I watch my sons playing together often... They are so creative it makes me envious at times. They can build a paper city across the living room, each adding pieces here and there, and their imaginations run wild. They talk and giggle, then fight with each other about what goes where, and who gets to put stuff where they want, but all the while - oblivious to the rest of the world.
I watch them come to a disagreement. I try SO HARD to not step in. My oldest gives up at a certain point and just needs HIS own time. Quiet time in his room, so I gently steer a heartbroken little brother away. I know how he feels; I often crave that alone time myself. My boys. They can drive me absolutely up the walls some days. But I adore them. Absolutely. ADORE them.
Once upon a time, two pink lines told me I was expecting my third child..
An unexpected surprise from a breathtaking trip to the island of the Bahamas. It was celebrated. 8 1/2 months later, we welcomed our gorgeous daughter. But when I saw those lines, I had HUGE doubts. Unlike the ones I had when expecting my second.
What was I doing to my firstborn by bringing another child into our home? Would he resent his big-brother role? When his little brother arrived he was enthralled. He held his brother, snuggled with him, touched his fingers and peeked under his hat to see his ears. He was soon making his brother smile, then laugh. He cheered his brother on through each new stage. My oldest LOVED having a baby brother. But now ANOTHER sibling was coming. I was terrified. Will I have enough love in my heart for a third child? How is it even possible? OF COURSE IT IS POSSIBLE.
And still I doubted.
Yet when their baby sister arrived I saw a new side to each of my sons. They worried. They helped. They were so quick to ask what she needed, and if she was warm enough, or hungry, or if she was tired. And they would rush to be the first one to give her the pacifier or a baby doll. They adore her. Don't get me wrong, she irritates the hell out of them at times, but when I walk into one of their bedrooms and find my oldest leading a reading session and the younger two sitting there listening intently - I melt. They all love each other.
Two more pink lines later. My energy was sapped, my patience is completely lowered. The big surprise this time. Although, much-celebrated, again the doubt and guilt. Only now the doubt and guilt were doubled. Just look at them, playing together, loving each other...then the screaming, yelling, fighting, teasing... TIMES FOUR NOW. It will happen. What have I done? What will a fourth child mean? How will this little one fit in; is someone always going to be the third wheel, left out, feelings hurt, tears falling?
Will my oldest who is TRYING so hard to become responsible, grow to feel that we asked too much of him? More responsibility, less responsibility, I never know what's right. He's so small, the oldest of my babies. So big and yet so small. He is my heart. HE made me a mother. His little brother - is so sensitive and loving. So curious and sweet. I don't want my guy to feel forgotten, overlooked, invisible in his position as neither oldest nor youngest. And what will it mean for my daughter? Right now she is her daddy's PRINCESS. Daddy walks in the door and the WORLD comes to a STOP. What if this mystery package contains a girl? Will she be willing to share? Will she understand that daddy has enough love in him for TWO princesses? THAT should be interesting. Then there is me? More children than hands, myself spread yet more thin. I don't want to be the impatient mother, the too-tired mother, the no-not-today-maybe-tomorrow mother, lacking both time and energy. I am afraid. Maybe their lives would be different if they were onlies - maybe we'd do more, explore more, travel more, tackle more, I don't know - but this gift of each other is something I could never wish away.
Their excitement over the new baby is infectious. My 6 year old can hardly wait. The youngest one pokes and prods my growing belly, asking question after question - "Mama, is baby sleeping? eating? pooping? ready to come out now? - and finishing with a hug and kiss before pulling my shirt back down. My oldest - he has no doubts, no fears. He simply embraces and I have so much to learn from him. I ask him how he feels about another baby coming and he just tells me, he will make sure his stuff gets put away, because he doesn't want it broken - and he will change diapers - but not the smelly ones. He's a pretty neat kid. Oh and SLEEP. Yeah... What IS sleep anymore? I've been exhausted all day. After all, in celebration a new baby coming my three year old decided it was the perfect time to stop sleeping through the night in her bed. So I attempt to bring her back to her bedroom, or my husband attempts. Not having it.... Crying, whining for Mama, it can go on ALL NIGHT. So I cave, and let her in the bed and think I can just go back to sleep after she settles back to sleep. But no. The cruel twist of fate known as Pregnancy Insomnia strikes again. Instead of grasping these last nights of uninterrupted sleep before the baby arrives, I lay awake for hours. My brain refuses to turn off. My loose pregnancy joints begin aching. My pregnancy bladder demands yet another trip to the bathroom. My swelling chest begins to throb and then I begin to freak out about how insane things are going to get when the baby gets here. Nothing like overreaction at two o'clock in the morning. THATS when I suddenly remember how incredibly excruciating natural childbirth is. And yet I have done it... THREE TIMES. God help me. I share this with my husband at two in the morning and he reminds me, I didn't DIE the other times and falls back into his deep sleep... :/ Thanks for the pep talk Babe.
It was a busy day yesterday and it is late. I waited a few minutes after I heard the giggling stop from their rooms and and I opened their door, and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. There they are. Sleeping, peacefully. Snoring loudly...I wonder what they are dreaming about. Becoming a mother was always something I wanted in life. THIS... is a gift. This new baby, tumbling around in my belly is an incredible gift. This new little brother or sister will only add to their joy. 30 weeks and the end is drawing near. I am feeling its urgency pressing into my days. I am finding myself drawing inwards and yet I am so needed, so many needs, when I just want to be somewhere alone. I am tired, so tired. I am even afraid. Afraid of pain. Afraid of being responsible for more needs. Afraid of my own frailty. But some things lately are saving me:
Another mother's baby, with sparkling eyes and round cheeks and an easy smile. I remember - oh yes, THIS is why - and the hard times don't feel so heavy anymore. Soon, I will hold my own tiny person in my arms.
Small things.... A song. A list. An iron pill. A nap. A square of dark chocolate - filled with salted caramel. A walk to the mailbox. A kiss from my toddler, help from my sons, a touch from my husband. So many small things that are steadying my world right now.
My children who forgive me when I blow up at them again. and AGAIN. Patience, went out the window in month 3.
My incredible husband. This man wakes up every morning and goes to a job he LOATHES, and then comes home some days to dishes unwashed and laundry piled up and a screaming 3 year old, 2 sons who are fighting like pit bulls, an undercooked On-Cor dinner and a frazzled, exhausted, emotional mess of a wife and he smiles, hugs and helps. I have NO CLUE what I would do without him. None. Love him. And even on days like the above, I wouldn't change my life. I can do this. At least I THINK I can do this...
We are all so very blessed. And it is my promise to this baby, as with the others before him/her, to always be what I wished and always wanted for myself. Mom. Arms open, heart full, accepting, loving, nurturing, understanding and supportive. My promise to them always.
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