's nap.
So, in the last few months I have been up and down. I've felt like a jerk. A big one. I have several friends who are currently struggling with infertility. A monthly battle they wage and pray for the results they so desperately hope for. I have never known this battle. And I never know quite what to say. And here I was, given the gift of another miracle. And I couldn't get excited for the joy that I had been given. I don't understand why some of us are given babies, and some of us have to work so hard for them. I wish I did. I wish I could hug those people I love so much, tell them the right words, and give them the thing they so desperately desire. But I can't. All I know is that every baby, every single one; the ones that are wanted, and the ones that aren't, every baby is a miracle. A tiny miracle that must be treasured. And I will be grateful for the blessings I have. I will continue to pray for my friends, and the babies they have yet to embrace, biological or not.
And I've felt like a failure. I believed (and continue to) in the awesomeness of homeschooling. I talked it up to my family and my friends. I committed to this for our family. And then, when push came to shove, I couldn't do it. I felt like I put our daughter at a disadvantage. I felt like I had failed my husband. I was angry at myself and felt like a fool. But, somehow, God always works things out. Our daughter is doing well at school and seems to be on track with the other kids. We were able to recuperate some of our homeschooling expense. And I am not a failure. I just had to learn that it's okay to say no. It's okay to ask for help. And it's okay to trust that someone else is more qualified in certain areas. Will we be monitoring her schoolwork, checking in on her classroom, and staying actively involved in her education? You better believe it!
So, 5 months later, I am thanking God for the chaos of my life. And wondering what my blog will look like in another 5 months, when baby number 4 makes his or her arrival!
