Life: Not On My Terms

Not that it ever has been, of course. But sometimes it's easy to forget I'm not totally in control.

Spring Break 2007:
mojitos at the Opera Bar watching the sun set over Sydney? totally on my terms

One of the beautiful (and terrifying and messy) things about motherhood is that it constantly reminds me that I'm not really in control. I'm in charge of nearly everything, but I'm not in control.

Side note: one of the joys of that magical moment of Daddy getting home from work is that there is someone else to make a decision! To be responsible for something! To be in charge!

For all the decisions I make in any given day I still find it somewhat shocking how little of my life is on my terms. You’d think I’d get used to this. Maybe someday I will, but it is not this day! Four and a half years of motherhood haven't cured me of that particular delusion yet.

And really, the biggest (and totally uncomfortable, upsetting, shocking) piece of it all is, that life isn’t on my terms. You see where this is going, I’m sure.

Surprise!

Okay, not a surprise per se, because yes, we do know what causes that. But definitely not part of our plans at this point. And that was hard for me, because they were really responsible, good plans. Plans that we prayerfully formed around some significant health concerns on my part, among other things.

And it was also unexpected because we did everything right NFP-wise. After a lengthy discussion with our Creighton Model instructor all we were able to determine is that we apparently have the dubious distinction of being in that 1-3ish % (depending on which study you look at) for whom the method simply doesn't work the way it is supposed to. For some reason it's really important for me to throw that out there. We were using an actual, scientific, effective fertility awareness method (not the rhythm method) and we were using it correctly--but sometimes even that doesn't work. Look for further reflections on our experience with NFP at some future point because I have already been trying to write this post for several months and if I wait until I have figured out how to say everything I want to/feel like I need to say then I will never finish it!

SO. Pregnant. Surprised. Upset. Scared. Anxious. That's where I was when we found out in early March. We told family and a few friends and asked for prayers, but that was all. I wasn't ready to talk about being pregnant, especially not in a public setting like social media, until I found some peace with this situation. Let me be clear, we loved this baby even during that first week in March where I was sure I was pregnant but refusing to take a test because then there was still a chance that this was just a really bizarre cycle. I didn't want to be pregnant right now but I loved and wanted this specific child. Complicated? Maybe, maybe not. Never tell a pregnant woman her emotions don't make sense... but you probably knew that already! (Or anyone, for that matter... "You are emotional AND irrational" is not likely to be helpful in any situation, amiright?).

finally took the plunge and announced Baby #4
on Instagram and Facebook for Mother's Day

It took the entire first trimester and then some for me to come to terms with being pregnant again. Even once I had started to feel a little more excited and a little less scared, I didn't know how to start talking about this baby publicly. It wasn't just mourning the loss of my own plans and letting go of my anxieties--I felt guilty for being pregnant. And especially guilty for being pregnant and not being 100% thrilled about it.

I know so many people--family, close friends, acquaintances from college, blog friends--who are dealing with infertility and/or are grieving the loss of a child. And then here I am over here, just wishing I could somehow manage to wean one baby before getting pregnant with the next. How could I announce this new little life within me in the face of so much pain and suffering? Even more--how could I talk honestly about this pregnancy and my own struggles with it? I determined almost right away to offer my sufferings, major or minor, physical and emotional, for those struggling to conceive or grieving the loss of a child. But could I even say that to anyone? Would it just seem like salt in the wound?

I don't know. I still don't entirely know. But as time goes on and I round the bend into the 3rd trimester, it has started to feel a little ridiculous to have total blog-silence about this baby. So, here we are at 28.5 weeks, announcing the not-quite-imminent arrival of Baby #4 in November. And we are thrilled--really and truly--even as I wonder on a daily basis how I am possibly going to survive another 11ish weeks of this.

Oh, and by the way--Mama's getting reinforcements and we're all pretty thrilled about that too ;)

When life is just kind of a pain...

I had such good intentions of blogging more regularly this summer. I have a whole series of posts brewing in which I plan to share the deep insights and life lessons I've been mulling over as I read the boys their favorite books over and over and over again. Liam's vocabulary is growing by leaps and bounds. John Paul is already four months old. Michael is becoming such a big little boy. I have sooooo many pictures I've been meaning to post.

Shortly after Easter my SI joint alignment issue reared its ugly head again, and I saw the physical therapist for it in early June (I didn't mean to wait so long--I gave it a couple weeks to resolve with stretching, then when it didn't it took another 3 weeks before I could get an appointment. sigh.). And then two weeks ago I went back to my PT for some intense back pain. I was hoping it was just my alignment again, but the PT checked me over and informed me that I was perfectly aligned. This time the problem is an acute herniated disc. Well, rats.

This situation has been all-consuming for me. I already felt overwhelmed and frustrated with the residual sciatic pain and limited range of motion from my alignment issue. Now, of course, I wish it were only that. I thought I had a high tolerance for pain (I confess my natural labors are often more a source of pride for me than they should be!) but this experience has been totally humbling. A big part of why I haven't blogged much recently is that I can't think of anything to say that isn't chock-full of self pity (the other part is that I can't sit at the computer for more than a few minutes, and the kitchen counters are rarely clean/clear enough to to serve as a standing desk). I started this post with the title of "photo dump" and the intention of simply mentioning my back and then posting a bunch of pictures from the last month or so. And then when the explanation started to just flow out in more detail than I had planned, I spent the rest of the evening feeling sorry for myself all over again. There may be future reflections on what I've been learning about myself during this ordeal, and then again there may not. Maybe once I'm back to "normal" (whatever that is; my PT did promise she'd get me there) I'll have a little more perspective and can write something that isn't just whining.

ANYways, here are a couple pictures from our trip to South Dakota for church camp in June. More pictures coming very soon, I promise :)

John Paul Charles and Great Grandpa Chuck

really great Great Grandparents

it was not a particularly photogenic week for Liam...
this was his happiest face from all the family pictures we tried to take

these boys lover their grandparents!

Some overdue updates

I feel like I am woefully behind on blogging, but when I think back over the last few months I can’t think of a whole lot about which to blog.  The really newsworthy stuff wasn’t any fun to go through and still isn’t any fun to think about, hence no in-depth blog entries on Michael’s awful bout of croup in January (complete with a night in the hospital), his ear infection in early February (thankfully he takes pretty much any kind of medicine like a champ, except for generic orange-flavored acetaminophen), and his current case of cough/congestion (heading into our second week of it—I’m watching him like a hawk for the slightest indication that it’s more than a cold… again).  But through it all he’s such a happy little guy, even when he’s feeling crummy, that I’m constantly reminded to be thankful that it isn’t worse.  Unfortunately feeling thankful that it isn’t worse serves as a reminder that it could be worse, and then I have to stop before I work myself into a panic over all the possibilities (most of them ridiculous).

The silver lining to all of this is that despite feeling crummy for a good part of the last two months, Michael has started sleeping better.  And by “better” I mean he hasn’t woken up more than twice in one night in at least two weeks, maybe three.  We have also finally broken into the double digits for times he has slept through the night, which is wildly exciting.  This means that oh-so-slowly Alex and I feel like we are starting to catch up on well over a year’s worth of missed sleep.  Or at least Alex would be catching up if he could shake the cough/cold he’s had since the beginning of December, and I would be catching up if I didn’t wake up to Michael’s cough at 4:30, wonder if it’s turning into croup, and then not be able to calm down enough to fall back to sleep before the alarm goes off at 5:40.

Yes, 5:40.  AM.  Part of the price of those wonderful summer months of freedom is that Alex leaves for work before 7am most mornings—and for Lent we gave up the snooze button AND I am getting up with him even on the days when I don’t have to go in to work.  The idea was to practice discipline by getting up early (with a joyful attitude, in theory) and practice order in my life by having some quiet time before Michael wakes up.  In reality that has happened maybe twice so far, and the other days I have barely managed to drag myself out of bed wondering if it’s Easter yet.

And these days which are starting earlier due to Lent are ending later thanks to soccer season.  Alex is assistant coach for the girls’ JV team again this year, and while he loves the sport and I love watching him love it, coaching is not particularly easy on us as it means Alex gets home between 6:00 and 6:30 most evenings instead of by 4:00.  It seems a bit whiny to complain about an extra two hours a day—and it’s only for two months—but oh boy are those a long two hours!  Particularly since that that is the time of day when a) I have rather pressing things to do in the kitchen like cook dinner, and b) Michael has a pronounced dislike for me being in the kitchen unless I am holding him.  If I am trying to do something in the kitchen he will follow me around insisting that I pick him up, but if I take him into the living room and sit down to play with him, he wanders off to a different part of the living room to play by himself.  It’s not so much that he wants my attention, he just doesn’t want the kitchen to have my attention.  If he feels this way about a room in our apartment, imagine how he’ll feel about a sibling someday!  (No, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to be a big brother when that day comes, God willing, just not around dinner time).  One activity which (sometimes) reconciles him to allowing me to cook dinner is playing in "his" cupboard—literally.

The other activity which keeps him happy in the kitchen is playing with a bowl full of soapsuds.  This brilliant idea came from a friend who is way better at thinking up activities for little ones than I am (which doesn't take much, but she is seriously talented at it), but I think her son is much less likely to put anything and everything in his mouth than my son is.  After Michael ate half of the last batch of soapsuds before I caught him (creating a very impressive Santa-style beard) we will no longer be using dish soap for this activity, but rather baby soap.  At least that is manufactured with the possibility that it will be ingested in mind.

All in all we are staying busy (or at least Alex is busy, and therefore I feel busy, and Michael is always finding new things to do/get into, and therefore I feel even busier).