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turned around and upside down. (54)

I came a little unglued today. The calendar can’t win with me lately, because I’m either wishing I had more time to get things done before baby comes, or I’m wanting the next six or seven weeks to hurry up so our little one is here. I want to savor this pregnancy as I have the others, but it has been the hardest by far and each day pushes me in new ways than before.

Not complaining. Just being truthful.

There are still a lot of days where I feel pretty well considering how far along I am and how much I try to do in a 24 hour period, but then there are days like today, when I feel like I’m paying for all of my recent activity and then some. I haven’t rested very well since about 26 weeks, so I’m a bit short on sleep. I know this magnifies moments that wouldn’t otherwise phase me. It’s just a tough dance between wanting to be joyful and upbeat about everything, but sometimes being completely miserable in spite of every best effort.

Baby can’t seem to decide where to settle. He or she has been breech for a number of weeks, but also moves around constantly. It’s not the flutters and kicks I remember well from the past, but more like tumbling and punching throughout the day and for most of the night. Of course there was tumbling and punching with the other two as well, but I really do feel like my entire middle section is one large bruise. Sometimes it’s hard not to be a little defeated by my inability to get comfortable.

I need baby to settle and to flip into the right position so that we can both rest just a bit. I really do. If you’re the praying kind and you’re reading this, I would so appreciate you offering up a little prayer that baby would sort him or herself out in the right direction. 🙂

I still want to be so engaged with the kids, and I’m taking every opportunity that I can. I’m sure by now they’re tired of hearing, “No, honey, I’m sorry,” or, “I can’t right now, but after the baby comes I will definitely be able to do that again.” It’s not what they want at all. It’s not what I want. I’d love to be able to pick up Eloise and tote her around with ease, but that’s all changing, and it’s a stage that’s not going to end for a while. I hope that she’s not past the “Can I hold you?” phase before I’m able to accommodate again.

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This might capture a bit of how we’re all feeling in moments lately. Eloise, I love you, and I’d hold you all day long if I could!

I’m often searching for the thing behind the thing when life feels hard or I’m struggling through an issue. What is the lesson in it? What can I take away? How does this experience make me a stronger/better/more compassionate/more flexible person?

I keep asking myself these same questions throughout this pregnancy, but I suspect the clarity will come on the other side of it when I’m holding our baby daily (or perhaps, long after). It’s not lost on me that I can’t see everything, and that God can use every bit of the daily pain and harder challenges to strengthen me as a person. I’m grateful for that part. I just wish I was more able to weather it all with grace on days like today.

Sometimes I get it wrong, sometimes I get it right. And sometimes, although I know how I want to respond, internal, external, physical and hormonal factors prevent me from just gliding through the moment with finesse. I’m learning best of all in this pregnancy that my ability to control things is limited. Maybe I should have that lesson down far better by now, but apparently it’s something I still need to practice.

Tonight, I’m thankful for some respite from the physical pain I was in earlier today, and I’m so grateful that Jason and my mom were here to run interference on the home front while I took a long and unanticipated rest this afternoon. I don’t always do well to acknowledge my limitations, and I prefer just to soldier through. Sometimes a husband/mom duo is the only combo that creates space for me to give in to where I really am, to shed tears if they need to come, and to be honest with myself about what I’m actually feeling.

So many emotions. A lot of physical challenges this time. But day by day, week by week, we’re baby steps closer to this little one who will bring so much joy. Of course it will all feel worth it then, and the clear recollection of the hard parts will slip away. It’s one of those things that God knew needed to be the process, right? So that we could bear the difficulties for a season, be motivated to give birth when the time is right, and then be so head over heels in love with our new babes that we would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

I can’t wait for that day, or that feeling, but I don’t want to rush it.

slow and steady wins the race. or has a baby. 😉 thank goodness for the baby part!

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risky fruit. (55)

“Why not go out on a limb? Isn’t that where the fruit is?” -Frank Scully

Life is full of risk-taking opportunities. I’m not sure I’d say I’m a risk-taker in an adventuresome, thrill-seeking kind of way, but I’ve taken my share of risks in other ways and grown because of it.

-I’m willing to take chances. When Jason and I had been married for three months, we moved to Africa for a year. This was by no means the easiest decision, nor was it the smoothest experience. We lived in a hard, often times dark place. We traveled dangerous roads and spent time in communities where even some Africans would not go. We were sometimes lonely, frequently pressed, and definitely green at doing life together as a couple, too.

I can’t say I wasn’t fearful; I was.

But between a year of life there newly married and the times I’d spent living in Africa before, the continent taught me more about putting my faith in God and taking risks while trusting Him than any other experience. Taking that chance was necessary for growth. So many chances have been.

-I say what I mean. I do my best to choose my words carefully and to think before I speak, but I’m not afraid to be honest. This hasn’t always been the case. I’ve grown into it more as an adult, but particularly as a mom. There’s something about motherhood and becoming “mama bear” that moves you more easily toward this risk, I think.

The fear in me to defend myself or my family is nearly gone. I can’t hesitate to speak up where necessary, because the alternative risk is too great. This can be so hard sometimes, but it’s also good. Taking ownership of raising our children a certain way and loving our family unit well is something Jason and I are willing to risk. This can come at a cost, but it almost always comes with reward, too.

I pick my battles on issues and raise the ones that matter most to me. Maybe this doesn’t seem like a risk, but the more I think about it, I feel like taking chances with people is one of the hardest risks of all.

Relationships matter. Words matter. Hearts matter.

-I pursue birth with a strong desire to own what happens to me and to our babies. This is one of my greatest passions, and also one of the biggest risks I’ve taken in life. Investing time and resources into staying informed, having hard conversations with medical practitioners, and constantly being proactive regarding my own care and the care of our babies in pregnancy and birth feels like swimming upstream sometimes. But it matters so much to me.

Birth is risky. It’s an entirely natural process, yes, but there are so many factors that play into getting pregnant, being pregnant and delivering a baby that choosing to try at all is, in and of itself, risky. Sometimes the choice comes with deep, deep heartache–often for longer than anyone can fathom.

When pregnant, what our bodies do and what we feel and go through can be both amazing and intense. Giving birth is an otherworldly experience, with an end result that is most often incredible, but sometimes heartbreaking, unexpected or hard.

Being committed to opening your heart and life to growing a family is risky. Being pregnant is risky. Becoming a parent is risky. But when I think about the alternative risk of not being open to how God might want to grow a family, I’m thankful to feel called to the other choice.

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This countdown to baby has made me so aware, each time, of both the beauty and risks that await us in the days ahead. Lord willing, we will get a number of weeks down the road from now and I will go into labor gracefully. Baby will arrive into this world full of life and health and possibility, and we will document every memory and wonderful moment together as a family of five. And yet, nothing is guaranteed in this life, and I know that. I’m going to be hopefully optimistic, anyway.

I think risk can be the balance of understanding the possible outcomes in front of you, and in spite of the hard ones that exist, looking toward the very best ones and expecting good things to come.

Why not go out on a limb? Isn’t that where the fruit is?

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The greatest fruit in my life has always come out of the riskier endeavors. Fruit from the riskiest limb is not the easiest to reach, for sure, but it’s turns out to be the sweetest when you pluck it down and, forever after, carry it with you.

always new limbs in sight,

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haikus for the third trimester. (56)

I’ve never been good/at haikus my husband said/you write them instead.

We’re forty five days into this one hundred day “blogging for baby” extravaganza, and honestly, there are nights when a topic is hard to come by. Jason challenged me to mix it up a bit and to craft a handful of pregnancy haikus, so here goes:

Regarding the bump: “You’re how far along?”/Awkward sizing up moment/”Bet you’re having twins.”

Regarding food: Two bites and I’m full/but twenty minutes later/I’m famished again

Regarding age: Thirty four years young/Two babes at home and growing/third one on the way

Regarding sleep: Insomnia reigns/Belly owns the sprinkler move/Left side for the win

Regarding baby prep: Babies don’t need much/but Pinterest tells us they do/instead, feed, hold, love

Regarding birth: There’s no “right” way/every birth is different/do what works for you

Regarding postpartum: Rest is at a low/mama needs to eat and nurse/baby snuggles close

 

Ok, maybe not my best go, but I’m committed, at least 😉 Haven’t broken out a haiku since college (I don’t think). Thanks, hubs.

waxing poetic with a side of sleepy,

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32 week bump!

32 week bump!

 

 

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if you can’t stand the heat… (57)

…get out of the kitchen. Or so the saying goes, right? It’s possible that I’ve taken this a tad too much to heart lately, which is why I’m here tonight with a plea for a little culinary inspiration from my friends.

It’s hot, is it not? I looooove hot summer days, but it turns out that a third pregnancy in the summer heat feels a tad different to me than a second (I thought being pregnant with Eloise in the summertime was fantastic), and I am giving it my all to embrace these consistently 90º temps paired with 32 weeks of baby in utero.

I’m spending a bit more time in the air conditioning than I’d hoped, and a little less in the sunshine. I want to be outside…so badly. But I’m also keenly aware that more than an hour or two of keeping up with our kiddos in the heat with this humidity will push me into a bad place in more ways than one. As such, this summer has been a humbling exercise in acknowledging my limitations and more thoughtfully managing my expectations, which has carried over as much into my kitchen as anywhere else in my life.

The peak heat of the day here usually falls shortly before dinner time. I don’t have any desire to turn the oven on, or to stand over a hot stove. My appetite is questionable at best by 5pm, and my people are hungry. None of us wants something heavy or hot to eat, but I know that if the meal I prep isn’t substantial enough, everyone will be asking for snacks long before bedtime.

I live with a trio of carnivores, but I could skip out on meat most days. Ground beef has been particularly off-putting for me this pregnancy, so even go to options like easy tacos or spaghetti are at the bottom of my list.

At this point in the summer, with the hot days unwavering and my culinary motivation waning to a terrible degree, I could use some fresh ideas. Jason and I will eat salads all day long (Jason if there’s significant protein in the mix), and Henry enjoys a decent repertoire of veggies, but our dairy free Eloise is not the biggest fan of anything green.

So. I need some help.

Do you have a favorite summer recipe that incorporates real, whole foods and requires less than an hour (or a 400º oven) to prepare? Do your kids absolutely love a summer meal that you’d be excited to pass on to me and my ever-hungry brood?

I’d love to add a handful of new recipes to our menu for the remaining weeks or months of summer, and I’m in need of a fresh dose of motivation. Ideas that incorporate helpers in the kitchen are very welcome–Eloise is often eager to play sous chef, and I love it when I have reasonable jobs for her to do at (almost) three years old.

And if you’re in the same boat as I am this summer, would you ask a friend and pass on any delightful tips they’re willing to share?

I want to love being in my kitchen again, and to arrive there before baby comes would be so great…for everyone who sits around our table in the evenings, really 😉

trying to avoid my own level of “hangry,”  but missing the mark,

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Please post or link your recipes/favorite foodie websites in the comments. Then we can all enjoy them together, and I can refer back to them with ease in the coming days. xo!

 

 

 

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never underestimate. (58)

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Someone was praying today. I felt it, steady and strong. There are days when life feels so out on a limb, and then there are days like this one, when instead, I have a continual sense of being surrounded.

Isn’t that something?

Last night I tried to ready my heart for the day ahead. I was cloudy and tired, and it felt like pushing up against an unmovable resistance. I knew that today would be a long day with Jason gone for work until after the kids were in bed. I also knew that we’d be without water usage from 8a-5p, making household chores and things we take for granted a bit more difficult.

I woke up this morning with the single motivation to have a shower before the water was out of commission. Eloise woke up with a pretty awful summer cold, and Henry woke up in a good mood. I suppose that made us 1.5 for 3, give or take. I suggested we get out the door early for bagels before dropping H off at camp for the morning, and we miraculously made it out the door by 8:30a.

I spilled water everywhere at the bagel shop, but the kids were happy, breakfast in hand. I indulged in a decaf latte. Henry went enthusiastically off to camp.

Eloise and I wandered a little further out of town to a vintage/antique/restored furniture shop in search of a dresser for baby. In spite of her clearly miserable nose and growing cough, she stayed in good spirits. She and her long, curly pigtails danced to music at the store and invited me to join in. Together, we measured dresser after dresser until we found a winner. Already painted in the perfect colors and boasting plenty of vintage charm, our newest addition to the nursery fit perfectly into the back of my car. Eloise was exemplary. We wandered about finding all of the farm animals on all of the items in every nook and cranny of the store, and it was delightful. I love my time with her.

I had high hopes of heading to our weekly park playdate after camp pick up, but by 11:30a, I was fairly done with the heat and Eloise was fading fast. The little whisper of, “It’s ok not to do it all” in the back of my mind in on the way home was enough for me to call a spade a spade. Not quite noon yet, it was pushing 85º. My dad, just back from a two week trip to Europe, was free to FaceTime, so instead of packing lunches quickly for the park, I slowed way down and found a place on the couch.

Today was exactly what it needed to be, and I never saw it coming.

Eloise snuggled. All day, with the exception of her nap time. The kids played. We visited with my dad and step mom for a long time and caught up on all that happens in two weeks between travel and kiddos and pregnancy and family life. We ate a late and leisurely lunch. Everyone rested.

Everyone.

Henry even admitted later that he “learned to like lounging while resting” today. The pace that the day set naturally was better than anything I could have contrived with all of my best laid plans and overzealous schemes.

We visited with Aunt Bridget and co. on FaceTime after naps. We ate sandwiches and hummus and veggies and the sweetest-ever plums in the living room for dinner, picnic style, per Eloise’s request. We read books and cleaned up spaces and worked through an entire box of kleenex with our sniffles and cuddled up together for stories before bed. And aside from the usual pre-bedtime antics, the littles settled into sleep without much resistance, which was heaven sent.

A 90º day without daddy or water–one that began with a cancelled playdate and more cancelled plans throughout the day, could have turned out much differently. I suppose I might have expected it to. But someone covered our day (and certainly my disposition) today in prayer, and God heard and answered.

I didn’t feel outside of myself like I’ve felt so readily in the heat of pregnancy and summer in recent days. I felt composed and level and far more like the mom and the me I want to be every day–the one that I fall short of more often than I want to admit.

There was peace and grace abundant for our little family today. In the most exasperating moments (sibling squabbles, crazy construction traffic and detours, heat, heat, and more heat, no flushing toilets…) I just felt settled.

The power of my belief in a sovereign God who hears our requests and answers them according to His will is overwhelming in the best way.

Really, there’s no reason why today was so composed and smooth, save that I believe someone (or multiple someones) lifted me up. We can never underestimate the power of our prayers and petitions to God, and we may never know just how they were answered in impacting ways for people we love and care about (or others we’ve never even met).

It’s humbling to serve a Creator who loves us enough to allow us a role in affecting change here on earth.

I am so thankful for today. For the unexpected delights, for time with my sweet girl, for Henry being Henry, and for time to connect with people I love. For living room picnics, nursery dressers, corporate rest time and twirling among antiques, today was unordinary out of ordinary. It was lemonade from lemons and unadulterated grace pouring out and over every crack and crevice and seam.

In the mess of the daily, I sometimes forget how powerful a God we serve. But He is Mighty, and He cares for us.

still twirling a little,

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empty tanks. (59)

It’s well over an hour past bedtime, and the host of shenanigans will not end upstairs tonight. Such is the case with summer daylight and sharing a bedroom, I suppose, but the string of nights where this has been the case feels unceasing. I’ve heard the toilet flush no less than four times in sixty minutes. The littlest has joined me once downstairs. The eldest has gotten dad’s attention outside several times from the upstairs window, and the banter about light sabering each other and who needs which stuffed animal just will. not. end.

I’d be writing about something else tonight entirely, but the running dialogue from daytime has carried itself far later into the evening than is desirable, and all I can hear is the back and forth of kiddos again and again in my ears.

This is the beautiful, trying, hopeful, crazy season of life we’re in.

I wonder frequently to myself about how the new baby will settle into the monkeyish madness of it all. I know third babies are often flexible, go with the flow type personalities who slot right into the current family dynamic, but I don’t want to make assumptions. The first six months with Eloise were some of the most challenging of my life, and for various reasons. Mostly, she and I didn’t sleep for more than a three hour stretch at night, and a good part of our days were spent trying to figure out how to help our little peanut, who was clearly uneasy with life and frequently in pain. She is an incredibly easy going personality now, but I still carry that experience with me. It was terribly hard.

So I think forward to less than two months from now and try to project all of the best possible outcomes while still bracing myself for what I know could also be very tough. I absolutely mean it when I say that I can’t wait to welcome this new babe into our family. I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m just having a hard time feeling like I enter into much of anything gracefully these days, and I don’t want that to be true of the days surrounding baby’s arrival.

My perfectionist tendencies pour out onto the table right about here.

The third trimester of pregnancy is such a dichotomy, isn’t it? You want to be doing ALL of the things, but circumstances kind of dictate that you actually slow down a bit. Only some of the tasks get done…on a good day. I feel like I need to find a way to settle into that reality peacefully, but in this pregnancy especially, it’s an effort for me to do so.

The other day I shared about getting to my emotional to do list before my physical one. Every bit of what I said is true. I am definitely prioritizing emotional things over physical ones these days, and that feels appropriate. But the nesting, particular, visionary mama in me wishes regularly that all of the lists were dwindling more than they actually are.

I guess you could say my flexibility is in training for the days to come when this baby is no longer tucked away, but out in the world and contributing to our family in whatever ways he or she brings life to the table. That’s probably a good thing.

The unrest upstairs tonight is reflective of my own unrest as I sort through the contents of another toasty summer day packed with plenty to do and more that will be left undone. If I’m recording these days with honesty, then the reality here is exactly this. We’re all tired. We’re all a bit frayed at the edges for various reasons. We’re all excited for baby to come, and probably all a tad emotionally charged because that day is on the horizon.

I need to be filling up my tank with grace each day so I can extend it out to the people I love the most. I haven’t cracked the code on this by any stretch, but I’m going to keep trying.

banking on the highlights of the day today, and looking forward to a fresh start in the morning,

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hello, august! (60)

When I woke up this morning, something magical happened. My answer to one of pregnancy’s most frequently asked questions became, “Next month!”

Now that’s a good feeling.

Today was a full one. Camp for Henry in the morning, grocery shopping with my favorite girl, camp pickup, grocery unloading and putting away (hey, I’m counting that as a big deal when it’s over 80º and I’m this pregnant, ok? 🙂 ), lunch time, play time, vacuuming, nap time (during which not a single soul was napping), prep for tonight’s maternity pictures (eek!), refereeing (because, no napping), more prep, dinner prep, a bit more photo prep, family/maternity/headshot photos, kiddos still up an hour past bedtime, chillin’ like a villain on the couch at these keys and contemplating some DF ice cream to put a cap on it all. Because in all honesty, I do not think I’ve stopped perspiring since about 9am, and ice cream feels like the right choice right about now. (Might still have to sneak cereal and blueberries somewhere in there, too. That’s just how baby and I roll.)

"Mom, can we look at the flowers today? Can I have all of these at my birthday party?" She makes me stop and smell the flowers in a good way all of the time--even when grocery shopping.

“Mom, can we look at the flowers today? Can I have all of these at my birthday party?” She makes me stop and smell the flowers in a good way all of the time–even when grocery shopping.

It occurred to me last night that our little bean will likely be up every night at 11:30p.m.(ish), ready and waiting for a feeding to replace all of this late night cereal consumption. Am I programming our baby in a dangerous way here? I might be.

Just means I’ll have a little pal to hang out with in my night owl state for a while. I’m good with that.

Have I mentioned we’re getting a new couch before then?! I couldn’t be more excited about this fact. Our current couch is fine and all, but I cannot comfortably sit and nurse a baby at all hours on this lovely piece of furniture anymore. I don’t know if it’s me or the furniture, but a new spot to perch from was something I petitioned for a few months back when I started thinking toward the late night feedings in my future. We’re looking forward to a little change-up on the furniture front to coincide with our paint swapping in the living room. Can’t wait to see it all come together!

August and September are decidedly “pull it all together” months around here this year. I’m so happy to have arrived at their beginning. I am not a wish-summer-away kind of girl by any stretch, but it does feel good to be rounding the corner on some bigger things that have been a long time coming, like a new couch, let’s say. Or fresh paint. Or maybe a brand new human. There it is. That’s the big one. “Next month.”

Such a good thing.

I could squeal with delight at the thought of holding this fresh new babe in my arms. It’s getting close enough that I can feel it now. It’s no longer far from reach. Amazing.

Tonight during pictures, our littlest love was hopping around in my belly, as if he or she knew they were the star of the show. Beautiful. Nothing could make me happier than our four, marveling together at the thought of our newest family member growing healthy and strong. May it be so!

I’m still somehow full of energy tonight–a surge that surprised me today in a timely way. I hope I can coast on this kind of wave for a bit longer now. I could get so much done! If not, I’ll take what I can get as it comes. With each wake up, we’re one day closer. August is already here somehow, and September isn’t trailing far behind…

celebrating the little things with a full heart,

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pocket change. (61)

Back in the day, when everyone carried cash and made change with each transaction, emptying your pockets into a jar at the end of the day was quite the lucrative operation. In months or a year, you might save up hundreds of dollars or more and never feel a thing. That is, until you picked up said jar or took it into the bank; suddenly the weight of collected change was apparent. You could feel the impact of that plinking change, a little bit at a time, amounting to something much greater.

There are days lately when I feel like I’m picking up our change jar time and again.

It can be exhilarating to weigh the coins you’ve collected–payoff for the diligence you’ve made to save and not spend, remembering to pour them out at the end of each day. Change of the other variety can be exhilarating, too, and it can undoubtedly add up to amazing payoffs.

It’s just that trading anything for something else is sacrificial in a way, and sometimes, that’s hard and heavy.

Lately, the list of things we’re trading here feels lengthy, and the payoffs aren’t so instant. Hopefully they’re long term instead.

Maybe I should be keeping a glass jar of change nearby as a visual for this season of our lives, remembering that the impact over time has potential to be really great. There’s a task for the rainy day to do list. 😉

I’m so able to appreciate change that’s visible in the moment, especially when much of my focus right now is on emotional space that isn’t quite as obvious to the naked eye. For the past few days, Jason has spent most of his “spare” time painting our living room. It’s been the same color since we moved in almost eight years ago, and while we liked the old color for a long time, the new color has us wondering why we didn’t decide on the project sooner.

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Fresh paint. Lighter, brighter, and opening up our space to new possibilities.

My appreciation for painting projects has grown over the years, particularly because you can see and feel the difference upon impact. The more time you put in, the more a space is transformed right before you. This is the kind of change that doesn’t collect in a jar, but more like the kind you find in your pocket and run quickly to spend at the candy store. It’s sweet, and instantly gratifying.

When you’re saving a lot of change in a big ‘ol jar for some time down the road, it feels good to mix in a few impromptu stops to spend your spare pennies on something sweet along the way.

Someday the baby that’s growing here in my belly as I type will (hopefully) look back on these days before his or her arrival and smile–so many of the unknown pieces at this moment having fleshed themselves out as good and growing parts of our family story. When I think about it like that, the days and months of collecting a figurative nickel here and an abstract dime there seem worthwhile.

All of this “pocket change” we’re storing up could amount to savings we can’t possibly see or imagine now, so we’ll keep putting change away with hopes for best possible outcomes and character building as we go. Meanwhile, I’m going to take the penny candy and fresh walls as bright spots in the process, appreciating the tangible evidence that sits before me as encouragement to take one day at a time, and counting on the fact that there will be beauty around each new unknown corner and turn.

collecting pennies,

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keepers. (62)

Friends see your messes and love you anyway. They look past your misgivings and remind you of who you really are, so that on the hard days, you can remember, too.

Long term friends do this especially well.

They’re the ones who have known you as your past self…immature, confused, still searching for a sense of who you really are and who you are called to become. They can appreciate just how far you’ve walked down bumpy or broken up roads, and they recall memories of just enough of those roads that, when brought to the surface, their memory grows your own appreciation of how far you’ve come.

Long standing friends understand your backstory without a need to dig deep into old junk and heartache.

They feel like home.

Growing up is a painful process sometimes. Even at thirty four, I’m still doing it…still working to become more of who I’m meant to be and less of the sinful self I actually am. I want to be more open, more gracious. Less particular, less intense. I want to be passionate about my first loves, but not over the top. I want to champion the people I love and not compete.

The best friendships reflect my strengths and my misgivings back to me, refining me and making me think more deeply all of the time. This is a crazy gift I can’t replace with anyone or anything else. I’d never want to.

In these later days of pregnancy, when my energy is wearing thin and my patience, even thinner, I am craving the presence of these dear-to-me friendships even more. I realize this every time I’m with them, even though I also walk away wincing at the moments when I got crabby or whiny, when I was short with my kids in front of them, or when I complained about any aspect of this pregnancy even though I really am unbelievably grateful to be right in this season, right where we are.

Thank goodness for grace.

Today we spent the afternoon with a group of people who have known our family a long, long time. These are lifelong friendships that grow and change as we do, and as our families do, too. At one point I looked out over a sea of “littles” who just aren’t all that little any more. The eldest turns nine in a few months.

Jedis. Buddies. Evidence of tried and true friendships and God's sweet grace.

Jedis. Buddies. Evidence of tried and true friendships and God’s sweet grace in our lives.

In this group, our family is bringing up the rear with baby number three (and any subsequent babies, should they be in our future), and it is both beautiful and strange to be the last one pregnant in this mix of amazing friends. The history that each one of our kiddos represents is significant and deep…major life changes surrounding each one of them, and then all of the chapters that have fallen in between.

And my, these kids are amazing. I look at each one of them and think just how fortunate we are that they are healthy, smart, funny, kind, resilient children who are each growing to love the Lord and who genuinely love each other, too. They’re all different in so many ways, and it’s so humbling to be among them.

Their interwoven lives are some of the sweetest fruit that comes from long term, deeply committed friendships like ours. I’m so thankful.

The baby bean is going to join a dynamic crew. He or she will be snuggled and cuddled and doted on and carried around as the baby of the bunch, but no less a part of the mix than the rest–only added to the number in the way that close friends embrace each others’ lives and families and celebrations and messes.

Only in the very best ways.

I need a lot of grace these days. I suppose I always do, but especially as baby grows and I feel clumsy and tired and more worn around the edges of myself than I’d like to be. Without friends like these, I’d be floundering, for sure. But it feels like we’re linking arms and weathering the hard with the good in all areas of our lives instead. What a gift as we each change and grow, and as our families do, too!

so humbled and grateful,

mm

by

the emotional to do list. (63)

Maybe it’s because we started out with most of the things we’d need to welcome a new baby this time, but as the weeks go by, I’m noticing that my to do list in prep for baby number three is far more emotion driven and way less about what needs to happen around the house. There’s a list for that, too, and I sure would love to check off some boxes between now and mid-September, but I’m finding myself way more vested in taking care of the things that might make baby’s arrival a more smooth transition for my heart than for our home.

This bleeds into my desire to make things as gentle as possible for Henry and Eloise as they transition in their roles, too.

While tubs of baby clothes are sitting in the attic, wall decor for the nursery is stacked in baby’s closet, and several larger pieces of furniture have yet to shuffle to new spaces as we make room, my mind is much quicker to jump to other things–things like making sure we capture maternity pictures, getting the kids squared away with school and schedules for the fall, and, before baby comes, finishing some writing projects that really matter to me.

I care about the aesthetics of things. I do. I just know that our living room wall color or the replacement dining room rug aren’t going to mean a thing to me if life feels like a complete mess inside my head and heart. So I’m trying to place the energy I do have on being healthy from the inside, out, and letting the chips fall where they may on some of the physical things that would actually be more fun to address in the short term.

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In the exercise of minimizing our clutter and clearing out some physical space this summer, I find myself really challenged to keep decluttering while we get closer to baby’s estimated due date. It’s easy to want to add things to the nursery or to make changes to rooms in the house “before it’s too late and we never get to them,” instead of staying committed to letting more things go. While it’s definitely realistic that some tasks will be held off a bit when focus shifts to a new baby, it’s not as though life doesn’t change again once they’re mobile and more independent. We can certainly get back to projects then, and it’s doubtful anyone else will even notice they were on hold.

Letting go is not my natural tendency. I have to work hard at it. I want things a certain way, and I have visions in mind. Toning down my Pinterest-loving self and just being content with good enough is a stretching exercise for me, so that’s on my emotional list right now as much as anything else.

I’m doing all kinds of evaluating in this space where we’re likely eight or nine weeks out from snuggling our little love. How do I want to spend time with Henry and Eloise between now and then? What matters most to me? What can I do now that I definitely can’t once baby gets here? What are the non-negotiables, and what can wait?

I keep thinking about all of the moms and dads who welcome preemies into the world. Not only do they jump from baby prep mode into parenting mode well in advance, but they suddenly have potential health concerns, hospital bills, work schedules and care for other children to pile on top of the things they hoped to accomplish before baby arrived. Focus shifts from aesthetics to life-impacting choices that we don’t mix into paint colors and stroller styles and coming home outfits when we’re looking down the line to a due date.

More than ever, I really want to maintain perspective as we prep, even while I’m enjoying thoughts of baby getting closer and embracing the joy that comes with little steps toward baby along the way.

I want to be healthy in spirit–almost as much as I want to have a healthy delivery and a perfectly healthy baby. I don’t want to lose sight of the relationships that matter most to me or the things I need to keep in place to stay well myself (prayer, rest, time with the people I love, boundaries, exercise, chances to keep writing, sunshine).

A beautifully appointed, inviting nursery–one that’s just waiting to welcome baby–is a lovely thing. I’d be delighted to have baby’s room looking as I envision it before he or she ever spends time there. But an emotionally stable, sane mama–one who has bandwidth for this new stage that’s coming, for our other littles in tow, and for the curveballs that life throws often–is what I desire more than the completion of any other task or home project.

Heart space first. Physical space after.

I have a feeling baby will be more keenly aware of (and certainly more impacted by) my ability to love well over my ability to decorate well, anyway.

I’m so grateful for this third journey through pregnancy that’s allowing me to see even more of what really matters, and so thankful for the first two that have taught me well along the way. I’m always growing into this ever-changing role of motherhood, good days and bad days and every other kind of day in between.

keeping lists of all kinds while trying to keep myself in check,

mm