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.

Soft Curves

My second trimester was lovely. I felt great, I slept great, I breathed easy walking up and down stairs, and my bump made the perfect soccer ball shape under my maternity clothes. Most days I forgot I was pregnant. Ok, not really, but I had no complaints. 

And then the third trimester came in with a vengeance. Sleeping has become incredibly uncomfortable. With every waddle I feel the extra weight that's been added. The weeks leading up to when we'll finally meet our little guy seem never-ending. My clothes continue to get tighter, and I feel like a whale most of the time. I've been told more than once that I look like I'm ready to pop. And whenever I tell people I'm not due until the end of March they respond with "oh, you poor thing".

At the gym last week one of the front desk attendants told me I'm a lot bigger than I was with my other two. 

"Thanks! I still have two months," I responded with a fake smile. 

Then I watched as she floundered like a fish.

"But you still look great, like really great! You look so cute! I'm so glad you're here, it's so good to see you!" she said back pedaling her compliment--or insult, I'm still not sure which one it was.

Uh-huh.

I thanked her again, but this time for real. I felt bad that she felt so bad. I know she didn't mean to make me feel larger than life. I ran upstairs--and out of breath--to the elliptical vowing to not stop until I sweated off the pancakes I ate for breakfast that morning.  

It's Another Boy!

Poor, sweet Anna. We opened the pizza box together, and before our eyes, the ultrasound photo taped to the inside lid revealed what we had been waiting to find out for weeks.

"It's a boy!" Travis and I shouted together. 

Then Anna's little voice cried out: "But I don't want another brother!" I immediately looked down and saw her face drop and the tears begin to well in her eyes. My heart so full of joy broke a tiny bit for my first born who so desperately wanted a sister. It was as if she never wanted anything more in her life. Her own baby sister to hold and nurture and dress up in the sweetest little girl clothes. A sister to begin her huge family of sisters just like little orphan Annie--her ultimate dream. I hugged her and kissed her and told her what an amazing big sister she is to her little brother and will be to her new baby brother. I thought of all the things I could tell her to convince her that it's ok she's the only girl (for now). You'll get to have your own room someday. You'll be mommy and daddy's favorite girl. You'll get to keep all your dolls to yourself.