Growing Family

To You, Daughter, When You Became Four

Darling Sproutje,

It was on the trip to Currarong that I saw you, contrasted against your friend, and the lines and colors of your person-hood were so clear that I laughed. You, always in a dress, always deep in make-believe, always looking for beauty, and finding it.

You might not remember, but I think I always will, the day we collected shells on the beach.

From one end of the beach to the other - from cliff to jetty there were millions and billions of tiny shells. The whole beach was shells. When our happy party broke from the bush line, out of the trees, and onto the beach, in expectant search of a shipwreck, you plopped down and focused on all those minuscule delights. We tried to persuade you to come see the shipwreck, to explore, to continue, but you were too deep into the world of sea shells. You learned the word "iridescent" and have used it appropriately and passionately ever since. You filled up a large bucket, one by one, and were later beside yourself with grief when they were upset into the dirt path and you wailed "It will be so hard to wash all of them!"

You are so fierce, and I have it recorded in numerous pictures - you yelling straight into the camera with all the savagery and braveness of a ruler. While I protect you, I do not fear for you in the world, or your place in it. I have seen you, often enough, wade into a crowd of boys and girls heads taller than you, to make a place for yourself.

Like at Small Sun's Grandparents' Day concert, where I couldn't find you anywhere, and realized you must be up front, singing with your brother, despite the fact that you are not a student at the preschool and do not know the songs. A tiny shimmer of golden hair next to your brother's shoulder confirmed my suspicions.

And you are also kind. Really, very, wonderfully kind in a way that makes my heart sing. 

Sometimes your brother asks you for things he shouldn't. Sometimes I want to draw a line for you to say "you don't need to give him that," but I see how big your heart is to offer him what is yours, with no consideration at all. I see how you respond to him when he is hurting, how you offer a hug and a pat and kind words. You are only small, but you are a very big person.

 Today we were meant to go to the beach. We had a wonderful party planned. When it rained all week, and was still raining this morning, we changed plans and had a beach party inside instead. 

We had our morning tea boxes on beach towels in the living room, instead of the sand. 

We feasted on beachy cupcakes, and you were thrilled with the whole event, even though the beach party you had been anticipating for weeks, was rained out. You're that kind of girl.

At the end of the day, while I was filling the washer with laundry, you were wandering around the garden saying "I miss my friends. I wish they could all be here forever!" And, on the way home from eating Mexican food for dinner, your voice rang out from the backseat "can I go to school tomorrow? I want to go to school!"

You see, you're the first thing that stayed in my womb and grew and grew and grew until at four in the morning, after 28 hours of travel, you emerged smooth, and white, with the rosiest lips. In my mind's eye everything is dark except your white, white skin, and that pinkest mouth. 

And now, you're such a big girl, as big as the three story dollhouse I painted and wallpapered and sewed for, only to position it at the end of your bed while you were sleeping so that you would wake up to it on your birthday morning. When you did, you hugged me and said "I dreamed two dreams last night. One was a dollhouse, and one was a horse and it kissed me!"

You are a dreamer, and you are perfect. You are four, and I love you.

Mommy

 

Life is Packed

The last couple weeks have been mad. Did I mention that my boys' birthdays are two days apart? The last couple of weeks have been preparation for The Birthday Week. First came Small Sun's birthday which included taking 50 donuts to both preschool classes and staff. Then, we celebrated wee Finch's first year two days later. The day after that came the big party that they shared. 

Why can't I do small parties? My new mantra is "the McDonald's birthday is your friend!". I just get all taken over with creative ideas and inspirations and I want to sculpt a personal statue of each child and deliver it with an original poem on paper that contains sunflower seeds so each child can plan a garden of happiness like my little son is to me. Ha, I just get more and more inspired...and stressed...and the parties grow, and grow and grow.

26 children attended, each with attached parent(s) and adults who are important parts of our children's lives. It might be easier to have smaller functions if Small Sun wasn't so extremely social...and if I wasn't so social that would help too. 

Small Sun had very specific ideas for this birthday. The cake should be a crocodile with Steve Irwin jumping on its back, and it should be attached to a turtle cake for Finch. I talked him down to turtle cupcakes.

 

The real stress in all of this is that it was supposed to be an outdoor bash at this lovely park with tons of open space and multiple play areas for different ages. Our kids LOVE this park. As the week went on, it got colder and rained off and on. The forecast kept changing. Finally, on Thursday, I booked the local Scout Hall just in case and Saturday morning, when it was pouring, we decided to hold the party there. So now I was responsible for 60+ people in an unattractive hall, and so we needed entertainment. Entertainment is not my thing, but I manage to come up with some crafts and some games to get us through.

  

 

The party was a big success. Small Sun loved the cake and the talking Steve Irwin doll. We played pass the parcel (An Australian/New Zealand must-have party game for children), and had a sack race upon Small Son's insistence. The rain cleared to reveal a beautiful blue sky and wonderful sunshine.

 

 

Finch devoured his entire green iced cupcake as if he was saying "where has this sugar thing been all my life?" Saturday morning we shared our last nurse together, and that afternoon he was consuming boxed cake mix. On the way home from the party, a massive rainbow filled the sky, coming right down over our neighborhood. 

Sunday we moved Finch into the "big kids'" room and today I gave him a haircut. Life is packed.

The night after the party, I had all sorts of crazy dreams about Nashville and being back in the U.S. I go in just a couple weeks and I have lots of thoughts and feelings anticipating my first trip "home". Now, with Birthday Week successfully behind us, I turn my attention to prepping for my cousin, who is flying here to nanny for the two little kids while Small Sun and I fly east. It's all a little bit crazy right now. There's so many things for me to write about, and I just don't seem to have the time to get anything down here!

Saturday Evening Post

Our life is new and improved in many ways. First of all, there's Finch, OBVIOUSLY. While he looks a lot like the Sprout did as a baby, this new baby experience couldn't be more different from my last, or from my experience bringing Small Sun home.

Finch is over two weeks old and I am not sleep deprived. He sleeps stretches of at least four hours at night, and one night even did seven. So if I go to bed early, we are doing 2 or 3 feedings a night and I am getting a total amount of decent sleep. He's nursing like a champion. Really, he's nursing at two weeks like The Sprout was at six weeks. Other than the discomfort of my milk coming in and a few days of him learning to latch correctly, creating a nursing bond with him has been totally easy. Again, completely different from last time.

Even though Finch is tiny tiny and already has a cold, I am completely stress free. At the risk of sounding redundant, so different from the first two times!

Becoming a mother for the first time was challenging and I can remember a lot of panicky, stressed, nervous, fearful feelings mingled in with the pure delight. Then, The Sprout's delivery ended up being quite traumatic and the first weeks of her life are cloaked in a kind of grey stupor of weeping and pain (I kid you not). There are some beautiful moments, but really, I mostly remember the pain.

I am challenged in other ways this time - helping two very bouncy kids adjust their attitudes, while nursing, is not easy - but I am not overwhelmed. We're just kind of coasting along. TV is my friend. Very short to do lists are my friend. Keeping low expectations of what we can do is my friend. Saying "I need help with that" a million times a day is my friend.

I'm breaking my baby rule with this baby. Before I stayed in for a minimum of a couple weeks, or at least avoided crowds and germs fests, to give my babies a chance to build up their immune systems. I told all my friends that I wouldn't be seeing them for awhile because I'd be in baby quarantine...but I didn't do it after all. A few days after we got out of hospital I went to a street festival, then church, lunch at a cafe, family grocery shopping, a trip to the mall, then home group, and today another lunch out. That's how I ended up changing Finch's diaper at the park today. It ended with him doing the extra poo all over the diaper, then switching to the rocket pee as I tried to clean the poo up. And you know what dressing a newborn on your lap is like, right? All floppy head and flailing limbs? Well, doing it on a winter's day, outside, with a baby working up an appetite expressed through a scream...well, not so fun. But the point is, I haven't been able to keep us inside. I want to see people and get out! I think letting myself break that rule is doing a lot to keep the blues at bay.

I can imagine this is an incredibly boring post, but it's one for the record. We had a lovely Saturday taking new family photos with friends. All the kids are still sleeping off the adventure. The Captain is sitting in our new comfy leather chair, reading Dutch magazines. The living room is warm and cozy because of our new super-heater. In fact, this is my second Sydney winter, but I have only felt warm since we bought this heater. Dusk is settling, the fridge is full of yummy leftovers we can call dinner, I just woke up from a two hour nap and ate a yummy muffin, and life is good.

And On the Sixth Day...

...they kicked her out of the baby hotel, and she came home with a small, warm bundle, to a house exploding with the energy of a two and four year old. A two and four year old who desperately missed their mommy and needed the re-establishment of normal in a very bad way.

And though she was calm and collected in the baby hotel, upon returning home she was undone and overwhelmed, and burst into tears. Yet somehow everyone napped, and somehow she made dinner, and somehow she'll get through the night, and somehow they'll find a new normal.

And even though her br*asts are emitting a constant high-pitched whimper that turns into toe-curling screetching every time she feeds her baby, she knows that this too will pass. Really it's all been lovely and dreamy, and wonderful. It's just that they should send mothers home from the baby hotel with little warning signs flashing on their foreheads, "fragile, may erupt into tearful blubbering at any moment, choose music carefully as certain Coldplay melodies may bring on a torrent."

******************************

We're home, safe and sound. The Captain, Kohana, Small Sun, The Sprout, and...FINCH. Go ahead and bask in his yumminess as the pictures will only stay up for a couple days!

Edited to Delete Photos.

About an hour old

 
First Day

 
Six days old

34.5

In 34.5 hours my son will be delivered and I'll be holding him and seeing him for the very first time.

Now that it's so close, I wonder if we should just let nature take its course and let labor develop? A planned c-section brings the end of pregnancy into startling focus. Even though I'm feeling big and sore and I want to meet my baby so much, I am also sad that this experience is almost over. Who knows if I will ever experience this again?

It's hard to savor the final moments when you're no longer comfortable. I want to remember this feeling forever, but memories fade.

I am simultaneously leaning forward and holding back. I am in the middle of a 34.5 hour tunnel: part of me wants to run back and part of me wants to run forward. It's crazy like that.

I'm Still Here

Having a third baby is very different from the first two. I am so! busy! I want to slow down and rest but it is just not happening.

Today marks our entrance into the "big sticker week". I had the kids put stickers on the calendar to mark the upcoming events. Small Sun was asking every day if it was his birthday, or if the baby was being born that day, so a visual on the calendar and ticking off the days helped him understand better.

Today my father-in-law and sister-in-law arrive from Holland. They will be such a help with the big kids when I'm in the hospital! So they come tonight. Tomorrow we will celebrate Small Sun's 4th birthday with a big party at a play center where they coordinate all the birthday prep for you: cake, gift bags, games, food for adults, the whole deal. All we do is show up and host our guests! Small Sun is really excited!

Tuesday is Small Sun's actual birthday. We'll keep that low key with a few presents and a special birthday dinner. Then, on Thursday I go in at 5:30 a.m. for a c-section scheduled for 7 a.m. The big kids should be able to come visit their new brother by 9 or 10 that morning!

Needless to day, life has been very busy. I took 50 donuts to Small Sun's preschool class yesterday for his birthday. I've been helping a friend with moving. Cleaning house, cooking, laundry...getting ready for company.

In the meantime I've had steady contractions and was nearly certain on two occasions that I was going into full labor. We've set the c-section date at 39 weeks and some odd days, so it is entirely possible that baby could come early. At my last check up the OB said "this baby is ready, he's getting big, it's time to be born!" I am still active and have decent energy (thank God for iron pills, they are changing my life! I wonder how long I've been exhausted due to low iron?) and am sleeping well at night. But I am big and increasingly awkward and uncomfortable. When the baby presses his legs out and his head down, I feel like he's going to explode out of me like a rocket!

The Captain went to St. Mary's Cathedral this week and prayed for our new son. God spoke some specific stuff to him about this baby, as He has about each of our children. At this point I'm just hugging my belly every day and waiting, excited, to be able to kiss this little person! That said, I have a very small window of time to wash the floors while The Captain has the kids with him at the grocery store. Off I go!

Piddling

It's three a.m. so I apologize if this makes no sense in the daylight.

This baby is absolutely piddling. My due date isn't until the 25th and the c-section is scheduled for the 21st. I have had SO much pre-labor with this little guy and spent the whole day today (yesterday?) paying attention to contractions that continued all day and night but didn't accelerate into labor.

Now here I am, out of bed in the middle of the night because the baby is moving so much and the contractions were hurting enough that I just couldn't stay in bed anymore.

If the baby wants to come now, fine, so be it! Just come already! I am getting worn out from all this not-labor! I spent the whole day yesterday resting because every time I tried to do stuff the intensity of the contractions sent me back to bed.

I want my contractions to pretty much stop or for a definitive move towards labor, like my water breaking, so I can go to the hospital. Of course I don't want this to happen at 3 in the morning, five days before our help arrives, but I'm just so tired!

Okay, toast has been eaten and I'm back to bed to try to get some more sleep!

The Giant Stretchy

At this point, the little bun in my oven is gaining about an ounce a day. My skin is trying to come to terms with that fact, but I think my skin might be on the losing end of this battle.

This morning I received the most gorgeous package from my sister. A lovely box covered in magazine photos for wrapping paper. I'd take a photo if the battery in the camera wasn't dead.

Inside the box I discovered a bottle of rich, creamy, thick lotion: bath junkie lemon verbena and vanilla. Super yummy.

Experts say that no amount of topical lotion, no matter how expensive, is going to prevent stretch marks. I spoke to a midwife who said it's what you take internally that makes the difference (a tablespoon of raw pressed oil a day, lots of water, and zinc supplements) and I'm trying to keep up with that. At the end of the day, though, I am turning to the lot on my bedside table, hoping to save my skin.

Vitamin E oil, Rose lotion, and now the Bath Junkie line up like little soldiers, fighting for my epidermis. 

I am still sleeping through the night rather comfortably, and rarely get up for any (ahem) reason. I have less indigestion than I did last time as this baby is lowwwwwww. And while there is a definite waddle to my gait, I can still tie my own shoes...most of the time. Not bad for 36 weeks, eh?

But by the end of the day my belly is often red and angry with the giant stretchies, and my back and uterus feel incapable of carrying the weight of baby any longer. If I try to stand and wash the dishes at the end of the day, my body is screaming! In general, my "to-do" lists are getting shorter and shorter. When hubby asks me what we did in the day, I am happy if I can list one or two things accomplished, and I leave out vivid descriptions of me sitting on the couch, propped up with every pillow available, or sneaking to my room to lie in bed for a couple minutes while the kids are busy with something. I don't want him to think I just lie around all day! (Even though I lie around as much as I can manage!)

So that's it. I am one giant stretchy. My shape is losing its pert circularness and deteriorating into sagging ovals. I think I'll go shopping soon to buy some post-baby things to pamper myself with. Not skinny jeans, mind you, more like comfortable cardis (cardigans, you non-Aussie readers!) and socks without holes.

Ah, socks without holes. What could be better than a new baby and socks without holes? Sigh. Grin.

From 2 to 3

Only six weeks and two days until we become a family of five. Time seems to be simultaneously hurtling forward, and dragging by. I am so eager to meet the new baby, and it seems like it is taking forever! But then each week I blink and the week is gone, eaten up in playgroup and play-dates and preschool and church meetings and errands and birthday parties and girl's nights and book clubs.

We bought a car seat on Saturday. The plan was to go peruse the options and then look for the favored model second hand, but after trying the only four "narrow" seats in the back of our wagon, and having only one fit where we can still close the door, we went ahead and bought it. Having a car seat sitting there, ready to go, well that feels like a big deal to me.

I thought that I would be more nervous about transitioning from two kids to three kids, but strangely, I am feeling completely calm. Now that we've got the birth plan (I'll lie still while the OB cuts the baby out), and the childcare (blessed in-laws coming to stay) worked out, I am significantly less stressed. Having three kids under four isn't worrying me at all.

Perhaps it is perspective? I know the first six months or so are likely to be VERY challenging, and I expect to feel like I'm going back to ground zero with productivity/freedom/etc. If I can keep my children fed, clothed, hugged, and get Small Sun to preschool, I will have accomplished my six month goals for our family. If that means ordering over-priced groceries online to be delivered to my door, letting the kids wear goofy outfits, snuggling on the couch while they watch too much tv and movies, and being the "bad parent" who doesn't volunteer to help with anything, anywhere, so be it.

I worry about not being able to pick up and snuggle Small Sun and the Sprout. I worry about it raining a lot this fall and us being stuck inside, snarling at each other. But really, I don't worry much.

New Baby will come. We'll all be ecstatic. We'll take it easy and rely on the help of friends and family (three rounds of reinforcements spending a total of 8 weeks with us over a four month period), we won't look too closely at the baseboards or the ceilings or under the claw-foot tub. We'll spend lots of time cuddling and eating take out.

I have a really good friend here who has three kids. Her baby is five months old, and her son is four. I don't know how she's survived the last six months, truly. But she didn't slow down. She didn't say "no". She just kept up the same pace. I don't think I can do that and stay sane. To me, having a new baby means we hunker down in the family bunker, we hang a permanent "NO" sign to the rest of the world, at least until we're ready to rejoin society.

With Easter coming up, The Captain and I were talking about how our church here has so many Easter services and attending holiday services is a big part of the church culture we're in. For both of us growing up, holidays were a time when we attended church very little, even foregoing Sunday services, as our families believed that the sharing of faith is most salient within the walls of our home, with our families. We would close the doors to huddle together to read the scriptures, to share the outworking of our faith in our lives, to eat together, savoring the blessing of family, which is the gift of God. I don't think it is selfish or indulgent to turn inward (bringing others into our family circle, at times) instead of participating in outward activities, during momentous occasions.

So, maybe I'm being naive. Maybe it will be harder than I think. I really don't know. I just expect it to be hard and beautiful as it was when Small Sun came home, and when The Sprout was born.

I am finding that I am more excited about the arrival of this baby than I was with the first two. With Small Sun I felt so much hesitation, trying to identify when he was really "mine" and I could give him my whole heart without encroaching on his mother's time. With The Sprout I had mothered a newborn, but I hadn't experienced the resulting baby after giving birth. Being pregnant was to carry mystery inside me. Now I know the before and after: the kicks inside that take my breath away, that very soon will become little feet tucked against my ribs as I nurse.

I am surprised to find that my two children are very grown up these days. At almost 2.5, The Sprout is potty trained, sleeping in a toddler bed, and can put on her own clothes. At nearly 4, Small Sun is able to help in SO many ways. This is completely different than when Small Sun was 1.5 and I had a new baby. I know their ages may present different challenges, but they are not babies that need me to do everything for them. At the same time, they were babies so recently, that I am not too far out of the habit of diapers and night feedings. I think the fact that they seem so "big" and capable is helping me not feel too concerned.

I'd love to hear feedback from other mothers about the transition from two to three, and about recovering from a c-section. This isn't a beautiful post, but it is a record of how I'm feeling, on the cusp of three!

Circles

I am a study in circles. I even thought about making a toothpick creation to illustrate, with olives and cherry tomatoes and the like...but then I got hungry and ate some lunch (healthy lunch, people!).

I always fall firmly in the "hourglass" category, but then my waist thickens in pregnancy (understatement of the century!) and everything gets more and more round. You know those women who are lean and long and their pregnant bellies just kind of cling to them with bits of sinew and scotch tape, like they could just pop off and roll away? Well I am not one of those women.

You see, I am an empathetic person and even my body responds in sympathy to my growing womb. The rest of me doesn't want my belly to look out of proportion on my body, so it grows as well. Huge round breasts. Giant round belly (going more lopsided these days as this baby presses the boundaries of decency in his efforts to get comfortable). And yes, a really giant bubble butt. It is verging on comical.

The only thing funnier than this round body is the fact that in a few more weeks the breasts will grow even more as the rest of me shrinks. At that point I might end up like a unbalanced stroller where the shopping bags hanging on the handles pull the whole thing over when the child climbs out. I recently saw an add for a nursing bra where there were tiny cranes lifting all the seams to offer support that is supposedly unmatched. Yes, I think I will need one of those bras with built in crane action, I kid you not.

Many of my friends here are Asian and fall into the stereotype - size 2, less than 100 lbs (post kids!), boyish figures. Next to them I am a circular giant. In a group of them I am the answer to the song "One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just isn't the same..." One friend, presumably not knowing her lack of tact, exclaims "you are so big! How can you get bigger?!", and asks to squeeze my fingers, saying "are your hands swollen or are your fingers so big!" I absorb it all with good humor. They don't know what I know.

In the next seven weeks I can get much, much bigger than this! To comfort myself on days where I have trouble getting up off the couch, I remember the pictures of the last couple of days in my first pregnancy. My belly was like a watermelon turned longways, away from my body. Forget mini-cranes for the breasts, I nearly needed a walker just to support that belly!

So yes, sometimes I cry snottily onto The Captain's tshirts (after careful maneuvering to be able to position myself that close to him), something muffled but resembling "snufflesnufflebigfatcowsnufflestretchmarksnuffleneverrecoversnufflejustwanticecream". But most of the time I just shake it off and acknowledge that this, this study in circles, is what my body does. I am eating well, I am chasing after two kids, I am working in the garden, I am pressing into life even when I'm tired. I'm doing my best to not add to the roundness. Now, if I can just keep my chin up for seven more weeks, the numbers on the scale will begin to fall and I'll be able to hug my husband again.