We Went Camping and I Survived

This essay was previously published on Parent.co.

We went camping for the first time as a family this past weekend. I went camping for the first time this past weekend. Like at a campsite, in a tent, in sleeping bags, on the ground, camping. 

Travis had wanted to go camping for some time. He wanted it to be “our thing.” He wanted our family to be a camping family. He was putting a lot of stock into this dream with a wife who had never camped before and the unpredictable nature of the weather app. 

“I’m going to take Anna camping for her birthday,” he told me back in September. Secretly I was relieved he didn’t invite me on their father/daughter trip. I wasn’t so sure I was ready to be among the bugs and the dirt and sleeping on the hard ground just yet. 

He made reservations at a campsite at a nearby lake. Anna’s third birthday came, and with it, a storm that was to last all weekend. They moved their camping trip indoors and set up the tent in our tiny living room. She had a blast. She had no idea this wasn’t real camping. 

But Travis did. He was ready for the real thing. He longed to be sitting by the fire roasting marshmallows and hot dogs, falling asleep under the stars, and waking up to the birds chirping and the cool air filling his lungs. And he wanted to experience it all with his family. 

Owen Lazarus's Birth Story

When I woke up on April 4, 2017, I never would’ve thought Owen Lazarus would be joining us that day. Even though I was six days overdue I resolved in my mind that I would eventually have to be induced later that week. He seemed awfully cozy in my belly and the early labor, that was really just a nuisance and exhausting, wasn’t giving any hints. Losing more of my mucus plug and the incessant contractions were a tease since beginning a few weeks prior.

My due date was March 29, and once that came and left us without Owen in our arms we told Travis’s mom, Terri, to come on down from Ohio. It was nice having her here to help with the kids while I rested before the big day.

The morning of the day he came I was so over being pregnant. I really shouldn’t complain. It truly is a blessing, being pregnant and all. But by the end, and especially since I was almost a week late, I was so tired of being uncomfortable and so tired of being tired. I knew nights of interrupted sleep would continue after Owen came but I found solace in knowing I would finally be able to sleep on my stomach and not have to carry 40 extra pounds around my midsection.

Grace

It's funny what adding one more kid to the mix will do to a family. In ours Baby Owen has brought joy, excitement, and wonder. He's also brought with him higher loads of laundry, less sleep for me, bigger messes from all, and more discipline for the older two. Talk about sanctification! Then there is this new ability I've acquired this time around to let things just slide off my shoulders.

As I recently skimmed through old posts I wrote following the birth of Theo I couldn't help but want to give my former self a huge hug. I didn't want to tell her everything was going to be OK and to cherish the moments because that wouldn't have helped. Those were hard times. Going from one to two kids was really, REALLY tough. It was one of the blocks I put in place as we contemplated having more. I remember how bad my eyes burned from the exhaustion of not sleeping more than 2 hours at a time while attempting to console a fussy baby night and day. I was drowning in laundry and dishes and to-do lists. And looking back now I know I didn't savor all the sweet and new things that come with a newborn. I say that because I don't remember any of it. How could I? I was running on a few hours of sleep here and there. I was just ready to move past it all and get back to a normal routine.

A Love Letter to My First Son

Dear Theo,

It feels like yesterday when I first met you, peering down over my still round yet quickly deflating belly, the same belly that held you carefully for 9 months. My legs were raised in the stir ups as Jan, our midwife, held you high so I could see your tiny arms and legs extending for the very first time.

And all I could say was, “I love him so much!” – my first words to you.

I never imagined having a little boy. Growing up in a family where the estrogen ran high I was unsure of how I was going to handle the nonstop energy of the opposite gender. Two years later I’m still scratching my head trying to figure you out. You’re loud, you like to believe you can jump from any height, you’re already talking about poop and calling everyone “poop”, I’m finding rocks in the laundry that you’ve collected in your pockets, and you always want to wrestle.

“You’re such a boy!” I yelled out one day after you came inside covered in mud. As I stripped you down to your diaper at the door I immediately contemplated how much Oxyclean solution I was going to have to use in order to remove all the stains.

“You can’t say that like it’s a bad thing,” your father called out to me from the other room.