motherhood

Baby #3 | Third Trimester Recap

Juli

Spoiler Alert: I already had the baby.  But how does one recap something that isn’t over yet?

third trimester pregnancy photo

Third Trimester Recap

Feeling: Oh. My. Word.  I’m not sure if it’s the third baby thing, or the being-30 thing, but this pregnancy is kicking my butt!  I’ve got all kinds of ligament and pelvic pain I’ve never had before, this bump seems to weigh a hundred pounds, and I’m struggling to enjoy the end of this pregnancy because of it!  Trying to maintain perspective, that all of these aches and pains will soon switch to postpartum aches and pains, which are at least different!

Eating: EVERYTHING.  Since I’m not worried about swelling anymore (My feet always swell the last few weeks) I have gone back to carbs.  And chocolate.  And carbs with chocolate.  Essentially I want to eat  chocolate chip cookies all day every day.  And my oldest son just had a big confirmation party, so we’ve got chips and desserts all over the place that I’m packing away with no apologies.

Trying: To really savor the end of this pregnancy, and my time with my three boys before child #4 enters the picture.  My time with my personal space before someone is attached to me 24/7 for the next few months.  Trying to live very in-the-moment and not wish the days away, since this may be my last pregnancy (not that I’m really in control of that, now am I.)

Working on:  Not going into labor before our school musical (hubby and I put on the school musical every year.)  As in, sitting on the couch all day every day until the day of the musical, hoping to not mess it up for everyone!
Also actually being packed ahead of time.  I’ve never packed a “hospital” bag until I’m actually in early labor (it gives me something to do while waiting for active labor) but with this being baby #3 and living 45 minutes from my birth center, I think it wise to be pre-packed this time.

The Prayers of a Mother

Juli

My mother (and other wise mothers in my life) have always admonished me that prayer is a mother’s most powerful tool.  That having children of my own would cause me the height of all worry, and, in turn, anxious prayer.

They were right.

prayers of a mother

In no particular order, a prayer that:

That my toddlers don’t manage to poison themselves while I take a 5 minute shower

That someone is kind to my 13-year-old on his first day of a new school

That there is enough juice so I can avoid going to the store another day

That none of my children get hit by cars

That the dog isn’t foolish enough to get hit by a car, either, because it would devastate the kids

That whatever that banging noise is down the hall, is doesn’t cause permanent damage

That other people’s children who are unattended don’t fall through the ice on the river across the street

That I might have 5 minutes a day alone with my baby when he/she arrives

That my overly-affectionate toddler doesn’t actually throw or squash the babies he loves so much

That I’m not ruining my children by letting them watch Daniel Tiger

That I’m not giving my children diabetes by letting them drink gallons of orange juice

That the mysterious stain will come out of the couch upholstery.

That I will suddenly find patience, today

That no one shows up unannounced, because it’s so messy here

That some one will show up unannounced, because it’s lonely here sometimes

That no one gets sick and causes us to cancel our vacation plans

That my 4 year old won’t require stitches from learning to cut his fingernails

That I won’t get irretrievably fat from eating so much garbage while pregnant

That the baby gear I bought on Amazon isn’t poisonous or faulty

That my savvy 4-year-old doesn’t learn how to unbuckle his own car seat

That my 2-year-old will learn to use a toilet consistently before he’s 18

That “I NEED A BANDAID” is, as usual, a false alarm.

 

There are so, so many more.  But those mothers weren’t kidding – and it’s not formal, sit down type praying over my children.  It’s a constant running request line, almost subconscious, the alternative to which is constant panic.  Because I’m only one mother, and I only have two hands and two eyes (one of which doesn’t work very well) and I’m uncoordinated, out of shape, and any number of other faults that prevent me from being SuperMom.

 

 

 

The Witching Hour

Juli

Thoughts while sitting on the floor outside my 4-year-old’s room, listening to him scream and holding the door shut with my foot.

 

I can’t believe I’m in for another hour and a half of this.

My butt hurts.

My back hurts.

Scratch that, everything hurts.  I’m 6 months pregnant, for crying out loud.  This is not the best time to be sitting in my hallway on the floor for hours.

There has got to be a better (but still fitting) punishment than “timeout until Daddy comes home.”

Maybe the real problem is Daddy doesn’t come home early enough in the day.

It’s adorable that my 2-year-old thinks he needs to hold vigil here with me, chewing graham cracker crumbs all over the place and looking sympathetic.

Bet the teenager wishes he had something to do today after school.  Is it possible he will go stark raving mad before  5 pm, with all this screaming?

This would be a whole lot easier if I put his doorknob on backwards so it locked from the outside.  I’m sure that’s illegal.

This would also be easier if I was sitting with a glass of wine instead of coffee.  Pregnancy strikes again.

I wonder how dinner is going to get made.

I need to go through the baby clothes sometime and size them carefully and discard the super old stained ones.

Forgot to take the Christmas wreath off the kids’ door.  One decoration always gets left behind. Every year.

This toy chest my dad built the kids makes a great coffee table.  Being that it’s out here in the hallway with me.  Because the little boys were using it to climb up and open windows in the dead of winter.  Naturally.

Aaaaaand now my leg is asleep.

Somedaaaaay my prince will cooooome (at 5 pm.)

Now the dog has joined the camp-out.  If only this were actually for fun.

The screaming seems to have stopped.  What a relief.

Laptop has entered dim-to-save-battery mode.  Joy.

Is that the front door opening?  IS IT?!  I can’t leave my vigil to go and see, but dear sweet bejebus, I think it’s over.

To Work or Not To Work – Another Story

Juli

Deb posted the story of her working motherhood in this post recently, and I wanted to share mine, as well.

It’s quite opposite!  All mommas and all families are so very different.  And these two stories, which have unfolded in an intertwined way (we are besties in real life, if you didn’t know) puts me in awe of how our plans are not God’s plans.  I would never have pegged us for the kinds of moms we are today, had you asked me before we had children!

working mom or sahm

(Why a pie?  That’s a little later in the story!)

I never, ever, intended to be a stay-at-home mom.

In my early adulthood, I wasn’t even certain I wanted to have children at all!  But once I settled on a career path (education) I definitely decided that I was never “quitting my job” to “stay home and clean.”

Straight out of college (that would be 1 1/2 years into marriage) I got a teaching job.  I – surprise!- was pregnant with our first child during my second year of teaching.

I love teaching.  Teaching while pregnant wasn’t that difficult (I even directed a musical that first nauseating trimester!) and I had every intention of returning to work.  I took a 6 week maternity leave during which my (also a teacher) husband substitute taught for me, but I was itching to get back in that classroom.  My husband stayed home with our son, and off I went (breastpump in hand – what a drag!)  I had a student teacher in my classroom that year, and she’d play with the baby sometimes while I worked after school.  I found myself nursing a baby while meeting with colleagues in my classroom.  We played baby shuffle (husband dropped off baby after school, rushed to a job running a teen center after school hours, I returned baby in the evenings to direct music in church, attend extracurricular practices, etc.)

I was a working momma for two years.  I occasionally had to cancel a practice or bow out of an activity for a sick child, but it was definitely manageable.  I always scooted home for dinner and bedtime, often returning to my classroom after my son was sleeping to finish grading papers, preparing centers, writing up progress reports, or rearranging desks.  My students and colleagues loved my son and he enjoyed hanging around school.

Then the climate of my school shifted – administration changed, faculty began to turn over, some difficult families came through my classroom.  I began to feel burned out, like I was giving 120% to my job and getting little but Mom Guilt in return.

I actually had a second baby in order to quit my job with a clean conscience.

To be fair, we wanted another child and the spacing was ideal, anyway.

That spring, I realized that rather than trying to impart knowledge and life skills to 25 kids I hadn’t parented until the age of 13, I wanted desperately to be home with mine and parent them from the get-go.  I wanted to hang out laundry, and babywear, and make pie, and teach babies German, and read aloud, and go on walks.  I suddenly had a very clear vision of what I imagined my life to be like, and that job in that moment was not it.

So I directed one last musical while severely nauseated, wrapped up one last round of graduations and Algebra placement tests, packed up my classroom, and went home.

 

And it was a learning curve, don’t get me wrong.  I am by no means a born stay-at-home-mom – I’m scatterbrained, and sarcastic, and a night owl, and not patient, and massively disorganized, and prefer the company of adults or solitude.  I spent a few months drowning in my new role and having no idea how to manage homemaking or two small children or how to be a living person and not just a soggy mess.

But I’m also fiercely stubborn.  I was determined to make a success of this stay-at-home-mom gig.  I made schedules.  I made lists.  I planned activities.  I walked every day.  I drank a lot of coffee, and said a lot of prayers, and tried to learn patience and humility and self-denial.  I’m still learning all of those things every day.

But I’ve never regretted going on hiatus from teaching.  I fully intend to go back, when my youngest child is in kindergarten.  I still love the job ( I even substitute and help coach drama at my husband’s school, because I do miss the atmosphere and the big kids!) but I have learned to love being a professional mother.  I’ve learned to see it as a real vocation, with skill to be gained and talents to be applied.

 

I was not born a stay-at-home mom.  I’m not probably a typical one, either.  I don’t homeschool, I don’t iron, I don’t exercise, I don’t sell anything, I don’t manage sports teams, I don’t have “girls’ nights” or “Mommy and Me” mornings. But this is where our family ended up, and we are happy.  My husband is happily teaching full time, and I am working every day to make our home run smoothly and simply, getting my self-fulfillment from lots of coffee and blogging and YouTube, and spending these years with my goofy little boys.

 

And I rarely make pie.  (Pie makes me frustrated!) But I COULD if I wanted to!

working mom or stay-at-home mom

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To work or not to work? Is that the question? -deb

Juli

So your pregnant and are looking to the future. Are you going to stay home with your newborn or are you going to go back to work? It’s a question all new parents must struggle with. In sharing my story I’m hoping to give you some insights into why my family made the decisions we did as pertaining to working with kids.

When I caught baby fever, about a year into our marriage, my husband and I talked about how we wanted to raise our family and when it would work best for us to have our first child. We originally made plans that I would be a stay at home mom and we would adjust our budget to make that possible. This seemed like a perfect plan, my husband was on schedule with his schooling to get a full-time paid internship and then would only have one year of school left. We figured we could make the sacrifices needed to make our plans a reality.

When we found out we were pregnant with our first it seemed like our plans were falling into place.  God had different plans for us though, my husband’s school track changed. With my husband’s school track changing our plans changed and we decided that me working full-time would be the best decision for our family. My husband’s schedule changed to classes twice a week instead of everyday so he was able to be home with our daughter most of the time and when he had class we had been able to find an in home daycare for her to go to. I regretted not being home with her but I told myself that she slept most of the time anyway so I wasn’t missing much. I took advantage of every minute I was home with her though.

When our daughter was a year old I was able to be a stay at home mom. I thought I would rock at this job. This was my dream come true. I had all of my time to dedicate to my daughter and would be able to give her all my attention. I knew getting out would be key to my success, so we went to story time at the library. I had all this time and she was showing signs of readiness so we started potty training. I would had all sorts of time to do anything we wanted. It didn’t take long though till I was crazy and bored.

My daughter wouldn’t take naps when I wanted her to. I was unable to do even my short to do list. My daughter wanted me to sit and watch her play for hours. I couldn’t handle it. My one year old was emotionally draining me everyday and I wasn’t finding any joy in being with her. Although staying home was something I thought I wanted to do I was really struggling with this lifestyle mentally and emotionally.

I went back to work when my daughter was 19 months old. I worked full-time and sent my daughter to daycare. I was again struck by mom guilt with leaving my child under someone else’s care, but I realized I was able to enjoy spending time with her in the evenings and on the weekends instead of dreading the whole day when I woke up and didn’t really know what the day would bring.

I thought that maybe the number of kids affected my ability to stay home, so when we had our second child I again tried to stay home. It wasn’t the crazy boredom this time but the housekeeping that drove me crazy. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations for myself and just can’t let them go. I felt that since I was home all day there really wasn’t a reason why I couldn’t keep my house immaculately clean every day or cross items off my to do list every day.

So when I was offered a position to teach part time which I jumped on it, and here I am now working part time with three kids and for the most part enjoying the craziness that a busy schedule brings.

Do I think all parents should work? No. Do I think all families should have one parent at home with their kids? No, that has to be left up to each family to decide. I want people to realize that there is more to consider in the decision making process then can we afford this option or that option. Leave yourself open to both options if at all possible. Be aware that what you always saw for yourself as a parent may not be what works best for you in the trenches of parenthood.

Are you a stay at home mom or a working mom? Do you have any pointers on how you made the decision to work or not to work? Leave a comment below.

Tired SAHM? The Physical Task of Mothering

Juli

Nobody tells you that mothering (especially full-time, professional mothering) is such a physical job.  That “tired stay-at-home mom” is redundant.

If you try to list physically tasking jobs, likely to make the list are vocations like construction work, power-lifting, professional housekeeping, high-rise window-washing, nursing.  I can’t claim to have any personal experience with any of those careers, and I certainly don’t downplay any of them.

It was just a surprise to me.

And I’m not just talking about the physical aspects of pregnancy, delivery, and those first “lost weeks” postpartum.  Of course those are a Herculean physical strain, but I think those are decently well-recognized.

I’m talking about the long term.  The sleep deprivation doesn’t stop, it just changes.  After you teach your child to sleep through the night, you start sacrificing sleep to things like housekeeping, hobbies, tea with yourself, and worrying.
Instead of enjoying your soft pillows at 9:30, you lie awake until midnight thinking about things like taking bread of out the freezer for tomorrow, whether your toddler’s room is warm enough, if your husband’s alarm clock is set properly, how your ill friend is feeling, what errands you need to run tomorrow, the new parenting theory you are planning to try.

Once you’re up for the day, the cooking and cleaning begins.  These are physical tasks in their nature, but please add to that effort a 20 pound toddler on your hip or in a carrier.
There is walking the dog and/or running errands.  Which sounds easy, but actually requires pushing a stroller/cart (maybe a double or triple) with somewhere between 20 and 80 pounds of child in it, and holding back an overly-enthusiastic pooch who wants to follow every pedestrian home.

The bending.  The stooping.  The heavy lifting and repetative motions and chasing and hoisting and bending into cribs.
The Legos.
Then the wrestling of a kicking screaming toddler to a timeout, or a bathroom, or an unwanted nap.  The holding and pacing and singing with the ever-growing baby, which may take up to an hour before he falls asleep.
You are a human jungle gym.  A toddler falling down will use a tiny portion of your arm or leg skin as a handle.  A baby wanting a kiss will slam his forehead into your teeth.  Someone learning about body parts will jam a jagged fingernail into your eye, nose, ear, or belly button.

All of that physical exertion and damage is separate from nursing a baby for weeks, months, or years.  If you choose to do that, you are quite literally sitting without moving for up to an hour at a time, 8 or more times a day.
You can bet your child will only sleep held in that position, some days, or will only nurse in certain ways that leave you with neck cricks and sleeping legs.  There might also be pumping, which is just as (if not more) uncomfortable, but without the perk of baby snuggles.  And if your baby happens to sleep extra long, you don’t!  You set yourself an alarm and get up to pump.  Or risk mastitis.  Y’know.

(This in no way is meant to discount the role of fathering.  Here is my sweet husband, falling-down exhausted with each of our infants.  Incidentally, two of my favorite photos of all time.)

I hope the cute factor of the photos to accompany this post help drive home my true objective:

Mothering will wreck you.  Hopefully, this is temporary.  (I haven’t yet come out the other side, so I can’t promise anything!) Your metabolism, hormones, physical appearance, eye bags, sleep, joints… these may never be the same.

But honestly, what better to give yourself for?  What more awesome task can there be, than to relinquish selfishness of your physical body in order to serve your family?  At the end of the day, you may be completely depleted, but all of that energy and effort went into your kids.  You’ve poured from what the Lord has given you into others.

Tiny, snuggly, adorable others.

It’s worth it.

Loneliness

admin

Professional motherhood is great in a lot of ways.  But goodness, it’s lonely.

It seems nearly impossible to find anyone that is actually in my same season of life.
I meet lots of wonderful middle aged folks.
Lots of wonderful peers who don’t have children.
Lots of mothers with small children who work outside the home.

And maybe this is low self-esteem talking, but none of these people can possibly really want me in their life.
With me comes two messy, loud, funny little boys.
A definite schedule of being in my home during nap time, every day.
The truth that I will fall asleep on the couch by 9 pm (if you’re lucky.)
A 30-year-old who wants to be treated as an equal adult, not like your psuedo-children that you are “helping get a start in life.”
A mom who wants to talk about anything other than her job of raising children, but can’t for the life of her stop talking about them.

People can’t possibly fit all of that into their hearts, can they?

And I’ve met lovely people recently.  People who are very kind and friendly and welcoming (we moved six months ago) and even say things like, “We should get together for coffee/dinner/board games some time!”

I have never actually gotten together with any of these people.
They never actually went the next step of making plans.
Which means the suggestion was just a nicety.

Surely, out here in the wide world of the internet, there are other mothers who feel lonely.  And that is why I’m writing and recording.

Let me assure you, there are more of us!
This is the beauty of the internet.  Though it has its share of mom-shaming and political saturation and “perfect” life comparisons that leave you feeling irritated and down on yourself, it also has community – if you can find it.

Leave a comment.
Watch a video.
Visit the Facebook page and post.
This is your official invitation to join me for coffee!  Right now, today.  You will get a response.   I can relate – so can lots of others.

Let’s stop being lonely.