That Bump In My Heart

Emerson walks downstairs with a dry night-time diaper and is so incredibly proud of himself.

Gus doing his best to be funny and make me laugh, clearly needing some love and approval.

Rosie looks up at me from her journey crawling around the living room and her eyes instantly crinkle with her biggest smile.

Guin sits next to me on the couch, reading a complete book without any prompting from me.

These little moments when that love just takes over my heart. When I feel awe and wonder that We made that thing. Isn’t it incredible?

Allowing these moments to make an imprint on my mind. To just sit in the now and breathe it in. To be grateful.

The more that I give attention to times like these, the more my mind searches for them. Throughout the day I find myself looking for those small things that I’m grateful for. I notice that when I get upset I’m quicker to get out of my rut and back on track.

Do you have a gratitude practice? Every day for one week, try writing down three things that you are grateful for and why. It doesn’t have to be long, but you have to truly feel grateful for them.

Notice the difference it brings to your day.

Where Are My Toes?

I have reached that point. I am so done being pregnant. I want to easily reach down and touch my toes. To even look down and see my toes. I am tired of having this big round belly getting in my way everywhere I go. It takes an extra oomph! To stand up and get going anywhere. My due date is one week away, but those seven days feel like seven years.

I have checked all the to dos off the ‘before baby is born’ list, the ones that I actually wanted to get done anyway! I don’t want to do any other things, fun or not, while I’m waiting for this baby. I am just ready to start labor, to be done with labor, and to be laying in bed with baby snuggled close on my chest. To feel his heart beating rhythmically against mine, to feel his tiny fingers wrap around one of mine. To breathe in his smell and hear that soft and so helpless newborn cry. My heart aches for this moment.

I feel as though I will be pregnant for the rest of my life, that this baby will never be born. I will be known world wide as The Woman Who Never Gave Birth or The Permanently Pregnant Lady. My baby will just continue to live inside of me, happy and content with no need to come out and see the rest of the world.

I know this isn’t physically possible, that baby will come sooner or later.

But can’t it be sooner?

Please?

Wired Differently

Nic and I are sitting outside on our porch step with cups of coffee in our hands. His: milk. Mine: Ghirardelli white chocolate powder and cream. With whipped cream on top. His: 1000 calories. Mine: negative 100 calories, obviously. It’s quiet and the kids are in bed. The summer evening is starting to cool a bit and the smell of fresh rain is in the air.

My mind is going a million miles a minute amidst all the peace and quiet, thinking of all the deep thoughts and questions I could share with him in this rare moment alone. “What’s your biggest fear?” “What would your dream life look like?” “How did that make you feel?” I want to reach his soul, the core of him. For him to ask these questions in return and to really want to hear my responses.

I look over at him and he’s staring off into the same distance as me. “What are you thinking?” I ask. “Nothing.” Comes his response.

NOTHING?! It’s not possible. How can you literally think about nothing? My mind cannot fathom this concept of thinking nothing. To just sit there. And not think? It doesn’t work. If I say I’m thinking of nothing, it’s because I don’t want to share what’s on my mind. There’s always something percolating in the back of my brain. Always some dots that are connecting and making sense, lighting up and whizzing around.

Our minds work so differently, and sometimes I wish he understood how mine worked a little bit more. That he could follow my train of thought and know where I’m headed before I even do. But if truth be told, I don’t always understand my own brain so how on earth can I expect him to understand it?

I also think that this difference brings a good balance; I get him to dig a little deeper and he pulls me back when I’m sunk too deep. If his mind worked the same as mine we would probably never get anywhere and just end up sitting in a fest for half of our lives.

There’s a reason we are wired differently.

Not Me

I was listening to a podcast the other day where two ladies were discussing some of their worst mother moments. In my head I was pitying them, and I thought “I’m so glad my kids don’t do that.” Then I did a double take, did I really just think that? My kids never do anything that I don’t want them to? If they are all perfect little angels then why am I so tired at the end of the day?

Then I started to notice the same pattern when out with my friends and their kids. “Your toddler still wakes up for a drink at night? Mine has been sleeping through the night since he was three months old. I can’t imagine how you do it!” Or “You need to bring 10 different snacks and 10 different toys so your kids will be entertained on our walk? Mine always sit nicely without needing anything when we go for walks.” “You have to entertain your kids when they’re awake and can never get anything done? I expect my kids to entertain themselves most of the time so that I can get things accomplished during the day.” (Score Me:3 You:0)

It’s not that I think other moms are bad moms, or worse moms than I am. The truth of it is that I actually fear that I’m the worst mom on this planet. I worry that someone will come tell me that I’m not old enough to be a mom, that I don’t do a good enough job, and that I’m not allowed to raise my kids anymore. I worry that I don’t give them enough attention, that I don’t play with them as much as I should, that I don’t do a good enough job showing them that I love them. In order to reassure myself that I’m not a complete fail, I slip into the comparison game.

This mental scorekeeping doesn’t get me anywhere. It doesn’t make me feel like I’m doing a better job, it simply has me constantly comparing myself to others. I might have something more under control than the other mom does, but I guarantee that she has something else more figured out than I do. That doesn’t make either of us better, it just puts us in the same boat. We are both doing our best to figure out this mom thing as we go. And what more could we do than that?

Motherhood Inspires

I’ve always thought that my need to have my own thing, the drive to carve out time for myself, has been a sign that I’m not really a good mom. That I should be content to be with my kids all of the time and not be so selfish.

But today a realization struck me – that motherhood is what drives me! It drives me to be a better version of myself so that I can in turn be a better mom. I was never really into exercise in my teens, but now since becoming a mom I make movement a priority. I see the difference in how I am as a mom if I’ve been taking care of myself or not. I love my children and want to love them right; that is a huge reason to do those things that fill me.

It is what inspires me. The little snapshots throughout the day, good or bad, are what inspire me to write, photograph, or draw. It inspires me to create - to carve out time for sewing something for the baby, to take some time during naps to watercolor. The emotions that I work through in a day inspire me to write it out and share it in the hopes that it puts words to what another mom is feeling. 

Letting go of the fear that I’m not a good enough mom.

Embracing the fact that motherhood causes me to be a truer me.

Oh, Monday

Oh, Monday.

You are here again. You mark an end and a beginning. Another weekend gone – time with Nic and the kids at home, time spent working on the house, a couple days of sleeping in a bit later. A new week beginning, with the next weekend feeling off in the distant future.

You are a day to recoup, to catch up on the dishes that didn’t get done all weekend, to reorganize my mind for the week ahead. Sometimes I like you, but sometimes I really do not.

I usually don’t want to let go of the weekend. The days of family time -whether it’s working or visiting side by side- is still quality time. Although my main job doesn’t give me the weekend off (the kids sure follow me wherever I go!), weekends are for taking a bit of a breather. For giving myself permission to relax and find something fun to do with the kids.

But Monday means back to business. It means early morning wake up in order to meet that yellow school bus. It means Nic is out of bed before me, off to fight traffic on his way to the jobsite. And me? Well, today is one of those days; I would love to let the weekend linger just a little bit longer. I’m not ready to meet this week head on just yet.

I’m avoiding the kitchen (sink piled high with dishes), the bathroom (diapers need to be taken out in a bad way), the laundry room (let’s not even talk about the laundry piles). Today I am giving myself permission to ignore it a little bit longer. I will drink my coffee while it’s still warm and stay cozy on this chair with my pen and paper. I will enjoy some Rosie snuggles before Gus wakes up.

Because guess what? That work isn’t going anywhere. And neither am I.

One Of The Best Gifts

Will I ever feel just happy when I see the double lines on that stick? Will my feelings ever be uncomplicated? Of course I’m happy that there is another human growing inside me again, but there’s so much more to it than that.

There’s the worry of will it all go okay? Will I miscarry this one too? There’s the worry of the adjustments that will come with another little one. Everything that is going on in my life right now, plus a newborn too? How will I do it?

There are the lifestyle changes that will take place because of pregnancy; eating better, being more active, sleeping more. The general routine of the days will slow down a notch. It’s a change for the better, but it’s still change.

Speaking of change, there’s all the changes within me that I start to prepare for. The few weeks of nausea that are to come. The bigger every part of me – you name it, it’s getting bigger. Then there’s the hormonal roller coaster that I’m about to jump on and have the ride of my life. My poor husband.

The nine months until due date feels so far away, a goal that I won’t reach for a very long time. But then I think about that little fresh newborn baby, so small, soft and warm against my chest. All of the worry, change and crazy days will be worth it.

Because that new life, held so close to my heart, is one of the best gifts we can get.

I'm Still Me

I started a massive decluttering project, which forced me to go through old papers, pictures, letters, and mementos. Looking at pictures from my time in Finland, those high school years, the months I lived with girlfriends before getting married… the sense of nostalgia overwhelmed me.

Man, was that fun! All of the exploring, having little responsibility in life, beginning to find myself just as me. I knew how to have be adventurous and find a good time. I didn’t have much tying me down – I was footloose and fancy free. How different my life was then. I had a job or school that I worked around and I dreamt of the days that I could stay home with my kids and do whatever I wanted. (That’s what moms do, right?) My free time was my own though, and I could do what I wanted with it. It almost feels like that was a separate person from who I am now; that teenage girl who was up for spontaneous trips to Canada to drive up a mountain and go for pizza. I think I spontaneously took a bath last Friday night, does that count?

My life looks different now, but that thread runs through me still. The core of me, underneath the responsibility of motherhood and adulthood, is still the same. I still enjoy the spontaneous moments when they do happen, and I still know how to laugh until I cry. It’s good that I have learned to be more responsible and raise my family. But it’s also good to remember who I am and to bring that sense of fun and adventure into my days as a mother.

Intentional Prioritizing

I miss the days when it was just the two of us – Nicandgloria. Life was less busy then; not as many projects on the go. No one else to take care of or plan our schedules around other than each other. If we felt like going out to eat, we did. If we felt like sleeping in on the weekend, we did. Our days and evenings were quieter and our conversations were uninterrupted. We didn’t have to worry about what we said and if we would hear that phrase repeated a couple hours later as the kids played. There was more time for each other – date nights, drives to nowhere particular, evening walks while holding hands. Just the two of us.

Now we have house projects, work, and a handful of kids. It feels like there is always another thing that comes up, another obligation that takes time. Quality family time is hard to find and quality me and Nic time even harder. The days blur by into weeks and months without me even knowing where they have gone or how we spent them.

Looking back, the times that stand out from the blur are the ones where I was intentional in how I spent my time. Weekly date nights before Guin was born. The weekend we went camping when Guin was a baby. Days of waking up with the sun to sew for my farmer’s market adventure. Hours spent in the summer sun, just soaking in life.

It was easier to spend intentional time with Nic before because there was less going on. But I just need to decide to be intentional with how I spend my time now, and maybe get a bit more creative with scheduling things. It means saying ‘no’ more often to the items that aren’t as important. (Guilt free saying no to scrubbing my toilets – yes!) It means combining errands and being more efficient.

Because I know that I have enough time and energy for what I prioritize.

Dear Nic

Dear Nic,

I miss you. This last month feels like the busiest one at the end of an already busy year. If you’re not gone, then I am. We live in the same house but we feel more like room mates than anything. I see you everyday but there hasn’t been much time for connecting or catching up. I feel like you are so far away, on a different planet than me. I can’t reach you there. Our minds are running on different wave lengths and I can’t read the frequency of yours.

We went for a date (finally!) on Sunday, and yes it was good. Just the two of us, eating, talking and driving. Nothing special, but special because we were together – actually together, not just occupying the same space. I cried – it’s not a true date if I don’t cry at least once, right? We laughed and we tried to figure out how to get through this busy stage and still keep our love strong. Even though we talked about things we could do, I still feel like we’re not on the same page. I still think you don’t get it. I pushed those feelings of disconnect away and reassured myself that it will be better this week.

But it hasn’t. We’ve gone back to the same story as before our date – busy, disconnected, different worlds. And I miss you. My heart aches for the love I know we have but is hidden right now. It aches at the thoughts and words I have hurled at you in my hurt. This isn’t how I want to be. This isn’t true to me and you.

So I’m going to try again, even though last night I declared that I was done trying. I want forgiveness and a fresh blank slate to start again. I know this love is the best thing I have in my life and it’s worth the effort.

I’m done with missing you.

Love,

Me

Confessions Of A Candy Crush Addict

I have a confession to make. No judging allowed.

I am a candy crush addict.

Seriously.

Let me tell you the story of how that came to be. A couple of my friends were discussing how addicting this game was and I laughed at them – I would never get addicted to a game.

But then I started playing it. And I couldn’t stop. And then I got the new iPhone 4 so that I could play it when I was at home, not only on my in-law’s computer. I played candy crush while I drank my morning coffee. When I sat down to feed Guin. During my quiet hours while Guin napped. I waited anxiously for a new life when I had run out of lives – until I found the hack for getting more lives whenever I wanted and I never had to wait again.

Candy crush became my safe zone. I didn’t have to think about what I was feeling or why I was feeling that way. I could just focus on the game I was playing and block out every part of my life that I didn’t have control over. I was numbing the void that I felt with friendships and connections from moving to a new place and entering motherhood. Nothing really mattered except for passing the next level.

The thrill that I felt when I passed a particularly hard level; I accomplished something in my life! I can do this!

The number of days that I spent only accomplishing a few levels on candy crush are too many to count.

We all have our own numbing mechanisms, some that are more harmful than others. Something that we automatically turn to in order to avoid an emotion.  

Although those days of doing absolutely nothing else are past for me, I still find myself reaching for my phone to get on candy crush when I feel an emotion that is too much to handle. When I want the numbing effect of not having to think about life or anything. I’ve thought of taking candy crush off my phone, but I decided it’s an okay buffering habit as long as I’m aware of how often I’m using it.

Plus, think of all those levels and the hard work I would lose!

Haha.

Full Hands, Full Heart

When you have four little blondies that are within inches of the same height, you get many comments at the grocery store- or anywhere for that matter. Some are nice to hear, “Wow, four kids?! They are so beautiful and well behaved!” Some are not, “Tell your husband to leave you alone!” One that I hear often is “You’ve got your hands full!” And I suppose I do.

I remember when I was expecting my third, I felt like my hands were full with the two that I had. One kid on the right, one on the left, everything is under control. Then number three came, and where do I put him? On my back? On my head? And now number four- on my shoulders? Carry her on my foot somehow? We could all hold hands as we cross the parking lot towards the store, looking like one giant choo-choo train. But yes, my hands are full – and so is my heart.

I have four children to love, and who love me in return. They teach me as much, if not more, as I am trying to teach them. They make me grow when it feels like it would be easier to stay as I am. They remind me about what is most important in life. They show me how to slow down and take in the small moments even when it feels like that’s the last thing I have time for.

Sometimes I feel like I’m going to go crazy, but then there are the little moments like a good morning squeeze. A deep belly laugh. Them laughing at their own little made up jokes. The proud smile when they learned something new. A new phrase that comes out of nowhere. ('Cause I am a stronger man!) And I remember why I’m doing the crazy.

End Of The Day Guilt

The kids are all tucked in upstairs, cozy in their warm beds. I reheat my cup of coffee, grab (yet another) chunk of chocolate and go sit on the couch. The happenings of today run through my mind, like a black and white film.

A flash of red in the footage catches my eye. Oh, that was when I had a spaz over the spilt cereal bowl this morning. Nice. Then another spot of red catches my eye; Emerson kept asking me to read his book as I was busy doing laundry. Really good. The film continues to play through the whole day, but it’s more like a black, white, and red all over film.

I start to criticize myself. Why? Why do I always have to react to situations? Why can’t I learn to be more calm, cool, and collected? I said this when I should’ve said that. And right there, I really didn’t set a good example for how we behave. Good job, Gloria. Great job.

How many times have I told myself that tomorrow I’ll be a better mom. Tomorrow I will be more patient, more kind, more loving. Yet the next day, I find myself stuck in that same reel. I know this role, and even though it’s not how I want to be, I go back to this pattern because it’s comfortable. I tell myself I want to change, to be better.

But change is hard! It takes conscious thought, being intentional in everything. It’s too easy to slip into the known sequence, the automatic behaviors.

So again, I make myself run through that same reel of today. And I pick out the bits of yellow that I didn’t see before when I was so focused on all the red. There. I wanted so badly to yell when I tripped over that stupid toy that was laying in the middle of the floor, but I just breathed deeply. And there – I finally read Emerson his book after I finished the laundry, even though I wanted to get started on my own book.

It’s so easy to focus on where I failed and what I could’ve done better. But that doesn’t get you anywhere except feeling bad about yourself. Instead, look for the times that you did try to do something differently and the small victories. Focus on those and how much better it made you feel. Slowly but surely it will become more natural.

Plus, that’s what forgiveness and a fresh day tomorrow are for.

A Different Summer

As my due date approaches, I find my priorities shifting. It’s no longer important to go many places, see many people, or do many exciting things. I find myself content to be at home with my kids and work on things around the house. My focus is shifting inward to my baby and how my body is feeling. I’m not at that impatient get out of my belly already, baby! stage yet, I’m just preparing for that day when baby does decide to come.

Instead of expecting myself to still be social and energetic, how good it feels to give myself permission to be at home. To allow these slower paced home days to fill me as much as my busier days from before. We are preparing for the birth of this baby, but also for those postpartum weeks to come. I know that I won’t want to do much besides sit on my couch and snuggle this baby, so I want to get as much ready for that as I can.

I wasn’t originally looking forward to having a baby due the end of June, because summer is a time for lots of fun and happenings. When you have a new baby, that just isn’t what life is like. I felt like I would be missing out on my summer.

This summer will simply look different. We will make our own little beach in our yard with the pool and the sandbox. I won’t have to worry about packing lunches and snacks and water bottles and toys and towels and the kitchen sink, because it will all be ten feet away. We will invite friends over to enjoy our private beach and I won’t have to stress about the long drive, traffic, or parking. We’ll find fun things to do at home or close by, things that easily accommodate a nursing newborn. It’s a matter of adjusting my expectations of myself and our days.

Yes, this will still be a good summer.

Letting Go

Why is it so hard to tell someone, “I had depression”? Or “I struggle with depression”? The shame that I associate with it; that I’m weak, broken. I’m not actually as good of a mom because I didn’t love being a mom during that time. I still did my daily tasks, but they weren’t done with love.

Or the guilt that comes with that word, because I never experienced some great traumatic experience. I don’t feel that I’m allowed to feel depressed since I don’t have anything real to be depressed about. Many other people have gone through way harder times than I have, so I shouldn’t be depressed.

But loss is loss. In order to get past what you’re missing, you need to allow yourself to grieve. Once you have grieved the old story, only then can a new story start.

I always knew I wanted to be a mom. I couldn’t wait for the day that I would have my very own husband and my very own babies. I wanted a house with everyone just crammed right in there, a house full of love and noise. I married Nic when I was 19 years old, and on our first anniversary we had a two-month-old daughter. My long-awaited dream was now my reality, only it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like normal life, except that my spark for life wasn’t burning bright. It wasn’t every day that I felt depressed- there were definitely good days in that first year of Guin’s life. But my overall memory of that year is that I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t living true to myself.

I missed my family and the place that I used to call home. I missed my friends and hanging out at Starbucks for hours on end. I missed the stores that I used to shop at, and seeing the mountains in the distance as I drove home from work. I loved Nic and my daughter, but I also missed being single and free. And I felt terrible for missing that, especially; I felt that I shouldn’t miss it. It wasn’t fair to my new family to feel that way.

But it’s okay to miss the past, and to grieve the fact that your life now isn’t what you thought it would be like. Let go of the guilt, fear, shame, and whatever else that you are holding onto with your old story. I believe that everything that happens has a purpose.

There is a reason your life is this way today.

Simplify. Savor. Treasure

The power that words hold; the feelings that they can bring up inside of you. A phrase that speaks such truth to your heart. A single word that has so much meaning.

Simplify. Your life, your day, your expectations. Take a breath and readjust your mindset, go back to the most basic point of your life. What is all that you truly need?

Savor. Breathe in this moment; this very moment right now, not the one that just passed or the one that is to come. Soak it in, revel in all the feels. Find these moments throughout the busy days where you savor; these are what you will remember.

Treasure. This ties in with the savoring, treasuring the moments. Holding them special for what they are and allowing them to fill your heart.

After the week of being away from my family and grieving with a dear friend who has suffered such a huge loss, these words are speaking directly to me. The normalcy of our everyday is just so normal. I wake up every morning, expecting it to be just another day of daily life. I’ll wave goodbye to two kids on that yellow school bus. I’ll spend a few minutes snuggling the other two on the couch before we start our day. Meals will be eaten during the day, naps will be taken, cleaning and reading and whatever other normal things will happen throughout the day. Routines and rhythms have become so natural that I don’t even stop to question them.

Then something like this happens and I view life from a different perspective. I find myself being grateful for the normalness of our everyday. I find myself savoring the everyday. How lucky I am to wake up to just another regular day.

It made me face what is actually most important in my life, and to make the time for those priorities. It made me appreciate what I wasn’t taking the time to be grateful for before.

Unseen, Unheard

I know that being a mom is a very important job- loving your kids and raising them correctly. But still, I feel like it’s not enough. A part of me knows that being a good enough mom is all that I need to do, but there’s the other side of me that is looking for something more. Something that is me, that I see results from. Where I can see myself and hear myself.

My days are full of feeding kids, cleaning faces, wiping bums, picking up toys, piles of laundry-clean and waiting to be put away, dirty and ready for washing- both stacked high. These chores are the type that if you do them they aren’t noticed; but if you don’t do them, it’s very clear that they need to be done. I clean up the books and toys, the kids wake up from their naps and the toys are spread all over again. I wipe the table, we eat, and it needs to be wiped again. I change baby’s diaper, she poops, and needs to be changed again. This never-ending cycle of repeating my actions over and over. Maybe this is why I feel unseen- I’m continually doing something that I will have to do again in the near future.

My days are full of “Don’t touch that!” and “Did you hear what I said? Do you remember what I just told you about x, y, and z?” Always reminding my kids how we behave, how we talk, how we act. But five minutes later they are doing the exact same thing. Is it any wonder that I feel unheard?

Your kids don’t give you recognition for all you do because they don’t even realize half of what you do. The people that you are spending your days with don’t know how to appreciate what you do for them (yet!), but they do know how to do one thing very well: they love you. They still love you when you lose your temper cleaning up yet another spill. They still love you when you are trying to teach them about sharing for the umpteenth time. They forgive your faults so automatically and they love with their entire heart.

I also know that they do see and hear me. They pick up on small mannerisms and sayings that I don’t even realize I do. (Some of these I wish they wouldn’t pick up on!) I know that they are learning the important things that I’m trying to teach them too, it just might be a while before I see those results.

Or maybe they are already there, I’m just not looking in the right places.

My Husband's Family

We walk out the front door together, Nic and I. The door closes and the noise from inside is muffled. I take a sip of my coffee and try to breathe deep. It’s just another normal evening at his parents, our kids are inside enjoying the spotlight and all the love that is lavished on them. I turn to Nic and I can’t stop the tears from running down my face. I wish we were at my parents instead. We’ve been married for a handful of years, but still. This living far away from them is so hard. On a normal evening like tonight – eating supper, normal daily things happening, talking and laughing – I can’t help but wish that we could experience these moments with my family too.

--

Our families have some similarities; both consist of many people and they have that together feeling. They are both a little bit, special shall we say. We have similar upbringings and the same beliefs. But they are also so different; different people and ideas, different ways of doing things. How can one not compare the new to the old? There were times when the new way wouldn’t meet the standards that I created in my mind. In my family, we did it this way.

--

I hear a faint sound as I’m putting the last touches on the chocolate cheesecake, it sounds kind of like a squealing pig. I smile to myself because without even looking out the window, I know that my sister in laws have arrived for our sauna and game night. Sure enough, there they are in the yard – going crazy over Gus who is thoroughly soaking in the attention. Then they come through the front door, mumble-jumbling their way into the kitchen. In this moment, I am so thankful for them and all of their craziness.

Most of all, I am thankful that I was able to let go of that worn out measuring stick. That I got to know Nic’s family for themselves. I learned to relax a bit and enjoy their noise and chaos. The biggest thing that I learned though, is how deeply they love. They love my kids and I so completely. They accepted me into their family – I am a daughter, a part of the family – not just the girl who married their son.

They aren't simply my husband's family anymore - they are my family too.

Feeling Balanced

I have another baby on it’s way into this world. It is cooking and growing inside of me, just as the other four did for nine months. People ask, “Isn’t that crazy that you are expecting number five already? Can you believe it? How do you feel?”

As long as I have somewhat of a balance in my life with my most important needs being met, the thought of adding another newborn to the mix makes my heart swell. Of course, I wonder about how the kids will transition, how baby will be and sleep (please, please be a good sleeper like the others!), and how the rhythm of our days will change. But overall, I am excited to meet this little one and welcome him (is it a him? Am I right?) into our family.

This winter has been a breather for me. We’ve been lucky to go on multiple vacations, Nic’s work hours haven’t been crazy like last fall. We have made date nights a priority. My mental health has been good overall, I must be at a space where my hormones are balanced. Most days I wake up feeling excited about today’s possibilities and feeling so grateful for all of my blessings. That in itself is a blessing, to feel truly grateful.

There are moments that I feel overwhelmed by my life, but they are simply moments. I have been conscious of my needs and I make them a priority so that I feel like I can handle life. So that I can bounce back quicker when I fall into those ruts. In those hard moments though, I can’t imagine adding another baby to the mix. I can’t see how I will be able to do all this – plus a newborn.

The solution? Create balance before baby is born.

Find your non-negotiables. What are the few things that you need on a regular basis in order to feel like your life is mostly under control and you enjoy living? Make those your priority and work at putting them into your daily rhythm. It will shift when baby is born, but if you have the habits started it will be much easier to continue.

Allow the simple things to fill that space inside of you. Sometimes it would be nice to get out for a whole day at a spa, to travel somewhere new, or do something more extravagant, but it just isn’t realistic. DO schedule that in for when it’s possible, but don’t wait for that day to come to get a breather. Let the twenty-minute walk reset your mind. Stay up the extra ten minutes after the kids go to bed to write down three things that you are grateful for. Let these be enough.

Know what makes you happy, what makes you light up, and actually put it into practice. That’s the hard part. It’s so easy to know that going for a walk would make you feel better, but instead you sit down with your phone and waste those minutes doing something that doesn’t recharge you. The more often you do it though, the easier it gets to choose it.

Choose to do what lights you up. Your kids see that too.

My Three Year Old Boy

I look at Gus as he plays with his very special birthday dirt bike. He is such a bull in a china shop – loud noises, brash movements, and completely unpredictable. When the mood strikes, he doesn’t stop to question it he just follows through.

He is so packed full of energy that I can just about see it exploding from him. He’s here – then he’s over there. He gives Rosie a BIG old hug and then runs in circles around her. He’s driving his little mini dirt bike on me and the next minute he’s driving Guin’s doll stroller like a dirt bike, crashing into the furniture and laughing like a maniac. He is so stubborn; he has his own idea about how his day should go. He thinks he knows better than mommy or daddy on many issues and he isn’t afraid to argue. But he is also the one that wants everyone happy and laughing at his tricks. He is quick to give a hug sorry and move on to the next fun project.

To say the least, he drives me crazy a dozen times a day. But he is here with me. My heart aches for the mom that doesn’t get to wrap her arms around her three-year-old terror anymore. It breaks at the thought of having to give my boy away; even if he gets to be in the most perfect of places – heaven.

It’s NOT FAIR! I want to scream. Why should any mom have to say goodbye to their most mischievous of kids? Nobody should have to try to heal from this kind of a wound, to adjust to a new normal daily life without their three-year-old boy wreaking havoc. It goes beyond my understanding and comprehending, the why’s and the how’s. And that’s where trust comes in, trusting that God’s plan is perfect even when the pain feels too great to bear. Trusting that God knew best when to take that little angel boy from this world, even if the timing doesn’t make sense in our minds.

As for my little boy, I give him a few extra squeezes a day. I remember to sit down on the couch with him and just hold him a little extra longer. He still presses my buttons and pushes his limits, and I still get upset when he’s not listening. But the love and forgiveness come a little faster these days.