Monday, February 27, 2012
Oh, and by the way...
THANK YOU to all of you who left us (me!) encouraging comments, offered prayers on our behalf, brought us food, and picked up/dropped off my children during our bumpy week, and just offered to help in any way. All of these very kind gestures are so very much appreciated!
Sunday, February 26, 2012
HOME... with shaved legs
We are HOME!
And today, I shaved my legs!
It's amazing what a long, hot bath and freshly shaved legs can do for my spirits. I feel like a whole new person!
I didn't get to shave my legs before I went to the hospital. It was one of those things that didn't get crossed off my list. And I always shave my legs before giving birth... it just makes me feel better.
So add "unshaved legs" to the list of all the things that didn't go as I planned for Abby's birth.
That and a third admittance to the hospital! That's right... after Abby was released from the hospital, two days later, I landed myself right back there again!
It has become my mantra... Not What I Planned!
Swollen legs, chest pain, a heart murmur, and an elevated marker on a blood test were reasons enough to get me admitted to the cardiac unit of the hospital. And so Vance and I spent our sixth night in eight days at the hospital... this time it was me that was being tested and monitored for cardiac "stuff".
So my unshaved legs and weary spirit got to take my very first ride in the back of an ambulance...
And after that, my unshaved legs got to wear these fancy motorized air massage wraps and snazzy socks for two days...
Whether or not they were successful in sending the blood from my legs to my heart is uncertain, but I do think they helped to reduce my leg swelling as I am starting to see signs of my ankles again!
All in all, this hospital stay proved to be another small bump in the road and we are now HOME again... all six of us!
And today, I have shaved legs!
Abby is doing well. Amazingly well. So well, I'm nervous... wondering if and how long it will last!
She is being loved on by her siblings.
She is sleeping well... even during her bath!
She is opening her eyes more often every day.
And I am fine too. My heart issues proved to be the result of too much fluid that I had not yet released from my body. It is starting to come off and I'm starting to feel better.
And I am starting to catch my breath and figure out how to manage my household of six. It is an adjustment; one that I haven't completely figured out yet. But I will get there.
I am just grateful to be HOME. And I'm grateful for Abby's health, for my health, and crazy though it seems around here, I am grateful for the chaos. When I was wearing the leg massagers and had unshaved legs in the hospital, I craved the chaos of home.
It was a bumpy and unplanned week for sure, but all is beginning to settle.
We are HOME.
And today I have shaved legs! Things are looking up!
And today, I shaved my legs!
It's amazing what a long, hot bath and freshly shaved legs can do for my spirits. I feel like a whole new person!
I didn't get to shave my legs before I went to the hospital. It was one of those things that didn't get crossed off my list. And I always shave my legs before giving birth... it just makes me feel better.
So add "unshaved legs" to the list of all the things that didn't go as I planned for Abby's birth.
That and a third admittance to the hospital! That's right... after Abby was released from the hospital, two days later, I landed myself right back there again!
It has become my mantra... Not What I Planned!
Swollen legs, chest pain, a heart murmur, and an elevated marker on a blood test were reasons enough to get me admitted to the cardiac unit of the hospital. And so Vance and I spent our sixth night in eight days at the hospital... this time it was me that was being tested and monitored for cardiac "stuff".
So my unshaved legs and weary spirit got to take my very first ride in the back of an ambulance...
And after that, my unshaved legs got to wear these fancy motorized air massage wraps and snazzy socks for two days...
All in all, this hospital stay proved to be another small bump in the road and we are now HOME again... all six of us!
And today, I have shaved legs!
Abby is doing well. Amazingly well. So well, I'm nervous... wondering if and how long it will last!
She is being loved on by her siblings.
She is sleeping well... even during her bath!
She is opening her eyes more often every day.
And I am fine too. My heart issues proved to be the result of too much fluid that I had not yet released from my body. It is starting to come off and I'm starting to feel better.
And I am starting to catch my breath and figure out how to manage my household of six. It is an adjustment; one that I haven't completely figured out yet. But I will get there.
I am just grateful to be HOME. And I'm grateful for Abby's health, for my health, and crazy though it seems around here, I am grateful for the chaos. When I was wearing the leg massagers and had unshaved legs in the hospital, I craved the chaos of home.
It was a bumpy and unplanned week for sure, but all is beginning to settle.
We are HOME.
And today I have shaved legs! Things are looking up!
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Not What I Planned
I have spent the better part of the past 6 weeks in a frenzy of organzing projects.
I have cleaned and reorganized my pantry, laundry room, kids' bathroom, hall closets, and storage rooms. I've purged and purged some more. I've sold clothes and cleaned closets and organized clothing to keep. I've switched kids rooms, had rooms painted, purchased new furniture and hung pictures.
I've made lists, crossed items off of those lists, and then made new lists.
Why?
Partly because I was "nesting" and partly because it's just who I am. I like to have things in order... especially when I know there is change coming. It makes me feel more calm; gives me a false sense of control.
And as the birth of Abby drew closer, I felt more desperate than ever to have things in place. To have a plan. To have control over my life.
Bringing home new babies has not historically gone well for me. And as much as I love having a newborn, most of my memories of newborn babies are associated with stress, lack of sleep, and crying. Lots and lots of crying.
All of my children have had colic. And all of them have had horrible sleep problems as a result. Colilc is the unexplainable, incurable, untreatable, medical mystery that plagues infants for months and months on end. And for anyone who has experienced it, you know that it not only plagues the babies, but the parents as well. The endless crying is not limited to the infant. As the parent, your inability to soothe and comfort your baby often drives you to the point of desperation.... tears upon tears.
So when I think of bringing home a newborn miracle, I can't help but think of heartbeat CD's, chiropractic treatments, vacuum cleaner white noise, hours upon hours of painful crying, walking around the house in the wee hours of the night, shhhing, swaddling, bouncing, doctor appointments, inclined beds, acid reflux medications, dietary changes, and desperation. Lots of desperation.
And that makes me feel completely out of control. A feeling I don't handle well.
So in the back recesses of my hormonal mind, I think I thought if I could control every other thing in my life, perhaps I could survive another bout with a colicky baby. Without being completely aware of it, I was trying to plan for it; control it.
And so I made lists; planned for Abby to arrive into my controlled, planned environment.
Only it didn't happen that way.
Instead of going in for a scheduled, planned induction on Friday, February, 17th, I went to the hospital on Wednesday night, February 16th. I spent all of Wednesday battling a stomach bug that not only left me dehydrated with contractions; I wasn't able to complete my very long list of items to be accomplished on Wednesday & Thursday in anticipation of Abby's birth.
And so I went to the hospital...
with many uncrossed items on my lists;
without a packed bag for myself or the baby;
without taking a "night before" picture of my belly as I had done with all of my other kids;
without a back up camera battery;
wearing pajamas and no make up;
feeling completely and desperately out of control.
Today is Sunday, February 19th and I'm still sitting in a hospital bed at Wesley.
I feel like screaming....
This is NOT What I planned!
Abby was born on Thursday... the morning after I came, unprepared, to the hospital. No one made it to her birth. We don't have a single picture of me holidng her right after she was born.
Not What I Planned.
The kids didn't get to come to meet her on Thursday, wearing the special shirts I had made for the special occasion of meeting their new baby sister. Instead, Noah came home from school and began vomiting. Later that night, Emily and Molly got to come to meet their sister. Molly kissed the baby on the head, held her, and then went home and threw up.
Not What I Planned.
We didn't go home on Friday.
Not What I Planned.
Intead we went home on Saturday at 4:00 pm. I took a shower; eager to take the scrapbook worthy "going home picture" of Abby in her new outfit. I got her dressed and posed. Vance held up the camera and the battery instantly died. So we have no "going home" pictures of our 4th child.
Not What I Planned.
We finally made it home on Saturday evening. The kids were so excited. We had a nice dinner and Abby slept comfortably in her new inclined "Nap Nanny" that I purchased in anticipation of needing an inclined bed.
And then I fed her. She threw it up. I fed her again. She threw it up. She cried. And cried. And cried. She was in pain; obvious terrible pain in her stomach. We did not sleep a wink. We consulted with after hours doctors, took rectal temperatures, and ultimately found ourselves driving BACK to the Wesley ER 12 hours after we left.
Not What I Planned.
We had to wait for two hours in the main Wesley ER. It was awful. As we were checking in, a young girl came in with a horizontal cut across her neck. No kidding... as if someone had tried to slit her throat. Spending time in that ER was an eye opener to a whole other world that we are fortunate not to have to witness very often.
When we finally got to a "bay" in the awful ER, they told me they would have to do bloodwork, an Xray, an Ultrasound, and start an IV... in her head.
Not What I Planned.
We were admitted for continued observation with no plan for dismissal. Tonight marks the fifth night I have slept in a hospital bed. Slept being a very relative term as my total hours of sleep since Abby was born approximates less than 10 hours.
Not What I Planned.
I have been ordered to stop breastfeeding and give formula for the next feedings to see if makes a difference in Abby's stomach pain. I'm engorged, sad, and irritated that my "perfect nutrition" could potentially be causing her misery. So I'm pumping and saving, but still hoping that I won't have to cease nursing her.
Not What I Planned.
No one knows what is wrong. Doctors say it's too early for it to be colic. They say newborns shouldn't cry out in terrible gas pain at 2 and 3 days of age. They've never seen a newborn cry in such pain for no reason. But they don't know what I have lived.
And so we are still here; hoping she will improve and desperately hoping that we are not destined for the same months of misery and desperation that we have had with the past children.
As I said, I feel like screaming...
This is NOT What I Planned!
BUT...
I am sitting here therapeutically writing this in a place that I have been fortunate enough to have never been before... a pediatric floor in a hospital.
As I type, there is a little girl circling the floor on a tricycle wearing her pink PJ's. She is singing as she rides in circles on the floor of a hospital... she is not outside as many other children are on this gorgeous day. But she's still singing and smiling.
And there is a little boy next door who is a playing a make believe drum. He has no hair. His room has been occupied for quite some time as is evident by the play space that has been set up inside the tiny square space. There are other children in his room playing Nintendo. They are not outside playing tag or basketball like many other children their age are on this Spring like day. But he is still playing his drum and laughing.
So as much as I want to scream and cry and pout about my life not going like I had planned, all I have to do is look outside my door to realize that my "unplanned" situation is virtually nothing compared to the "unplanned" situations many other parents and children face.
I can't even imagine how badly they want to scream...
This is NOT What I Planned!
And so I'm doing my best to learn from this unplanned situation.
I fear change. I fear being out of control. I fear the unknown. I fear... a lot.
But I cannot control my life... no matter how many lists I make or rooms I organize.
My life and the lives of my children are in the hands of the One who gave us life. And He does not want me to fear. He does not want me to worry. Or have anxiety. And most importantly, He does not want me to hold fast to my own plans. Or wallow in selfishness.
He wants me to let go; to rely fully and totally on Him. To trust. Not my plan, but His.
And so tonight, even though I feel sad about some of the things that are happening in my life; I'm much more sad for the others I know (and those that I don't) whose "This is Not What I Planned" is so, so much more difficult than mine.
And if I have to give up dairy again, then I will. It is a minor sacrifice.
And if I have to go through months and months of sleepless nights again, then I will try to remember those who have sleepless nights in a hospital while I am awake.
And if I don't have the right pictures of Abby's birth, it's okay. Because at least I have Abby.
And if I have to abandon my breastfeeding, then I will do it. I'll cry about it, but if it has to be done, then I can do it. Some parents never have the opportunity to even try.
And if Abby has to have an IV in her head for a short period of time, I can handle it. There are some children who have permanent IV's for much scarier reasons.
I've cried lots of tears today. They started out as tears for myself... because this is Not What I Planned. But tonight, the tears have turned to tears of gratefulness.
My eyes have been opened today to my selfish nature and self-centeredness. I know I have a right and an instinct to be worried and concerned for my baby. And tears for those reasons are okay. But all of the other things I've pouted about... pictures, unfinished projects, lack of sleep... well, those things just really don't matter that much in the grand scheme of things.
And so this is Not What I Planned.
And that's okay. It will be okay.
I have cleaned and reorganized my pantry, laundry room, kids' bathroom, hall closets, and storage rooms. I've purged and purged some more. I've sold clothes and cleaned closets and organized clothing to keep. I've switched kids rooms, had rooms painted, purchased new furniture and hung pictures.
I've made lists, crossed items off of those lists, and then made new lists.
Why?
Partly because I was "nesting" and partly because it's just who I am. I like to have things in order... especially when I know there is change coming. It makes me feel more calm; gives me a false sense of control.
And as the birth of Abby drew closer, I felt more desperate than ever to have things in place. To have a plan. To have control over my life.
Bringing home new babies has not historically gone well for me. And as much as I love having a newborn, most of my memories of newborn babies are associated with stress, lack of sleep, and crying. Lots and lots of crying.
All of my children have had colic. And all of them have had horrible sleep problems as a result. Colilc is the unexplainable, incurable, untreatable, medical mystery that plagues infants for months and months on end. And for anyone who has experienced it, you know that it not only plagues the babies, but the parents as well. The endless crying is not limited to the infant. As the parent, your inability to soothe and comfort your baby often drives you to the point of desperation.... tears upon tears.
So when I think of bringing home a newborn miracle, I can't help but think of heartbeat CD's, chiropractic treatments, vacuum cleaner white noise, hours upon hours of painful crying, walking around the house in the wee hours of the night, shhhing, swaddling, bouncing, doctor appointments, inclined beds, acid reflux medications, dietary changes, and desperation. Lots of desperation.
And that makes me feel completely out of control. A feeling I don't handle well.
So in the back recesses of my hormonal mind, I think I thought if I could control every other thing in my life, perhaps I could survive another bout with a colicky baby. Without being completely aware of it, I was trying to plan for it; control it.
And so I made lists; planned for Abby to arrive into my controlled, planned environment.
Only it didn't happen that way.
Instead of going in for a scheduled, planned induction on Friday, February, 17th, I went to the hospital on Wednesday night, February 16th. I spent all of Wednesday battling a stomach bug that not only left me dehydrated with contractions; I wasn't able to complete my very long list of items to be accomplished on Wednesday & Thursday in anticipation of Abby's birth.
And so I went to the hospital...
with many uncrossed items on my lists;
without a packed bag for myself or the baby;
without taking a "night before" picture of my belly as I had done with all of my other kids;
without a back up camera battery;
wearing pajamas and no make up;
feeling completely and desperately out of control.
Today is Sunday, February 19th and I'm still sitting in a hospital bed at Wesley.
I feel like screaming....
This is NOT What I planned!
Abby was born on Thursday... the morning after I came, unprepared, to the hospital. No one made it to her birth. We don't have a single picture of me holidng her right after she was born.
Not What I Planned.
The kids didn't get to come to meet her on Thursday, wearing the special shirts I had made for the special occasion of meeting their new baby sister. Instead, Noah came home from school and began vomiting. Later that night, Emily and Molly got to come to meet their sister. Molly kissed the baby on the head, held her, and then went home and threw up.
Not What I Planned.
We didn't go home on Friday.
Not What I Planned.
Intead we went home on Saturday at 4:00 pm. I took a shower; eager to take the scrapbook worthy "going home picture" of Abby in her new outfit. I got her dressed and posed. Vance held up the camera and the battery instantly died. So we have no "going home" pictures of our 4th child.
Not What I Planned.
We finally made it home on Saturday evening. The kids were so excited. We had a nice dinner and Abby slept comfortably in her new inclined "Nap Nanny" that I purchased in anticipation of needing an inclined bed.
And then I fed her. She threw it up. I fed her again. She threw it up. She cried. And cried. And cried. She was in pain; obvious terrible pain in her stomach. We did not sleep a wink. We consulted with after hours doctors, took rectal temperatures, and ultimately found ourselves driving BACK to the Wesley ER 12 hours after we left.
Not What I Planned.
We had to wait for two hours in the main Wesley ER. It was awful. As we were checking in, a young girl came in with a horizontal cut across her neck. No kidding... as if someone had tried to slit her throat. Spending time in that ER was an eye opener to a whole other world that we are fortunate not to have to witness very often.
When we finally got to a "bay" in the awful ER, they told me they would have to do bloodwork, an Xray, an Ultrasound, and start an IV... in her head.
Not What I Planned.
We were admitted for continued observation with no plan for dismissal. Tonight marks the fifth night I have slept in a hospital bed. Slept being a very relative term as my total hours of sleep since Abby was born approximates less than 10 hours.
Not What I Planned.
I have been ordered to stop breastfeeding and give formula for the next feedings to see if makes a difference in Abby's stomach pain. I'm engorged, sad, and irritated that my "perfect nutrition" could potentially be causing her misery. So I'm pumping and saving, but still hoping that I won't have to cease nursing her.
Not What I Planned.
No one knows what is wrong. Doctors say it's too early for it to be colic. They say newborns shouldn't cry out in terrible gas pain at 2 and 3 days of age. They've never seen a newborn cry in such pain for no reason. But they don't know what I have lived.
And so we are still here; hoping she will improve and desperately hoping that we are not destined for the same months of misery and desperation that we have had with the past children.
As I said, I feel like screaming...
This is NOT What I Planned!
BUT...
I am sitting here therapeutically writing this in a place that I have been fortunate enough to have never been before... a pediatric floor in a hospital.
As I type, there is a little girl circling the floor on a tricycle wearing her pink PJ's. She is singing as she rides in circles on the floor of a hospital... she is not outside as many other children are on this gorgeous day. But she's still singing and smiling.
And there is a little boy next door who is a playing a make believe drum. He has no hair. His room has been occupied for quite some time as is evident by the play space that has been set up inside the tiny square space. There are other children in his room playing Nintendo. They are not outside playing tag or basketball like many other children their age are on this Spring like day. But he is still playing his drum and laughing.
So as much as I want to scream and cry and pout about my life not going like I had planned, all I have to do is look outside my door to realize that my "unplanned" situation is virtually nothing compared to the "unplanned" situations many other parents and children face.
I can't even imagine how badly they want to scream...
This is NOT What I Planned!
And so I'm doing my best to learn from this unplanned situation.
I fear change. I fear being out of control. I fear the unknown. I fear... a lot.
But I cannot control my life... no matter how many lists I make or rooms I organize.
My life and the lives of my children are in the hands of the One who gave us life. And He does not want me to fear. He does not want me to worry. Or have anxiety. And most importantly, He does not want me to hold fast to my own plans. Or wallow in selfishness.
He wants me to let go; to rely fully and totally on Him. To trust. Not my plan, but His.
And so tonight, even though I feel sad about some of the things that are happening in my life; I'm much more sad for the others I know (and those that I don't) whose "This is Not What I Planned" is so, so much more difficult than mine.
And if I have to give up dairy again, then I will. It is a minor sacrifice.
And if I have to go through months and months of sleepless nights again, then I will try to remember those who have sleepless nights in a hospital while I am awake.
And if I don't have the right pictures of Abby's birth, it's okay. Because at least I have Abby.
And if I have to abandon my breastfeeding, then I will do it. I'll cry about it, but if it has to be done, then I can do it. Some parents never have the opportunity to even try.
And if Abby has to have an IV in her head for a short period of time, I can handle it. There are some children who have permanent IV's for much scarier reasons.
I've cried lots of tears today. They started out as tears for myself... because this is Not What I Planned. But tonight, the tears have turned to tears of gratefulness.
My eyes have been opened today to my selfish nature and self-centeredness. I know I have a right and an instinct to be worried and concerned for my baby. And tears for those reasons are okay. But all of the other things I've pouted about... pictures, unfinished projects, lack of sleep... well, those things just really don't matter that much in the grand scheme of things.
And so this is Not What I Planned.
And that's okay. It will be okay.
Friday, February 17, 2012
FOUR
On Thursday afternoon, at 12:10 pm,
Abby Grace joined our family.
She weighed 7 pounds, 7 ounces,
was 19 1/2 inches long,
has dark, dark brown hair,
and is perfect in every way.
We were lucky and blessed to have THREE...
But we are even luckier to be blessed with FOUR!
FOUR to love,
FOUR to worry about,
FOUR to laugh with,
FOUR to teach,
FOUR to be frustrated by,
FOUR to hug,
FOUR to guide,
FOUR to discipline,
FOUR to discipline,
FOUR to encourage,
FOUR to play with,
FOUR to cherish.
FOUR blessings.
Welcome to our family Number FOUR!
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Love * 5
Valentine's Day 2012
Celebrating Love * 5
{Kids' Valentines for Classmates}
They both did the majority of the assembly by themselves!
{Teacher Valentine Gifts}
For the teachers, I traced the kids' hands and cut them out. They decorated both sides of the hands with crayons and stickers.
Noah wrote his own message and I helped Emily write hers. In between the cut out hands was a tube of "pink petals" hand cream!
{Emily dressed with a HEART}
Emily was BEYOND excited to go to school! She kept holding her Valentine saying... "I dig you, Emily"! She could not wait to hand out her special Valentines... especially to her teacher, Miss Brenda!
{Noah's Valentine Party at School}
The 1st graders played a "Guess Who I Am" game. Noah had the hardest one... Michelle Obama! I was proud of him when he was told that his person "lived in the White House", he immediately said "Barak Obama"! He had no idea who Michelle was, but at least he knew who the President of the USA is!
{2nd Annual "Labor of Love" Valentine Dinner}
I started this tradition last year and even though I didn't do all of the wonderful activities throughout February like I did last year, I was bound and determined to make sure that I treated my family to a fancy dinner to celebrate our love... for the last time as a Family of FIVE! In a matter of days, our love will expand once again as our family grows to SIX!
{On the Menu}
Bread Crumb Baked Chicken
Mashed Potatoes
Noodles
Fruit Salad
Chocolate Cake Pops
{Dinner by Candlelight)
The kids were pretty fascinated by the candlelight! After Emily and Molly finally ceased blowing out the candles, we enjoyed dinner by candlelight.
Before we ate, we said our meal prayer and then went around the table telling each family member what we loved about them.
NOAH
loves that Emily is nice and shares...
loves that Molly is sweet...
loves that Daddy has a good job...
loves that I spend time with them.
EMILY
loves that Noah has toys...
loves that Molly plays babies...
loves that Daddy goes to work...
loves that I stay home with them.
{Dessert - YUM}
Everyone ate a good dinner (including Emily after making a quick trip to the "time out" chair)and so we finished our "fancy dinner" with chocolate Valentine cake pops! Noah and Molly both devoured two immediately!
{Valentine Gifts}
I always got a little gift from my parents on Valentine's Day and so I have continued that tradition with my children too.
NOAH - Coloring Book, 2 Junie B. Jones Books, "HEARTS" card game
EMILY - Dress the Ballerina Sticker Book, Princess paint book, "GO FISH" cards
MOLLY - Pink Sock Monkey, Count the Hearts Book, Colors & Shapes Cards
It was our last Valentine's Day as a Family of FIVE and it was a sweet
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
The Last Time
After a month of insane "nesting", I have been laying down, on my left side, for the past 48 hours. My pregnant body has finally given out on me and I've been forced to stop all of my incessant projects.
As I lay here, with lists of unfinished projects flashing through my mind, I am feeling emotionally overwhelmed. Overwhelmed for a variety of reasons...
because I have so many uncrossed off items on my "to do" lists....
because my hormones are raging and crying just seems to be a natural side effect....
because I'm in excruciating pain; worse than giving birth kind of pain....
because all of my plans to prepare for baby have been interrupted...
But also because the down time is forcing me to think about the impending birth of my daughter. And whether or not it will be the last time...
But then again, it might not.
As I lay here, with lists of unfinished projects flashing through my mind, I am feeling emotionally overwhelmed. Overwhelmed for a variety of reasons...
because I have so many uncrossed off items on my "to do" lists....
because my hormones are raging and crying just seems to be a natural side effect....
because I'm in excruciating pain; worse than giving birth kind of pain....
because all of my plans to prepare for baby have been interrupted...
But also because the down time is forcing me to think about the impending birth of my daughter. And whether or not it will be the last time...
- the last time I feel the movements of a tiny miracle inside of me
- the last time I wash up tiny pink gowns and sleepers in anticipation of the sweet baby who will soon wear them
- the last time I prepare a diaper bag
- the last time I dress up a baby crib with sweet baby bedding
- the last time I purchase itty bitty diapers
- the last time I see the excitement of my older children as they kiss my big tummy
- the last time I think about baby names
- the last time I feel the "nesting" instinct and the excited anxiety that comes with welcoming a new baby
- the last time...
I can't believe that nine months have passed and that the time is almost here. In all honesty, the past nine months have been hard. Very hard. Physically and emotionally.
From a physical standpoint, there are many reasons I am happy to be nearing the end of this journey. As Vance said to me a week or so ago, my body "just isn't made" for having lots of babies. My body doesn't handle the physical stress very well. And this fourth go around has proved to be tougher, much tougher, than ever before. Even as I type, I'm dealing with an extremely painful side effect of pregnancy that has not plagued me in the past. One that has forced me to pray over whether or not I will have surgery in the coming days... at 38 1/2 weeks gestation.
And there have been emotional challenges as well. I won't detail them, but this pregnancy has taken its emotional toil not only on me, but on the other members of my immediate and extended family as well.
So given all of the "challenges" (although they still pale in comparison to what others have to deal with; which makes me feel guilty for even calling them challenges...) that having a fourth baby has presented to my family, it seems logical and reasonable that I would be able to definitively say with confidence that this will be the last time.
That this is our fourth and final child.
But I can't do it.
I won't do it!
As I've busied myself amidst a mirage of insane "nesting" projects in the past few weeks, I've been reminded over and over how quickly time passes and that babies don't last long...
I cried when I packed up the Thomas the Train set and placed it high up on a closet shelf; saving it to be handed on to my grandchildren one day.
I cried when I took these pictures...
It was the last night that Noah slept in his upstairs room. I remember, like it was yesterday, taking the picture on the very first night he slept in this room; days before Emily made her way into the world. And now it is repainted, with different furniture, awaiting another new sibling. And Noah sleeps in a different room... a bigger one for my much bigger boy.
I cried when I opened up these...
Nearly seven years of clothing that I carefully selected and dressed my firstborn in. As I pulled out outfit after outfit, I could vividly remember Noah wearing these clothes; what we did while he wore them; how "easy" and carefree those days seemed in comparison to the chaotic days of today. And although the clothes had to go and they all went to lovely friends, it still saddened me to think that one of my children would not wear these clothes again.
I cried as I typed all of those words; just thinking about it all!
Now I could blame all of these emotions on crazy pregnancy hormones. And I'm sure that hormones do play a part in my heightened emotion. But I can not, and will not, blame pregnancy insanity for 100% of my emotion and unwillingness to declare this to be the last time.
As I've mentioned before, my heart changed when we embraced the historic and unwavering teaching of the Catholic Church on artificial contraception and sterilization. I've shared my stories about embracing Natural Family Planning here and here and here.
It is that "heart change" that leads to my emotion over whether or not this will be the last time. The more I've embraced a general openness to life, the more my heart has opened towards the number of children I would like. And the harder it has become to be definitive and final in thinking about the size of my family.
It has been a shift in thought for me; a letting go of the selfishness and society norms and an acceptance of the transformation that so-called challenges can bring (as expressed here). I don't know exactly how to put it into words. Natural Family Planning changes your heart. It just does.
So in my frenzied and heightened state of emotion, I am more grateful than ever before for the Church's teaching. For without it, I might be inclined to make a rash decision I might one day regret. I might actually believe myself when I tell myself that I can't possibly do this again... that it has to be the last time.
Even though, at this moment, I feel like this should and might very well be the last time, I have great peace in knowing that a decision of that magnitude is not mine alone to make. It brings me great comfort to know that even though Vance and I may feel like our family is complete with four children, should God have other plans for us, we will trust and embrace those plans. Because He knows best. And we have not, and will not, do anything to artificially remove Him from planning our family.
So as I continue to lay here in bed, I am intentionally holding on to the voracious and miraculous movements in my belly with a little more focus than I have in the past. Because I know that it might be the last time I feel the specialness of them.
And that is all I need to know to calm my emotional, anxious, and overwhelmed heart!
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