I have always liked even numbers,
They somehow feel safe to me.
Maybe its the tiny bit of OCD in me,
But things just seem meant to be in pairs.
When our third son Devin was born,
We always knew we wanted one more.
We wanted another child in the far off,
Somewhere down the line sense that you want that dream vacation;
It will happen eventually,
Yet here I am,
Just ten short weeks from birthing my second baby in eighteen months.
And I’m glad that life isn’t a “choose your own ending” book,
Because some of the surprises in my life have been the best moments of my existence.
But right now I am looking at my life and myself and having a few…doubts.
I guess I have felt this way before each of my children’s births.
Asking God what on earth He is thinking trusting me to raise ANOTHER life.
When I go into grocery stores or really anywhere out in public,
People stare at me with giant bug eyes and ask how I do it.
I smile politely and shrug the question off.
I am not a perfect mother,
That is for certain.
But when asking how I do it,
It almost seems silly.
I just live.
I live with my kids and see where life takes us.
We have rules and routines and standards,
And we live by them.
I don’t go through life thinking “I’m going to be the greatest mom ever today.”
I just wake up, and live and do what I can to be the best person I can be.
Sometimes I yell,
Or lose my temper.
Sometimes I say things I shouldn’t,
And sometimes I feel more like resting on the couch than reading a bedtime story,
But in the end I put the needs of my family first,
And I do what I can to be what they need.
But I have been blessed,
Because my kids behave for the most part.
They respect me and others.
They are polite and friendly.
They are beautiful (though that is all God’s doing),
And they are filled to the brim with life and sunshine.
They are truly wonderful children.
And even though I know that, I have been sitting here these last few days feeling so overwhelmed.
When you find out you’re pregnant,
There is always that initial adjustment period where you come to terms with this new reality and extra addition.
But nine months is a long time,
And its supposed to be plenty of time to get used to the idea.
Yet, somehow I find myself torn in two.
Part of me can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore,
And part of me is dreading trying to juggle four kiddos five and under,
Two of them under two.
I can do it,
I know I can.
Because that is what I have always done.
When life starts throwing curve balls you just keep swinging the best way that you know how.
I ran into someone not long ago at the store,
A casual acquaintance I had met at the park for a few play dates since her boys were about the same age as my oldest two.
She saw my pregnant belly and practically gasped.
“How’d you let THAT happen? Girl I could smack you, what were you thinking having ANOTHER one!”
My cheeks turned all kinds of red as I mumbled something about how we are very happy, though we plan for this one to be our last.
I was so taken aback by her brazen disapproval I didn’t even realize how angry she had made me until about thirty seconds after I walked away.
I’m married, and last time I checked my husband and I didn’t take a general public opinion poll before doing *ahem* married people things.
It’s no one’s business if my husband and I want to have ten kids, but four is certainly not a ghastly number that people should be dropping their jaws at.
I guess I’m funny that way,
A part of me is freaking out a little and the other part is mad at anyone who freaks out a little bit for me.
I have always been terrified of failing as a parent.
No matter what my shortcomings or those of my husband,
My goal and prayer has always been for my children to feel safe, secure, and to know beyond a shaddow of a doubt that they are loved, and we are here for them whatever they need.
People have often told my husband and I that we are too young to have so many kids.
We started young, very young, so why not finish young?
I’m not trying to rush through their childhood or anything,
But I have been changing diapers for almost six years straight,
And I am ready to see a light at the end of the tunnel before my fire just burns out.
I think the strangest thing for me is what a hard time I am having bonding with this little “Peanut.”
“Peanut” is what we have named the baby until we can agree on a definitive name.
And yet, somehow Peanut and I just don’t feel quite as close as I did with Devin.
Maybe it’s just the fear in the back of my mind.
I don’t question or doubt my love for this baby,
I love each of my children equally and completely and there is not a single doubt in my mind about the fact that will be the same for this child.
I guess I’m just not as excited as I want to be,
Because I am scared.
I’m scared of what the future holds.
My greatest fear is breaking down,
Of not being able to handle it anymore.
I don’t want to think that way,
And it’s not even like I really think it will.
It’s just this nagging thought of the “what if’s” looming over my head.
I just want to be at peace with all of this.
I just want to figure out how to be excited.
I just want to believe in myself as much as God seems to,
Since he keeps trusting me with all of these babies.
I just want to shake my insecurities away,
And wake up tomorrow with all the confidence I never knew existed.
Is that so hard?
Apparently, at least for me, it is…
Even Numbers June 6, 2012
I have always liked even numbers,