Quick update.

At my last midwife appointment, my midwife said she thought I’d be having a baby within a week. Exciting… nervous. I’ve been through labor just enough times to know that there’s no expectation of anything concrete. Contractions, yes, a baby, yes, but time frame? Unknown. Scenario? No idea. I’ve had a baby after 32 hours of labor, I’ve had a baby after half an hour of labor. I’ve had one breech baby via c-section, one who I had all sorts of interventions with, one who was born at home unassisted, without any interventions whatsoever. I’ve had one who followed the textbook scenario, one who did anything but. But… fear and trepidation aside, I can’t wait to meet this baby. I look forward to being on the other side of this, and the knowledge that it has to end. Soon, even.

I washed up a handful of boy and girl outfits from storage and put them in a basket for the baby. They’ve been unfolded, folded, rearranged, and compared to each child’s photo album to see who wore what in recent days. Excitement is building. Pierce has donated many of his pairs of socks, no matter the size. If this is a girl… she’ll be wearing too big boy socks, compliments of Pierce. Time will tell, but I don’t see him being jealous. I hope I can still say that in a month!

35 weeks.

So you all may be slightly disturbed at just how large one baby belly can be at 35 weeks, a photo.

I have outgrown nearly all my clothes, I’m not quite to my due date, and the email I got this morning telling me of my stage in pregnancy stated that baby “just puts on weight for the next month”. Yippee. My midwife tells me this baby will more than likely tip the scales as my biggest baby. Sterling, Ruby, and Pierce were 9 lbs.-9 lbs. 2 oz., so I’m a bit intimidated by that thought.

Putting socks on at this point is my daily feat. Shoes that tie are out of the question.

How… disappointing.

I stayed home from church yesterday. Self diagnosis: bronchitis. I can’t remember the last time I was in my own house, entirely alone. Probably about 10.5 years ago. There’s usually a baby that stays home with me or a small toddler who isn’t capable of sitting in the pew with children and no parent. We don’t use a nursery, Blaine has duties during the service often, so me not being there means a likely noisy child. But… Pierce went and sat like a pro I’m told when Blaine had to leave. Amazing.

Anyhow. There I am, in a silent house, wondering what on earth I ought to do for what promised to be at least four hours of silence. I took a shower, briefly considered cleaning but quickly nixed that idea, read a chapter in a book, and decided on a nap.

I woke up four hours later when the front door flew open and my children piled back into the house.

Once I was over the adrenalin rush of being woke up like that, I couldn’t help but be disappointed. Alone for what turned into nearly five hours, and I slept through it. How… disappointing.

I do think I’m on the uphill climb though, thankfully. I don’t typically get completely incapacitated by illness, but this one has knocked me down. I love my new recliner, but I’ll be glad if I don’t ever have to sleep in it to keep upright enough to be able to breathe ever again. I’m so glad, if I had to get this, that it’s now, and not with a newborn in the house.

A newborn. Eek. It hit me last night. We’re about to have another baby. This pregnancy will end. Soon. 5.5 weeks to due date. Back to nursing, diapers, a child who cannot walk, and waking up in the night. Life’s about to get more interesting, my friends. I’m excited… and a wee bit curious how this will look. Chaos upon chaos.

Shifted purposes.

I am not enough.

There’s not enough of me to go around. I’m tired and sore and wishing the next weeks away, longing for the day I’ll feel normal again. For the day I feel normal again.

I can’t ever take the kids to the park enough times to suit me. The zoo pass sits lonely and unused far more often than I’d like. I haven’t played with my kids outside since the first time it snowed. That was at least a month ago. But lately, it’s not just “not enough”. It’s “not at all”.

The subject of “mommy guilt” has always confused me. Guilt about what? Lately, it’s all come crashing in on me. Guilt about everything. There’s something about pregnancy hormones that will do that to you.

And yet, as I lay in my bed last night, unable to sleep, I couldn’t help but wonder at the thought process. My children aren’t complaining. They rub my belly and look forward to the day they can hold their newest sibling. They take joy in serving me… most of the time… even if, in Pierce’s mind, it’s bringing me a Coke four times a day. (Since I bought the Coke to marinate deer meat, it’s an interesting gesture. Basically, it has him moving Coke from the box in the basement to the fridge in the kitchen because I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t want it. So I procrastinate and send him to put it in the fridge for me. We’re getting a huge stash up here, only to be taken back down… he must think that box will never, ever empty itself.) Liberty offers to make supper every single night. Eden loves to look through cookbooks to find me recipes to make with the ingredients we have. Sterling is the expert “stand on a stool and stir this” supper helper and Ruby loves to get things out of the garage for me. She usually comes back giggling with a tale of “I had to climb into the chest freezer to find the broccoli.” Such hardships, I’m sure.

I wonder. Is pregnancy a way to make me slow down? Is this an opportunity to teach my children service, empathy, and the value of offering to help instead of spend their time doing less fruitful activities? In my guilt over what I’m not doing with them these days, have I missed the bigger picture?

Our home is still functioning. The floors are swept… most often by an eight year old these days. Laundry is as caught up as it ever is. (You decide what that means!) My older two have learned how to sort, start laundry, switch loads, fold, and put away. The younger four are fabulous at taking laundry to the laundry room. School has happened every day, just like we always do. Grocery shopping is enough to make me need a nap – but my children pitch in and put groceries away and while I have yet to find the onion soup mix we bought last week… that’s minor. I’ve had more chances than normal to sit and read books to the kids, to snuggle up next to my little ones, to convince Pierce to take a nap – with me.

Maybe, just maybe, I need to look at this as a season to live differently, a chance to teach my kids things they’ve not learned yet about service, compassion, and empathy. Maybe, instead of seeing this as what they aren’t getting, I can see it as a chance to get something entirely different.

It’s hard. I’m thankful it’s not anticipated to be long term. But instead of looking at it for what it isn’t, I’m going to look at it for what it is. Guilt free.

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun… (Ecc. 3:1)

Shopping battles, missing ribs, and toy invasions.

Life has become mere endurance. At 32 weeks pregnant, I’m miserable beyond words. I. Hurt. Everywhere. But, baby kicks and rolls and from all appearances is doing fabulously. I was warned by my midwife to expect this one to be bigger than all my others, since he/she is already larger than most. My heaviest was 9 lbs. 2 oz. so I’m rather expecting to birth a three month old at this point. The constant question is whether I’m positive I’m not carrying twins, how sure I am of my due date, and if I’m done. Oh, and one particularly fun comment about being like one of those prize pumpkins that never stops growing. I hold onto the knowledge that I won’t be pregnant forever.

I bought new fabric for pillows. We might, by the end of tomorrow (because I need another pillow form, so that’s been added to today’s grocery list) have matching pillows on our not completely mismatched couches for the first time in history. I’m rather excited about this. No, it’s not nesting. I purchased the fabric the day after Christmas. Christmas sewing and dread for getting on the floor to cut out fabric had me putting off the sewing until now. But if my living room could be more intentional, that would be fun. Of course, the Lincoln Logs, the train set, the car basket, the Legos… it’s a toss up on whether I can win this battle.

Pierce got a handful of Tonka toys for his birthday last year. Sterling has had a dump truck since he was about two, so when I found a bunch of them on Craigslist, Pierce got them for his birthday. He loves them. They had, however, been used in the sandbox and lived outside or in the shed. Sterling begged to bring them in for Pierce when it got cold, willingly put them in the tub and scrubbed them until no sandbox remnant remained, and made his brother one very happy boy. My living room/school room now looks like this on a continual basis:

 

I’ve decided Sterling is just trying to balance out the boy toy/girl toy ratio. Or kill me, tripping on large wheeled toys in the night. Take your pick.

I told the kids to get ready for the day. The day consists of school and grocery shopping. Sterling feels like he’s headed into battle, apparently. This is what he came up with.

Last night I made barbecued pork ribs and baked potatoes and our own canned green beans for supper. I got all the kids’ plates dished up, and Ruby went to the garage fridge for more milk. She plopped the brand new gallon of milk down… on the edge of Sterling’s plate. Just like that, potato, beans, and pork rib went flying, catapulted toward nearby Pierce and the floor. Some of it landed on the table, some landed on the floor, but that rib simply disappeared. Brady (the dog) was not so very far away, and the fear that she’d snatched the meat was voiced. Even if she had, a pig rib vs. an eight pound dog seemed like an unlikely match. Surely something would be left. She can’t eat a bone that big that fast. And so the search continued. Everyone’s plates were checked for the extra portion, but no one found it.

It struck me as awfully funny. Eight people, searching floor, plates, counters, and curtains for one catapulted rib.

Finally, I spotted a bit of the sauce on the back of Pierce’s chair, and his chair became the focal point of the search. The rib was behind Pierce, on his chair. Supper was saved, Brady was innocent, and the idea of catapults was discussed.

Pretty sure I’m not going to forget the food flying through the air, plate and all, anytime soon though. Supper around here is never dull… but that was a new one, even for around here.

Persistence, pain, and learning personal hygiene...

Today was the Christmas party for the kids at co-op. It was exhausting, long, and now... It's over. Whew. Co-op is done until January, we start our break from schooling next week, and it feels like I've passed the first leg of surviving homeschooling for the year.

Tonight was my 27.5 week midwife appointment. Baby's head down! After one breech baby resulting in a c-section (Ruby), I was relieved to hear this baby is doing its part in cooperating. As achy as I've been lately, everything looks great with baby. Enduring the next twelve or so weeks could be interesting. Heartbeat's consistently 140. If I guessed, I'd say girl... but I'm rarely right. Just often enough to say "Yeah, you have a fifty percent chance of being right."

Yes, I accidentally scheduled my midwife appointment on co-op party day. Not the smartest thing I've ever done.

The four older kids got their free pizzas from Pizza Hut on the way home. Small town, I sent them in together to get the pizzas I'd called in. The young server asked if they'd be dining in. Four kids, ages five to ten, without an adult, dining on Book It pizzas, alone. I know it's a small town, but is that something they've had happen?!

Tammy, bless you for mentioning swipe on kindle. I had to Google it to find out what it was, but wow, has that made this process faster. I think it might even be faster than typing. Amazing.

Charlotte told me this morning that she'd put undies on already so I wouldn't have to tell her to cover her bottom. Progress, my friends. One of these years I might not have to remind them of these things. Right?! I finally told them I was starting a cavity fund and fining them a quarter each time noon rolled around and their teeth weren't brushed. None of them have yet to have a cavity, but I'm not sure how. My nagging skills have been finely tuned, and my pet peeve of such things is quite over it. Strangely enough, I have yet to collect anything for my cavity fund. Funny how money talks.

The kids managed to chop down the tree they were working on the other day all by themselves. They brought it to the house, recruited Blaine to set it up, and decorated it all by themselves. The light strands hang in clusters and the ornaments only cover the bottom two thirds of the tree, the star won't stay on the top because the branches are too soft and bend under pressure, and most of the ornaments have to hang from lights. But oh, the pride in the job they accomplished all on their own, together. This family of mine, with all of its interesting moments provided by many small children, is so different than the way I grew up - but I love it. Independence and teamwork are lessons built in if I just stop back and let them figure it out. Priceless.

Pregnancy: 23.5 weeks

While I’m not big on pregnancy update blog posts - or photos of me to remind me later of the misery – I thought it might be time to post one. I’m 23 5/7 weeks along, baby is growing and measuring well and stubbornly breech, and stretching the bounds of my larger maternity clothes.

Since I can’t seem to get my act together and get a photo when I’m dressed reasonably well, have makeup on and hair done, and Blaine’s here to do it, I took one this morning, after I had my makeup on. And then I turned off the flash so I didn’t blind all of you and squinted to take a photo and I realized if I just go for hair done and dressed I’d be golden either way.

We don’t know what we’re having and have no plans to find out until baby’s born. Sterling and Ruby were the only two that we did find out, and while that was fun, not knowing is more fun. Since my shed houses all baby clothes not worn to shreds by previous babies, we have clothes for both genders and, while the boys want another boy and the girls want another girl, I’ll be happy with whoever this baby turns out to be.

We plan another homebirth, hoping for a midwife in attendance this time… although I think I’d take another half hour labor again without complaint.

We don’t have names. We haven’t even talked about names. I have my favorites list, and just as soon as Blaine comes to the realization that my belly is going to take over the entire bed and one of us is going to end up on the couch - or I hit 40 weeks and labor is imminent, whichever comes first - he’ll decide it’s time to discuss names. Really, why rush these things?

This concludes pregnancy update #1. Update #2 will likely be when I’m 40 weeks and looking wider than I am tall. Likely.

I never imagined this.

These days are hard. School seems to drag on forever, co-op has become a stress like no other and keeps me awake at night, it’s all I can do to keep up with the house somewhat and laundry, Pierce is tearing the house apart as fast as I can put it back together and refusing to take naps many days, and my belly is bigger and causing me more pain than it’s ever been at just shy of 23 weeks.

It’s funny, as a kid, picturing motherhood didn’t include absolute exhaustion. It didn’t include frustration or anger or sticking to the floor when I stumble into the kitchen after consoling a child with growing pains at 3am. It didn’t include repeating myself over and over and over or searching for lost objects that I didn’t lose or potty training a single child for six months with limited success.

Strangely enough, I pictured lovely children, well-behaved, without all the work. I imagined clean, pressed (HA!) and smiling children. This just wasn’t what I imagined.

Messes. Oh, the messes. The laundry, the mountains of work without the energy to climb anything more than the path to the couch. The pure exhaustion and achiness that pregnancy brings. The unending meal preparation and the inability to feed my children one helping of anything that fills them up.

But.

I didn’t picture the discussions either. The talks of sin and Christ’s love. The discussions of those painful growing up moments that are inevitable.

The laughs. Oh, the laughs. The hilarious things that a child comes up with. The heart stopping moment when you find your two year old standing high in the air, perched on a tiny patch of instability. The baby kissing “his baby” in Momma’s belly, loving someone so unconditionally that they’ve never met, don’t fully understand, and who is taking up more and more of “their” lap space.

The different personalities. The ones I see myself in clearly, and the ones I don’t understand in the slightest because they are so unlike me. The ones who are word oriented and the ones who crunch numbers like nobody’s business. Outgoing. Shy. Energetic. Quiet.

If I had to describe them each in a word…

Liberty… perfectionist

Eden… scattered

Sterling… mathematical

Ruby… passionate

Charlotte… imaginative

Pierce… hungry

Yeah. I never pictured any of this. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The hardest thing I’ve done, and the only thing I can’t quit. Day after day, new struggles face me in the lives of these children. I never imagined this. But I’m having the time of my life – on the good days and the bad.

There will be pain.

After a crazy day that involved an ER visit and getting to know my midwife a whole lot better, I’m home, having convinced hospital personnel that I can recover from a kidney infection at home. I’ve never been so thankful for midwifery care, the ability to get a hold of my midwife in the wee hours of the morning, and her willingness to pick me up from home, take me to the ER, and be an advocate for me as I walked the maze of possible labor threats and renal ultrasounds. Not to be confused with rectal ultrasounds, which is what I heard. I had a mental conversation of “You’re going to do what?! Where?” Let’s be clear: all is external, and the kidneys are no where close to… that. Whew. I was just a bit out of it. Apparently. No drugs involved. Give the midwife her due: she barely laughed when the nurse left and I asked for clarification. Oh. My. Word.

So thankful for her. And dear friends who delivered dinner so that I could come home and not worry about cooking. And dear friends who prayed while I freaked out, fearful this baby was in grave danger. Thankful for a baby who’s heart beats strong and who decided to move far, far more than normal this stressful day, reassuring me all was well.

What a day. So thankful for God’s care, clearly displayed so many times today.

 

Update: Saw my midwife the next day. No signs of infection. Zero. Amazing. Sometimes, antibiotics are really, really good things.

I have a dream.

I dream a LOT when I’m pregnant. I have no idea if I dream when I’m not, because I never remember them. But when I am… it’s bad.

Last night, I dreamed I’d discovered this rare bug that stopped all other bugs from biting you. What I did with the bug, I’m not sure. But all other bug bites cease to exist once I’d found the cure all.

Can you tell we are dealing with a lot of bug bites right now?

So in my dream, I was famous. Everyone was amazed and excited at my discovery.

The next day, I got bit by a mosquito and died.

I know. Irony.

So, there I am, dead, and my husband wakes up to the horror of raising six kids on his own, and he has the utmost compassion.

“At least she made enough zucchini relish that we’ll never run out.”

Yeah, that’s what he said in his moment of grief. And then I woke up.

If I ever dream of fourteen cows, I’ll let you know.

The story of us. Part sixteen: now.

Read part one here.

Read part two here.

Read part three here.

Read part four here.

Read part five here.

Read part six here.

Read part seven here.

Read part eight here.

Read part nine here.

Read part ten here.

Read part eleven here.

Read part twelve here.

Read part thirteen here.

Read part fourteen here.

Read part fifteen here.

When I started this Saturday morning series, I had no idea exactly how it would go. There’s things I’ve missed that I’ve remembered later and thought I ought to have added. Stories that formed who I am, who my children and my husband are, the people we’ve become.

I didn’t imagine what the last post might look like. Even I didn’t see this coming.

In March 2014, a big (little) family will get a little bit bigger, Lord willing. I am pregnant again, and, having passed the point of both miscarriages, trying to gain confidence that this pregnancy will continue, that I will get to meet this little one. I am thrilled to be nauseous after having not been for the babies I lost, I’m exhausted, and excited to meet this new little one. I don’t know where we’ll put it, I know I’d like another homebirth, and I’m not sure what mothering seven will look like.

But I’m so excited to find out.

Sterling is voting for twin boys to even things out. I’m wondering how much he values his mother’s sanity.

Ruby is voting for twin girls just to spite Sterling. The thought makes my head spin.

I’m praying for healthy, full term, and mild mannered. The world can only handle so many Pierces.