The Cereal Incident (AKA My Finest Hour)

We had an incident one morning.  Well, I had an incident.   

I was tired from another restless night of pregnancy-meets-toddler-momma.  I was tired from trying to wrestle my children out of their beds and get them to stop whimpering about not wanting to “go to Terri’s” (which just means they wanted to play instead of having to get ready) long enough to tell me what they wanted for breakfast.  I was tired of debating about who got to get the spoons out of the drawer, and waiting for them to concede that they in fact could not reach them without my help to open the child-proof drawer latch.  I was just down-right tired.  So when my three year old proclaimed that she wanted the “pink bowl” (of which in her limited understanding of color she didn't realize there was none of – red or purple yes, but no pink), I lost it.  I lost it even more when my four year old demanded that he wanted the “pink bowl” (this from the kid whose understanding is not limited in this area, and actually DOES know what purple is).  Followed by him pushing his sister, trying to stealing the bowl off the counter, almost spilling the “Cinnamon Cereal” within it, leading to his little sister’s ridiculous wailing that culminated it all.  They were out of control, and I was getting there quickly! 

By the time I got done moving them both as far away from me as I could in our small kitchen, scolding that “we don’t get to pick our bowls and we will take whatever Momma picks for you, especially since you never finish all your cereal anyways,” and putting their RED and PURPLE bowls down on the table in their respective seats, both kids were crying.  And Momma almost was.  Luckily for all of us, Dadda came to take over so I could walk away.  Not my finest hour as a mother!  (But then again, when has 7:00am EVER been my finest hour?) 

After cooling down, and seeing the kids eat just fine from whatever colored bowls were in front of them, I realized that, unfortunately, they get it from me.

I like to pick.  I like things my way.  I like to have a say in what I do and get in life.  Who doesn’t?  But my tendency to want to pick, even wanting options that aren’t available, it seemed was rubbing off on my children.  And my next child was a prime example. 

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As an expecting-mother, I wanted a girl.  I grew up with sisters, and have an incredibly unique relationship with one now as an adult.  I also love seeing the unique relationship between my Mother and her sisters still.  So I wanted that for Lilly too.  Plus, I had a girls name all picked out (I just had to convince Mike of it).  I had butterfly curtain rods in the nursery that still made me smile, and could picture myself rocking that lovely little girl to sleep, whispering how beautiful and cherished she is to GOD.  Yes, I could see myself with another little girl! 

But, I also wanted a boy.  Mike talked about how he never had a brother, and so how much he longed for Adrian to have that special relationship he’s never been blessed with; it made me want that for him too.  Plus, Mike had a boys name all picked out (and as much as I pretended I thought it was silly, it was actually quite nice; I just wanted him to “convince” me a bit more).  I had blue crib bumpers in the nursery that still made me feel calm, and could picture myself tucking in that gorgeous little boy, whispering how handsome and cherished he is to GOD.  Yes, I could see myself with another little boy! 

People would ask if we knew what we were having.  People would ask what we were hoping for.  People would comment on us having one of each already, so this one’s gender didn’t matter, right?  But it did matter, to me.  Because I really wanted another daughter!  But I also really wanted another son!  Though I didn't want two at once necessarily (which other than for about 36 hours in April, we knew wasn’t an option), I just couldn’t decide what my heart desired; I wanted both.  Despite it not being an available option, I wanted the "pink bowl!" 

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This week our family had another incident.  Like the last time, it happened in the early morning hours.  I was once again tired (oh-so down-right tired!); there was once again a good share of crying on the part of two generations; and once again my husband was there to help out.  But this time, instead of wrestling with my three and four year olds, I found myself in a fight with a newborn – their stubborn will against mine, both trying to set our own timing for their arrival.  And though they won (I have got to find a way past this multi-digit hours-long labor, not to mention the two week pre-labor this time!) it was one of my finest hours as a mother!  (Who knew that 6:00am EVER could be my finest hour?) 

And this time, instead of walking away, I have been spending the last day holding on tight, staying as close as I can to my new, beautiful DAUGHTER! 

Though I wanted a boy AND wanted a girl, though I couldn’t decide where my heart’s desire lied for the nine months prior to this, I knew without a doubt when Mike told me what we’d been blessed with, that I had just managed to somehow get the pink bowl!  Not because I got an option that wasn’t available, but because I got the option that GOD had picked for me.  GOD my Mother set that beautiful child down in front of me, sweeter than “Cinnamon Cereal,” and I knew that despite what I may have thought I wanted or what I could never quite decide on, this option is just right for me.  This option is filled with a lifetime’s supply of blessings, more than I will ever fully be able to take in.  Thank goodness GOD put Her foot down and chose for me; because this option is perfect! 

And welcoming them has certainly been among my finest hours indeed! 

Welcome to my little “pink bowl,” my cup of blessing overflowing, my …

Layla Josephine!!

Third Time's a Charm

It happened a few months ago - we ran out of toothpaste.  No big deal - being the always plan-aheader that I am, I had two new tubes waiting in the closet.  The problem is, they were two new tubes of the kind that were on sale.  AKA, not the same kind as we’d been using the last several months (you know, the kind previously on sale that I bought multiples of).  What’s the problem you ask?  The problem is, I don’t like change!  I spent several mornings and evenings trying to figure out why my mouth felt different, felt dryer, didn’t feel as ‘clean.’ Why I didn’t just buy the same toothpaste that I knew and was used to.  That’s the problem.

Ok, so it’s not a real “problem.”  But that’s me.  I attach myself to what I know.  And something as simple as a new toothpaste with its slight differences of taste, texture and moist/dry level, can make me feel like I’m lost in the unknown and out-of-control.

And in a strange way, that silly sale tube of toothpaste has proven itself a metaphor of sorts for my past nine months. 

* * * * * *

They tell you not to compare.  The doctors, magazines, online baby bulletins – “each woman, baby and pregnancy is different," you hear over and over again.  "So don’t compare this experience of pregnancy with others.  Not even your own.”  But I couldn’t not do that.  Because this time was SO different!  This time was harder.

Almost right away, this time felt different.  My body felt different, and not in a good way, from the very start, and I struggled with my changing body (including my earlier "pop") more this time than I remember with past pregnancies.  In addition, my first trimester this time had me far more sick - as in this time I actually threw-up a few times, on top of never feeling good to my stomach.  Come our second trimester and some relief from being sick, I moved on to dealing with back pain like I hadn't known previously; so many nights I cried as the aches just became too much by the end of the day and no comfortable position could be found.  This back pain went away almost completely as we reached our third trimester, only to be replaced by that wretched aching in front instead; known in medical terms as "round ligament pain;" this scary feeling was known by me as "OUCH!"  And on top of these ways in which this pregnancy has not been gentle to me, this baby too has literally not been gentle; as they grew bigger, their kicks, jabs, wiggles and stretches also grew exponentially.  All together, though the joy has still been there and I am still blessed to be able to be pregnant, there were few weeks when I could honestly say I was enjoying it (something I had said with past pregnancies).  Physically, this time has just been different, harder. 

Along with the physical differences, this pregnancy also carried with it a new variety of emotional struggles.  The physical challenges had me feeling lost, and at times completely out of control.  I have found myself scared this time - a more, different scared.  Scared of the odd pains and differences in the pregnancy.  Scared I'm getting too old for my body to handle this blessing of carrying a child, and thus the fear that maybe this will have to be our last (not what we had hoped).  Scared I won’t be able to handle the labor and delivery if the pregnancy itself was this much harder.  Scared of the drastic change that this third child in the household will mean for us all (remember, I don’t like change).  Scared I won’t make a good mother (though this fear is no different than usual).  Though fear has always been a part of my pregnancies (and mothering in general), this time it, like the physical elements, felt different, felt more.  And all together, I did not enjoy these changes and the new challenges that this pregnancy brought.  Without necessarily realizing it, I have attached myself to my previous pregnancies and their seemingly lesser challenges that I knew; over and over again these past nine months I have found myself missing what I was used to. For me, this third time has not been very charming! 

* * * * * *

Yes, I have spent a good deal of my past nine months comparing and complaining.  Just like my toothpaste experience, I have not enjoyed the change in pregnancy patterns and have found myself feeling lost in the unknown as I have had to let go of that which I knew. 

But the funny thing is that as soon as that sale tube of toothpaste was gone (“Finally!,” I thought), and we moved on to a new tube, a different tube, I found myself missing the dry-mouth toothpaste.  Our new toothpaste has such a strong flavor I can’t seem to rinse it out of my mouth; it’s so strong at times I swear there is mint up my nose and burning a hole in my throat!  I’ve used this kind before, but it somehow tastes different now.  It’s just not the same, and I don’t like change!  It seems the toothpaste I have recently been used to, even if it was new and very un-liked just a month or so ago, has become the new yardstick by which my mouth is now measuring my new toothpaste.  Oh, how perspectives change in just a short time!  Why didn’t I just buy the same toothpaste that I knew and was used to?  That’s my problem!  

* * * * * * 

OK, again I realize it’s not a real problem.  Yet I attach myself to what I know.  And as we find ourselves at 38 weeks today (the time when we had Lilly, and by which time Adrian was already with us for a week), I am realizing that waiting this long for a baby is not something I have had to know before.  I am attached to early deliveries (a blessing I thank GOD for!).  So on top of all the differences this pregnancy has had me noticing, I am not in favor of this change either.  Yet I know that when all is said and done, not only will it have been well-worth the struggles and the wait, but it just may be the new yardstick by which I measure any future (GOD-willing) pregnancies.  Maybe next time I’ll miss the challenge; miss the uncomfortably strong jabs in my ribs; miss the fatigue that got so bad it forced me to sit/lay down more often (thus forcing me to spend more time talking to, feeling and praying about my baby); miss the fears that had me connecting with GOD in a new and powerful way.  Maybe next time I’ll have a whole different perspective on how long a pregnancy should last and just how it should feel.  Maybe next time I’ll think back and realize that the third time wasn’t so un-charming after all! 

And whenever they arrive (please, please be soon!), I have no doubt that my perspective will change quickly.  Rather than complaining and comparing the pregnancy, I imagine that a part of me may instead grieve it being over.  The changes and challenges that will come with the new baby and growing household will now be my source of complaint and comparison.  Though perhaps this too will change, and despite the fact that having three kids to care for is not something I have had to know before, I imagine I will find myself at times in disbelief at how wonderful the change feels (far better than any new toothpaste)!  Not only will it be so well-worth the struggles and adjustments that took place during my pregnancy, but the new blessings that come with being a household of five just may be the new yardstick by which I measure future times in my life.  Maybe in a few months I’ll miss the soft glow of the room in the middle of the night when baby's no longer waking so often; maybe if we have another baby I'll miss being a family of five; maybe in six years when I’m putting them on the school bus I’ll miss my days home alone with them while on leave.  Maybe down the road I’ll have a whole different perspective on how a pregnancy and how a household should feel.  Maybe down the road I’ll think back and realize that this third time was incredibly charming!  

And dry mouth or strong mint flavor – whatever my days with this little one might end up looking like or whenever those days will start anew – I know that they will be a change I come to love, one I will look back on someday and miss as life has ushered in new changes since.  I know that this coming little “tube” of joy is, will be and has been, something I will attach myself to – with all my heart!