Lovely Mess

The days have flown like clouds, 

all helter skelter and beyond my reach.

How else would these seven weeks 

have passed so quickly?

This felt like yesterday:

About four days before delivery day.

In the car and on the way to the hospital!

And then, 

he was here.

Just like that.

Birth days are fleeting.
Brief and radiant eyelets in time.

They are my most favorite days.

It's a beautiful trauma, 

fighting to bring your child into the world.

Exciting, scary, gory, ruthless, brilliant.

You, the mother: 

the conduit for a new, little being  

constructed of matter and magic.
A harrowing passage.

Birth days are truly powerful. 

You meet this fresh, little person,

the one you knit together.

And right then and there,
your family begins anew.

It's epic, this change.

It's also hard.

Honestly, it's really hard.

If you have other kids, 

they feel pushed aside.
Tantrums and general mayhem ensue.

Your partner might feel the same.
Not so much with the tantrums,
but you can sense their expectation
that normalcy should soon return.

Fact: in the beginning,
there's no such thing as normal.

Venturing out is no small feat,
even without your baby.
Nor is it as cathartic as hoped.

Thanks to leaking mammary glands
and the irritatingly deep-seated desire
to hurry home, personal time
is on hiatus.

And sleep.
You know that glorious thing
where you rest your aching body
for a period of time?
Yeah, forget about that.

And chores.
Seriously, who has time
for laundry and vacuuming
when there's a tiny human
attached to your chest?

As the newly anointed mother 

{whether for the first or fourth time},

you are worn thin.

Your days are foggy.

Your breasts hurt.
Your temper is short.

You cry easily.

You're still wearing maternity clothes.

And everything is spattered
in breast milk, urp and/or poop.
Everything.

But all that aside, 

the relief is palpable.

Your baby has found you.
You have found one another.

And he's just as he should be.
Thank God. 

All the aforementioned craziness
- this new and unhinged life of yours...
it's all part of the 

lovely mess.

There is no dry-run.
This. Is. It.

Days such as these are numbered,
the truly golden ones.
You are experiencing
some of the finest.

So let go of the ridiculous notion that
having a baby and being a mother
is orderly or perfect.

Notions drag you down.

It's something I'm working on,
shedding my notions.

If I could live within these days forever,
with all their hectic imperfections,
I surely would.

Because I've birthed my baby,
and he's heavenly.
Chubby and squirmy and soft.

 All that matters is him and this tribe of mine.

Welcome earthside, love. 

We'll show you around.

Here and Now

The end is near. 

I can feel it in the heft of my stomach.

I can hear it in the labor of my breathing.

I can track it in those hollow, in-between moments 

when I've gone somewhere else, 

my surroundings forgotten 

and those around me left wondering 

where I've disappeared to for a beat of time.

Until this 39th week of pregnancy, 

little guy has hardly slowed my roll. 

All the pregnancies have been this way.

Not that I don't fight through 

a brutal first trimester, 

or experience the 

holy-bloody-hell-what-is-happening 

of labor and delivery.

But I know how good I've got it: 

baby-making comes pretty dang easy to me.

There are always the crap times, though.

Mine are the first fifteen to twenty weeks,

and, now, this last bit. 

Today was extra special.

And by special, I mean shitty 

{save for the morning, 

'cause I hung out with a good friend}.

Basically, I hit a wall with the Littles.

There was a lot of yelling and not a lot of patience.

There were tears and an over-abundance of time outs.

I can blame it on this nasty cold, 

which has turned my head into a throbbing snot-ball.

Or I could chalk it up to the pressure 

of a belly that's ready to explode outward, Alien-style.

Either work.

But I still feel bad.

Because they're such good kids. 

Seriously. 

They're really, really good. 

And I don't want this last week 

of mothering only three 

to feel negative.

For my sake and theirs, 

I want these coming days

to soften the blow of what's to come.

Like a cozy, mommy hug that sticks to their ribs.

Baby's arrival is a wonderful thing, 

but it's also a new thing. 

A world-rocking, huge thing 

- one that comes in an adorably small and fussy package.

So, despite the cold and this quickly failing body,

I'm going to dig deep,  

because my tribe deserves it.

And I deserve it, too -

 to leave this time of my life behind on a high note.

To love my people, the ones in the here and now,

with my whole heart. 

I'm not sure what that looks like, exactly,

but it sure doesn't include another afternoon like this one.

Perhaps a few more bedtime stories, 

an extra treat in the lunch box,

a lovey snuggle with The Russian. 

Definitely more hugs and kisses.

Love for all. 

That, I can handle. 

And baby will feel it, too.

I just know he will.

So, in this home stretch of 

last-minute plans,

endless pee breaks, 

and round ligament pain, 

I will shoot for love.

Love for my tribe and the here and now.

As For the Rest

The countdown has begun. 

Baby #4 will join our family in approximately fourteen days. 

Baby #4. Fourteen days.

I am simultaneously thrilled and exhausted just thinking about it.

There's so much I want to do between now and then:

weed the garden patch,

fill planter boxes, 

start my cutting garden, 

organize my garage, 

plan my picture wall, 

make frozen dinners, 

keep up on laundry, 

finish my manuscript, 

get the nursery in order. 

Pretty sure I could go on and on. 

It's not as though my life stops with the arrival of this newborn, 

but anyone who's experienced this epic life event knows that, 

in some ways, it will. 

At least for a time.

So, I'm focusing on the manageable things: 

helping Mister and Honeybee complete their science fair projects, 

making Mac's birthday special,

finding a few one-on-one hours for each of my Littles, 

scheduling a date night with The Russian.

As for the rest...well, we'll see.  

In the meantime, 

I'll sit here for a moment and feel this baby 

stretch his legs and roll about.

He'll hiccup for a bit and then settle down for a nap.

We'll share this body for a time longer 

and watch the weeds grow. 

See you on the other side. :)

The Feels

Looking back is a mixed bag, isn't it? {photo from our
epic road trip in late June}

Our winds have shifted.

It's a new year: gloriously even 2016.

We've moved into a new home: one that is big and requires very little work.

We've left the city behind: suburbia, thank you for the lovely welcome.

This ol' body is cooking up a new life {yet again}: baby #4, due in March.

These are Holy Crap sort of changes, right?

Indeed.

Sometimes it feels as though all that defined our little family unit 

has morphed into something else.

And yet, if I put everything down on paper, 

it doesn't look so grandiose. 

Besides the big-ticket items 

{hello, home purchase and in utero addition}, 

a lot of the changes have been little.

Subtleties only we would notice. 

What feels life-altering to one person is a footnote to another.

Isn't that often the way of things? 

It can make one feel invisible.

Or, one could find comfort in the knowledge that
all the dramas and trivialities 

are simply blips on a larger-scheme map. 

Like toddlers playing side-by-side, 

we're together but we're not always aware of what the other is up to.

Each and every one of us is experiencing 

the glorious ups and heart-breaking downs of life. 

And we're doing it collectively. 

Sort of.

It's not that the people in our lives don't care. 

That's not it at all.

Sometimes, the details we pass along are unclear. 

Sometimes, there isn't time for a good face-to-face chat.
Sometimes, your people have  their own priorities to sort out.
No offense.

Then, suddenly, the stars align,
and a chance to catch up presents itself.

And all of your Big Changes pour out

 in a clumsy monologue over the phone 

while you're waiting in the drop-off line at school. 

Or you're scurrying around the kitchen 

trying to scratch up something for dinner.

We get pretty good at boilerplate updates - 

a down and dirty synopsis of all that's happened of late.

Which is just fine, because living is super busy work,

 and expecting another person to get mired
in the details is a lot to ask.

But doesn't it feel really good
to share your heart from time to time?

To sit down and get all those unadulterated feels out there.

To hear what your confidant has to say.

I think, as a parent in the trenches of raising so many Littles, 

those authentic, sharing moments are much harder to come by.

On most days, a phone call
or text exchange is all I can muster.

But that doesn't mean the urge to connect and share isn't there. 

It's just buried under other, more pressing
{and sometimes mundane} things, 

like meetings and swimming lessons and Costco runs. ;)

But I'll take what I can get, and today, this post has helped.

It's given me the perspective to see 

that what I thought would be a detailed, purge-style post 

about all that transpired over the preceding months

is water under the proverbial bridge. 

Best to separate the chaff from the wheat.

So, here's my synopsis, brief but heartfelt:

~ The reno, listing, burglary, and move of last spring were all pretty terrible,

 and I wish to unremember them altogether.

~ We left all that crap behind by taking an epic road trip with our kiddos. 

Over three-thousand miles logged in eleven days! 

It was fantastic,
and I came home pregnant.

The view from the top of Vail Mountain.

~ We crashed at my parents' place over the summer, 

and they graciously let us take over their home 

as we house-hunted and decompressed.

Summer at the 'rents house.

~ Much of the summer and early fall is a blur of fatigue and nausea, 

but somehow we managed to celebrate a milestone anniversary
and buy a wonderful home in a beautiful area!

A night in downtown Portland, OR, then off to the coast. 

Hiking near our new house.

~ We spent our first-ever Christmas at home. 

No travel, no overnights - nada.

It was magical, and we can't wait to do it again.

~ I'm now well into the third trimester with
our fourth Little - a boy!
He's highly anticipated, 

undoubtedly a rock star baby, 

and likely to make a rush appearance 

in the first couple weeks of March.

Our social media announcement for the baby.

And now you're caught up. 

Thanks for the chat and the feels. :)