Just Breathe Mama

Hmm. I haven’t been here for a while. In some ways I am a little sad because I did such an over the top job chronicling and expressing how I felt when I was on my pregnancy journey with the triplets, and this time I am slacking. (Heads up: This is long and you will find mistakes in my writing.)

The road to get pregnant last time was such a private thing gone public, that I think maybe that was the intension for the whole adventure. I was so peaceful in an outward way, finally learning to trust others to help me and guide me. I was at the mercy of doctors and nurses from day one of that pregnancy…waiting on calls to see if my follicles were mature enough to conceive until the end when I was told how and when I would deliver.

I have spent many hours and days and nights trying to sort all of this out. I had come to the conclusion that I needed healing from all of this. All of the pain that came with the desire for a baby and all the heaviness of what felt like an unrequited love from a child we didn’t know if we would ever meet. Furthermore, as successful and healthy as the pregnancy and delivery were – they were so off from anything I would have chosen for myself. Sitting in bed, eating fries because it’s the only thing I could get down, gaining 70 lbs, not having one thing prepared for a nursery and then giving myself over to the demands of the doctor’s timing when it came to delivery still all seem foreign.

Walking to deliver THREE babies…like a different person standing there.

So, in some ways, yes – I may need some healing from that time in my life. However, over the last almost three years, I have realized it was just what I needed – at the time. It was healing in itself, not traumatic and cruel and too challenging for the wonderful and fearfully made woman God had made me to be, for just that exact season.

I didn’t feel wonderful and fearfully made at the time.

But that is part of the lesson.

Most things in your past aren’t just in your past. They are wonderfully and fearfully part of who you are today…NOW. In this season and moment – very real and very wonderful.

I have been beating myself up a bit for not finding the time to journal/blog about this pregnancy and season of motherhood. I had envisioned surviving this 40 weeks of growing a human inside, while chasing and developing and loving three little humans on the outside, by writing and recording it all through words and pictures and funny anecdotes and sappy reflection. And let me tell you, there has been a lot of funny – and some not so funny – anecdotes and a million sappy reflections – but for some reason, I have just chosen – maybe even without knowing it – to just keep them in.

Sure, part of me is tired and that could be why I haven’t been writing. We have had our house on the market three months, I am getting bigger everyday, the kids are fast and needy and never seem tired or are overly tired all the time and we are on the brink of potty-training, which is actually them wanting to be on the potty all the time and me trying to distract them from it because I’m not ready and then there is the just trying to keep up with life as a wife and mother and all those other roles you hold so dear.

So yes, I am tired – but more than that, this time my personal matter that just isn’t as public (because let’s face it, it’s just not as interesting to get pregnant without trouble and then to be carrying only one…) feels really nice being personal. Not that I don’t love talking about this baby or that I won’t tell you anything you want to know, like my peeing issues or the stretch marks that so magically have appeared or my supernatural ability to pit out every shirt I wear.

It has just felt right to be right where I am – learning about myself, my body and the inner confidence and strength that God has blessed me with. Part of it is letting go of what others may think or say or contribute to an experience. I don’t want to say I don’t need loved ones or want the connection I had to others on my blog last time, but I do want to say I have been led, for probably the first time in 32 years, to have a really internal and sacred experience with life, my spirit and the spirit of life inside.

Talk about Namaste. The light inside me honors the light inside you, inside me. 

Again, this is not my renouncement from friendships, family and all things outward, because more than ever, I need people and am OK with wanting people. It’s just a shift I have experienced and it is one that has involved faith not sight, choosing peace not anxiety and accepting instead of seeking confirmation. I have learned my personality seeks advice and affirmation, whether it is un-solicited or sought after, and I have further learned this does not always serve me. Looking back the times that felt so scary and wrong were times that I was like a ping pong ball floating around the game, just waiting for a new person or idea or solution to bump me to the next place. This season, this pregnancy, our family and every little detail of the present has taught me to follow my gut and listen to that still voice inside. It leads me down the rabbit hole in a good way. Although it can be scary to follow faith instead of physical example or knowledge, it is also empowering and peaceful. Feeling safe that wherever you go, there you are. (Jon Kabat-Zinn)

It is trusting that little light inside … and letting it shine – without needing affirmation or redirection from anyone else. It is the continuation of letting go. And somewhere in there you have to believe you are then, letting God.

With that said, I’m ready to share a little bit about what has been brewing in my mind and heart. First of all, I had chosen not to tell many people this huge part of the story, but I feel compelled to share, since it is indeed, part of the story. At eight weeks Scott and I went in for our typical, exciting yet scary, “this is how the normal people feel in a pregnancy” ultrasound. I knew their would be a heartbeat because of my nausea. The worst thing on my mind was whether or not we should leave the next day for Punta Cana while I was eight weeks pregnant and so sick and unsure of getting to that 12 week finish line of worry and doubt. I laid down, heart beating fast, because let’s face it – no matter what, that first ultrasound is like a weird cosmic blind date … does this person really exist? Will they show up or has it been a figment of my imagination? What exactly is in there??!!

The familiar probe from last pregnancy was shoved in and my sweaty palm joined Scott’s. I am sure we were giggling and Scott was doing what he has done in every ultrasound … asking “just give us the hearbeat!?” I look up and I see black blobs. I maybe started to sweat more. I thought to myself, nothing is moving. Wait, everything is OK, isn’t it?

There was a bit of silence. Deafening silence that at the time felt new, but looking back, we had that same human nature pause of silence when we had our first ultrasound with the triplets. That time where humans are expecting something normal and something else happens and those humans, especially the one that is disclosing the information, is truly speechless and a little awkward.

Scott said it again, “Can you just show us the heartbeat?” And I said (and I know this is exactly what I said…partly to calm Scott, but mostly to distract myself from feeling. I always talk when I’m nervous or don’t want to feel real emotion), “You see a heartbeat, right? Are you just looking for it? Is it too early to see a heartbeat?”

Here’s where that weird silence hanging in the air crashes. The tech says,

“Do you mean the twins’ heartbeats?”

What. What? What.

When I wrote my story of Shock I wasn’t ready to tell the true story. Yes we were kind of shocked to be pregnant all on our own…the first month we sort of tried. But to see twins…after no medical intervention and absolutely no gut feeling was S.H.O.C.K.

That morning the two lines appeared I vividly remember Scott and I saying, “There is NO WAY there is more than one!” And then. There was. I was on my knees and felt like there wasn’t a plan after all. It must be all by chance. This isn’t right. It’s a mistake.

I cried. I cried I think harder than I ever have publicly in my whole life. I couldn’t look at the screen. The joy I had expected had been robbed by pure and utter disappointment and fear. Anger surfaced. Faith walked out the door. I wanted to quit letting go and quickly take control. I was scared we had a made a mistake. I was mad at myself for not seeing it as a blessing. I was questioning God and telling him he picked the wrong girl. I even prayed he would take it away.

I just couldn’t do this. 

Needless to say, we flew to Punta Cana the next day. I needed out. I ate saltine crackers, cried a lot and tried to figure out what van we would have to drive as a family. I watched families of four meander calmly around the resort, feeling the threat of our prison sentence of never being able to travel again. If you have ever seen Ferris Bueller and remember the scene where Cameron sits frozen and paralyzed at the pool after his dad’s car is ruined…that was pretty much me. Poor Scott…here we are to celebrate five years of marriage in paradise and all I want to do is lay around inside with the blinds closed, watching Downton Abbey seasons on our laptop.

Punta Cana. Blur.

Two weeks later, at our ten week ultrasound, we saw one gummy bear moving on the screen.

One.

And not to over refer to movies, but like Forest Gump says “That’s all I have to say about that.”

The details certainly happened and there were certainly honest and raw feelings that happened during that first trimester, the kind that go with shock and sadness and joy and loss, but all that matters is that God screamed to me in all of this – “Trust Me. Trust You. We will be just fine.” Looking back, I don’t know what I was so afraid of. Or mad about. I don’t know. Hmm.

—

Fast forward to 31 weeks. Journey isn’t even the right word.

I have felt so full and blessed and yet so exhausted and tapped out that there has been not a single day that I haven’t felt alive. One of my favorite things about pregnancy is the level it places you on. I don’t know if it’s because you have life inside of you or that you are so aware of taking care of yourself that you allow yourself grace – but for me, I feel like life is in living color during this time. All the emotions and states I am in are BIG. They aren’t just in passing…it’s like I’m looking every emotion and thought process in the face.

If I’m happy, I’m really happy and probably tearing up. I have had countless moments where I will catch a smile or little new word from one of the babes and I will just stare at them like I was meeting them for the first time. Or I will watch them play and pretend together, laughing or holding hands – and time literally stands still while I thank God and every lucky star that we are adding one more of them to this picture that I feel like I am watching on a big screen.

24 weeks

When I’m sad, I’m really sad. I feel scared and frozen and probably am tearing up, again. I wonder how I will find room in my heart for another baby and how my tired body will do it. I question the importance of laundry and cooking and keeping house and want to crawl in a hole and never come out.

When I’m energetic I feel like taking on the world and feel like the bump on my belly is like a shield and a beautiful addition to my physical self – so proud of every curve and change my body has experienced. I can turn the corner from seeing a double chin, wide white hips and really weird mom arms in the mirror and see the amazingly round and perfectly placed bump. I can eat healthy and give into cravings, trusting my body’s instinct to know what I need. I pray to God this pregnancy ends slowly.

When I’m tired, I am sooo tired. My whole body feels heavy and swollen and red and bumpy and hungry and bloated. Constipated (see, not afraid to share the details) and up at 4 am and then dead at 4 pm. Fat. Double chin. Arms waving at me. I see all those in the mirror and that mound in the middle with growing stretch marks is an afterthought. And then, in my bloat, I eat to feel better. And then I feel worse. And my chest burns. And I think Thank God this is my last pregnancy.

When I think about birth I get wild. I, again, tear up. I get adrenaline. I get terrified. In pre-natal yoga I look around and am in awe of this whole thing. When I am awake at 4 am with round ligament pain, I go back in my shell, deciding the baby should just never come out. It’s up and down and it’s real and raw and sometimes I love it and want to savor it for all times, and sometimes I just want sushi and a glass of red wine.

There isn’t a day that I don’t show up, learn and grow a little bit more into the person that I know I was created and woven together to be. Each day I pray to get out of the way of myself and be the mother that lets them, all four of them, be the light and the person that I had nothing to do with during the creating and forming process. That person, that light, is so much bigger than counting, the ABC’s or behaving well. It takes people life times to wake up to their true selves, I pray I get them on the right path.

And that’s when I remember I can do it. I can climb every mountain – step by step – because through this exposure to the creation of life, I am reminded, with 100% confidence the maker made me to do this. And although I questioned the idea of “meant to be” versus “chance and mistakes” in that ultrasound room at 8 weeks, I know deep down inside – if I let that little light shine – I could and can do it. I can. The mountain can be moved. If only I allow it. That is the hard part.

Which leads me to finally opening up about the “logistics,” if you will, of this pregnancy and birthing of our sweet baby. I recently read a birthing affirmation that said, “My heart knows everything it needs to know to bring this child into the world and my mind is learning.” So powerful - my heart knows and my mind is learning. Isn’t this every single day of mothering? Every single day of living?

This explains right where my heart and mind are with how I have chosen to live out the rest of this pregnancy and the vision for the birth, and in turn, how my soul and mind are being transformed in general.

The pregnancy part of this transformation is easier. I am so dedicated and committed to living in the moment, knowing this is a fast fleeting flicker of time. I’ve been here before. I know how quickly beautiful life escapes you, going from a romance to a responsibility with that first breath of life. I get scared I will miss this and feel empty, and then I get real and realize I have a gift now to be aware of every emotion, feeling and tiny movement – that I get to keep with me forever. If a book is a gift you get to keep opening, pregnancy and motherhood is a gift that never closes.

I work to choose everyday to live in the realm of mystery and wonder…just content knowing that all is as it should be. It is the greatest opportunity to learn about the things you don’t understand…everyday when I feel movement and flips, I think “God, you are real. I don’t get this but IT is real. Life must be real. I must believe…even when I don’t understand.” It feels like a baby dinosaur in there, poking at it’s shell to burst out … but the truth is, there is a spirit, a mind and a body that flow together effortlessly…with my help, but really not with my help at all. A life that will be born into this world with innocence, warmth and some desperation that is endearing.

A beautiful first breath …

Now the transformation that lives on after pregnancy…into those long days and months of reality…that may be the hard part.

And the baby’s crib arrives…its real.

The babies are TWO.

My sweet little babies that once laid perfectly still … all three fitting on one swaddle blanket. Grunting and making fists and fighting against new eyes to see a tired world that was new and bright and so very loud and brilliant to them.

Now, the same swaddle blankets get carried to and fro on the same carpet they used to lay sweet and simple on. Those blankets are lovingly called “blanshies” by the teeth and lips of a lispy toddler. The same arms that used to so obediently wrap under those “monkey blankets”, as we used to call them, now reach for counters, open doors, put on their own boots, dump cups of water to wash their own hair, sometimes swat at a sibling and within the same breath reach for mama and say “hand.”

I guess those swaddle blankets are conditioned perfectly with love, season and trials for our new baby.

When we were given those perfectly rolled Aden & Anais blankets the first time around … I remember holding them close after being washed in Dreft and just thinking about how good they felt to me.

For me. Not really three babies that I hadn’t even met yet.

The first pregnancy was like a tiara for me. It was all about how special it was to carry life. The honor and miracle that was blessed upon my body and our marriage. It made me proud and slow and happy and nervous. Scott and I would talk about the future like two blind men that hoped they would one day see. We couldn’t feel, taste or touch any of it…

It was all about my vision as a mama. His hopes as a papa. How they would fit in our life.

As I sit here, 22 weeks pregnant with our fourth child – I am full of every emotion under the rainbow. Full of gratitude for God’s grace on our family. Exhausted from telling the same three kids to not do the same million things every day. Bored with laundry. Tempted and joyful to pick out new baby bedding (and relish in the fact I only have to BUY ONE!) Guilty the dishes sit. Happy we have food to eat. Sad from watching a commercial. Happy from watching a commercial. Afraid. Excited. And thinking about life in the present and life in the near present…

I realize, this time around… as I sit on the couch with my mid-afternoon snack dreaming in mind…(I mean, aren’t snacks one of the perks of carrying life??) this pregnancy… I have so much more than an empty, un-swaddled swaddle blanket to embrace.

I have a complete vision of what is at the end of the rainbow. Love. Long nights. Joy. Frustration. Poop. Vomit. Giggles from a chubby belly. Awkward first smiles. Wobbly sit ups. Ambitions of a new life. The secrets of a human spirit unfolding right in the privacy of your own messy, chaotic but wonderfully woven together home. The pit of my heart feels confident this time. Nervous, yes. But confident – even more.

I know so much will be different. And probably some the same. But one thing is different for sure, already: This pregnancy isn’t all about me. Or Scott. Or our plans for the future. I get it. This baby is for US. Our family. Those babies – the ones that call themselves “Ninny” (Quinn AKA Quinny now comes out Ninny) , “Arper” and “Geeshie”.

This baby is for them. This baby is already swaddled in love…because since they are TWO…love comes easy to them.

(Do a million other things like leaving the refrigerator door shut or not climbing on top of their play kitchen come easy? No. But the loving sure does.)

And for that…Baby H. – you are coming into this world with (hopefully) freshly washed but very lovingly used swaddle blankets. I hope you like them.

PS, Baby H. is simply Baby Hackman (no cool “H” name in the works). We got to see Baby #4 a couple of weeks ago at our 20 week ultrasound. All looked great and we were full of joy to see our little babe move and wave and look all cute on the big screen. Such a luxury this time as we don’t have a million ultrasounds like we did with the trio. And as for the gender…your guess is as good as mine … we decided to give our unborn child complete privacy and chose to “look away” during the genital screening. Come on, it’s only decent.

I don’t know what it means to be a writer. A blogger. I guess a writ-ger.

I don’t know what it means to be a mother most days.

I am not even sure, after five short but full of life, years of marriage what it means to be a wife.

And I am totally not sure what it means to be a peaceful, always faithful, spiritual follower of God – turning to my confident prayer at all twists and turns and moments of glory.

—

I just don’t. That is partly why I haven’t been showing up to this space. Although I know part of my creation includes putting twisted thoughts into even more twisted words so I can understand the divine swirling around me, and in turn, hopefully help others, I just haven’t been able to do it.

The events of Friday December 14th, 2012 in Newtown, Connecticut have shaken all of us. So much that I didn’t want to write about it because I felt like there are no words. Let me say that again, – I STILL feel like there are no words. So this post is not really a response to what has happened – you, as the reader, and I, as the writer, don’t need a blog post to digest something like this. We feel this one with our guts. We know when we hold those sweet babies close to our chest and brush their hair all we want to do is keep them inside, willing them not only to the safe walls of our home, but to the safe walls of the world. We know when those innocent school pictures flash up on Facebook it is disgusting to even go there in your mind. Wrong. It feels like the world has lost a piece of what makes it worthwhile and good. The mission trips of 2012, the births, the marriages, the diseases cured miraculously, all sit in the shadows, discounted like they aren’t real enough to wash away all the black.

Here is where my response comes. How do we define ourselves and keep on keeping on, even if everything feels un-defined…and scary and shaken and full of doubt?

This is all I know:

I know that when it’s time to write, I write.

I know that holding my puking child against my chest all night is being a mother. I know cheering on every piece of their being, even when it feels like a chaotic circus around me, is being a mother. I know celebrating the dance of kicks and pure life inside, instead of worrying about the delivery or if she/he has two heads, is being a mother.

I know saying those simple words like “I’m sorry” and “I love you” means being a wife.

And with the help of an author that has helped me many times, I sort of know what it means to pray. I have wrestled with this one over and over and over again…ESPECIALLY after this month’s tragedy. I felt like my prayers just weren’t enough to help. Or enough to even mean anything.

I read this last night and just had to share. It felt like a God moment as I read the words. The twisted thoughts and words spoke to my mother/wife heart … and suddenly all the confusion and doubt in my heart and the surrounding world didn’t seem so confusing. Or dark.

From Philip Yancey’s “Prayer”:

I am privileged to be associated with a group in England called St. Colomba’s Fellowship. Its members consist of hospice staff, nurses and other workers who work among the dying. My wife and I are sometimes invited to speak at the fellowship’s conference. 

At one of the conferences, we heard a hospice chaplain tell of a patient who asked to see him because he was in great emotional distress. He was in the last stages of cancer and was feeling very guilty because he had spent the previous night ranting, raving and swearing at God. The following morning he felt dreadful. He imagined that his chance of eternal life had now been lost forever, and that God would never forgive one who had so cursed and abused him. 

The chaplain asked the patient, “What do you think is the opposite of love?” 

The man replied “Hate.”

Very wisely, the chaplain replied, “No, the opposite of love is indifference. You have not been indifferent to God, or you would never have spent the night talking to him, honestly telling him what was in your heart and mind. Do you know the Christian word that describes what you have been doing? 

The word is ‘prayer.’ You have spent the night praying.” – Roy Lawrence

—

On this magical Christmas Eve, as we practice love and light and all that is shiny…don’t worry if it feels like there is less than love, light and shine in your heart. You are a mother. You are a wife. You are praying. Just by doing it. Just by jumping out of the ring of indifference. You are love.

Merry Christmas to you. May our real and non-indifferent prayers be with every person touched by the hate crime of December 14th, 2012. Many bells will ring this Christmas as the little angels get their wings.

First of all … Hi to all my new lovely friends that I am lucky to have thanks to the gals at The HuffingtonPost.com for sharing our story this week in the “Parents” section. I feel hugs from all over when I read your words of support and want to call you and be friends with you when I read your emails in response to that “miracle baby that just showed up” … kind of like Baby Jesus, right?

If you are new here, here is a little bit about me. I would love for you to comment so I can know you too!

This is our family as of … hmmm, yesterday around 4 PM. Yep, it was family picture time around here this week. As any mother knows, this is up there with getting ready for a vacation or Christmas morning. I can breathe a little easier this morning now that they are complete. (And thanking God for Photoshop – what you don’t see in this picture is the black eye and huge dent Gracie has under her right eye. Or the chip out of Quinn’s chin because I accidentally didn’t realize he was rolling out of bed from under my arms. Oops.)

Seriously, though, I am humbled and grateful to share our journey (ongoing) of hope and faith and love. We try to learn everyday that all three work together, like people simultaneously rowing a boat over tiny waves in the water … but as you know, the waves aren’t always tiny. The hope becomes small and hides behind monotony. The faith has holes poked in it by the fear that is born in a mother the day you find out you are expecting the arrival of another human being(s). The love becomes weak because you gave all you had to the disciplining, washing, cooking, chasing, crying and keep up-ing of the day.

Thankfully – the boat keeps floating because we are told the greatest of these is love…and sometimes all you have to do to love someone is show up. And some (most) days, that is all I can do for our children … the three out of utero and the one in utero.

Showing up and praying the love shows up with me. Savoring the days where hope is alive with giggles and hugs and scrunched up nose smiles. Clinging to the faith that right now, all is where it should be – even the dust on the coffee table. The idea of just sitting where we are, not trying to move to the next spot in the game of life – even when passing go and collecting your money sounds really good from where we are sitting.

Faith, Hope and Love.

—

We are 17 weeks along with baby #4 and it couldn’t be more different from our last pregnancy…but in the same breath, it’s all the same.

A little comparison of the “mule” as Scott calls me…carrying the three babes versus one babe.

14 weeks with the crew (notice my face is not in the picture because I still felt like puking every second in-between my burger and fries at this point)

14 weeks with one bambino. So THIS is what the 2nd trimester buzz is all about…

I pray that you, no matter who you are, can be at peace with the love you give by just showing up. If you ever need to feel better about the showing up you are doing, contact me and I will give you a sample of some of our days. You will probably feel really good after that.

Hope.Faith.Love to you and your family & your little row boat – thanks for hanging around & sharing your life with me if you’ve been here awhile. And welcome to my new friends – isn’t the internet a cool little serendipitous place sometimes?

People constantly ask us, “Were you SHOCKED when you found out you were having triplets?” This simple question usually insinuates the following:

Were you so infertile that you had to do that IN Veet-Rooo* thing and ended up with three at a time…OR less interestingly, does it really run in your family?

*Just one of the embarrassing attempts at publicly discussing a very private, medical matter – pronounced In Vitro Fertilization. At least know what you are saying before mumbling it into the distance and making up your own weird, botched version of it all…really just wanting to know something that isn’t any of your business anyway*

Every time someone asks us the “were you shocked” question,  I always consider my answer with deep thought and say, “No.” It is the truth. I wasn’t that surprised. To answer everyone’s burning question, NO we did not do In Vitro. YES we (I) were infertile. NO we didn’t put three eggs in. (Nor would we wish one away had we put three eggs in. A guy actually said to Scott once, “I bet you wish you had only put 2 in now!” Ha ha…douche bag). Yes, multiples run in our family … however, we aren’t shy to say we did injections into my belly for five days, followed by big horse pills up my vagina and a shot to make me ovulate…and that’s how we “GOT” three.

The day we had our 1st ultrasound for the triplets was one of the best days of my life. I was NOT surprised. The correct description would be happy. Elated. Thankful. Full of joy. Grateful God chose us to be parents, finally. Grateful the little television screen showed life. Excited for the journey ahead.

And that is honestly how I felt. Scott pretty much felt the same. Shock never entered our system. We had been trying/praying/pleading to have a baby for TWO YEARS, so this moment felt like it was heaven-sent – no matter what road we had to take to get there. It felt

RIGHT. 

If you want to know shock, I will tell you shock. Here goes.

It was a hot, sunny day in July. It was one of those days I felt like all the i’s were dotted and the t’s were crossed in our family. See, they never are, but every once in a while we are blessed with a day that feels like we have it all together. For example, I remember that my hair was actually blown dry and straight and looking decent. The kids were clean and dressed really cute. (I remember all of this because we ran into Scott’s x-girlfriend…and I remember thinking, “Oh, thank you God we don’t look anything remotely like we usually do.”) So on this particular HOT day … we decided to go shopping at the big BOGO sale at Stride Rite at the mall. New fall shoes – nothing takes you back to childhood like new leather for the rolling months of September and October. We forgot the strollers so we actually walked our then 18ish month trio into the SHOE STORE (yikes, they probably have our picture up not welcoming us back) and bought shoes. And somehow all made it back to the van as a family – hot, sweaty, frustrated and hungry – but still happy. It was just one of those mysteriously, joyful and connected family days where you look around and feel like the luckiest girl in the world. They come less the more “toddler” they get, so you learn to savor these moments like a hot fudge sundae with nuts and whipped cream.

As we drove home, I remember sitting in a traffic jam with Elmo on and all the windows down. We had just kung-fu’d our way through a mall trip and I thought this is the perfect time to say it. So I said it.

“Would you legitimately like to try for another baby?”

I don’t really remember Scott’s exact words – but I remember his smile. The smile didn’t say no.

That’s all I remember. So, we gave ourselves six months. If it happened on our own without much anxiety or effort, we would rejoice and accept the challenge/gift/crazy decision. If it didn’t happen in six months, case closed. Beautiful family of five it is.

To us it seemed a win-win…but the control freak in me had been stirring leading up to this family decision. In my mind I thought…you know, it’s probably just the five of us, and that’s OK, BUT…

And I guess that is where the journey began. The journey of letting go and letting God.

—

I have always known I wanted another baby, I just felt like the table/van/house was missing someone. Sort of like when your husband is gone when you are sleeping in bed. You may be asleep, but you know he is missing. Or on Thanksgiving when you are SO full you may explode…but you couldn’t LIVE without a piece of pie.

I just knew.

Entering this stage of admitting we wanted another life in our lives opened up a can of worm-worries for me. I was paralyzed and nervous (and rightfully so) that we couldn’t get pregnant without fertility medicine. I was terrified if we did, we would suffer loss. I was mostly afraid I would be back to that dark place of “want” again. I was scared it was the wrong decision. I was afraid we would be judged for having another child when we had three very young and very healthy babies. I was confused at the seed of desire because I can barely handle the three I have.

And then I got over it. Well, not all alone. After a lot of counseling, praying and turning every last ugly piece of anxiety and fear over to something bigger than me, I was OK. I really was OK. I wasn’t afraid of every last “what if” I could come up with. I came to a shining place called

FAITH.

I felt a true answer to prayer. It’s called peace about a decision. This is HUGE for a girl who can’t even decide what type of sandwich to order for lunch.

Over the summer my counselor assisted me in the true art of “letting go and letting God.” This may get to be a little spiritually heavy for some of you, but it is part of my story and it is part of my truth. The truth is that when you are a control freak, you are for life. You don’t wake up one day in an Eric Carle book, transformed from the big fat control caterpillar into a beautiful, colorful and calm butterfly. However, you can learn to let go. When you learn to say  to yourself, “It’s OK, no matter what, I’m OK and IT’S OK and someone, something IS bigger than me and IS in charge”, that’s when life happens.

Now what I’m about to say is not a direct outcome of anything I did or didn’t do. (Well not exactly I guess…) It is something I recognize and accept as a pure gift that was meant to be. Something that feels so precious that it may just slip out of our hands because it arrived to us SO differently this time.

2 pink lines.

In our bathroom at 6 am.

One sleepy husband telling me the 2nd line “was too faint to be true.” But I knew. I just knew.

To a girl that waited 2 years…got a million ONE PINK lines…stabbed herself with injections…peed on ovulation sticks…timed intercouse (ack) and timed EVERYTHING…and was sad and in a place of want for a long time…this serendipitous moment …                                        

Now that is shock. 

Under God’s grace we are having baby #4. And I know three babies that will be the best big siblings on the block. We are due around Mother’s Day 2013. You may find some irony with that here. 

—

Of course every great story has a sequel…when I have a break from napping, crying or eating nachos, I will tell the rest of what real shock can teach you about life. Oh PS, this is the real reason I’m so tired. You didn’t think three toddlers got me down THAT much, did you?

So it’s been awhile. I somehow turned into one of those bloggers that goes missing for weeks on end. Thankfully, I am not missing – just barely swimming. Instead of regular blog posts, I have been trying to keep mouths fed, faces somewhat free of snot and walls and cribs clean from the poop painting that has been going on during naps. Oh, and saying “no” a lot. I can only dream of getting through all the laundry and actually using that pound of meat I bought to make something tasty and homemade with.

I love this blog. I love you, the people I get to connect to through this blog. The dilemma is, loving my three little people and my husband and this blog can get crowded.

This isn’t my resignation letter, this is simply my “hello, I’m still here” but I can barely keep up with myself and family, so you may see less of me until I can get up for air. Katrina’s post the other week on how physical the toddler stage is … it’s true. All true. I’m so blessed, yet so tired. Just tired. Do you have (almost) 2 year olds? Have you had them? Well, you know then.

Let me just say – no one can prepare you for this age…not to mention three of them. No one. So for now, instead of writing about our days – I’m just trying to live the day. I’m sure you understand. The independence, curiosity, defiance, memory, preference and opinions are all something we pray for in our children. Now I am praying on how to handle these things from minute to minute (you can guess those characteristics don’t form in parallel with three small people. This can result in other choice words in describing the state of the mother witnessing all of these current developments).

I am just trying to be a mama. And I’m just trying to breathe. I hope you are too. all

One of my favorite verses that seems to pop up with these babes : (I had this verse, along with a seed, taped to my breast pump when they were newborns – now I should tattoo it to my face- ha!)

Let us not become weary in doing good, for the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up - Galatians 6:9

Toddlers sure can make you weary…but the good news is, if we keep on loving them, they will turn out good…just the way they arrived to us.

Love to you.

PS, I am so sad for everyone on the east coast experiencing damage and fear from the hurricane. My sincere prayers and thoughts go out to you if you are living through the nightmare. I have special prayers for mommies and daddies just trying to protect their young – I pray you find special powers and sweet angels to help you. Please comment if you have suggestions on how/where to donate or help other than the RedCross. Thank you!

I’ve sort of got a girl crush on this amazing writer/mom/cool person I met on this funny thing called Facebook. Seriously, we met over the comments section on one of my favorite blog’s Facebook page (she was meeting THE Anne Lamott, so I creeped in and started talking to her.) What’s really weird is that we used to live 10 minutes apart, know some of the same people, both have a lot of kids and each seem to try to be a sane, spiritual being in this same big world – so the world got small and we got kindred.

I am pretty picky about who gets my “tears” on the internet and it takes a lot to get into my crazy head. Somehow, Katrina always does it. Maybe it’s because she has four kids and she’s been to mental and back again or maybe it’s because she’s funny or it could be that she is just an amazing writer. You can judge yourself, I am sharing my FAVORITE Katrina essay for our nourishment guest post today.

If you like the popular blog “Momastery”, you should add Katrina’s blog to your blog roll. I think you will enjoy. You can check her blog out here : Katrina Anne Willis. If you want to read a sample of her “big time writing” –  you can read and review “Baby Steps” here. (Bring your tissues, moms)

Ok, enough of my words. I hope you get the beautiful, ugly cry I got reading this. Be nourished! PS, after  you read this essay, go read this one, my 2nd to favorite. 

—

Toddlers and Teens and In Betweens

Last August at the Blogher’12 Conference, I had the privilege of a chance meeting with a girl after my own nutritional heart – Simona Hadjigeorgalis from Fuel The Body Well.Com. I met her briefly but feel like I know her well from following her awesome blog and watching her personal videos on nutrition and health.

Simona was nice enough to put together a video JUST FOR US!

In today’s Tuesday Taste, Simona shares with us 5 quick-tips for nourishing our bodies.  She made this video especially for “Just Breathe Mama” readers, knowing that we mama’s need reminders on prioritizing our own wellness!!

Enjoy this video and check out Simona’s full bio and info below her video…and then go check out her blog fuelthebodywell.com for more simple and practical advice on health and nutrition!

Simona is the co-creator of a family of wellness websites developed to empower people to connect to the wisdom of their human vehicles. She is also the owner of SiVantage Marketing.

While her kids are at school, if she is not consulting for fortune 500 companies or doing P90X2, Simona is either writing for FueltheBodyWell.com and TrainingforLabor.com or she is mentoring wellness-minded and aspiring Momtrepreneurs on their paths to financial freedom.

You can find Simona on Facebook, YouTube , and Pinterest and occasional visit to Twitter.

If you haven’t noticed, I am a big believer in nourishing your body AND soul…especially as a mother. The minute we find out we are pregnant we start to sacrifice the priority of our mental and physical health for the priority of ANOTHER body and mind… and  from there, it never ends. The time we take to spiritually reflect or treat our physical body well starts to dwindle, although this is the time we need that spirit and body the most.

I have two guest bloggers this week for you to enjoy. They are both “experts” in their field of nourishment … one for the physical body and the other for the spiritual soul. Come back prepared to listen, learn and do something for yourself this week. I promise you will enjoy them both!

“Tuesday Taste” : “Fueling the Body Well” with Simona

“Thursday Nourishment” : “Toddlers and Teens and In Betweens” with Katrina

As we enter this beautiful fall week, let us be nourished together – the best way!

Who doesn’t love all things fall – including a visit to childhood every October when Halloween rolls around? The smell of Snickers, Twix, Starburst and Milky Way mingling in a trick or treat bag is like heaven. A close second to the naughty candy made calorie-less one day a year, is the spooky fun you can have getting lost in a haunted house.

Of course, our kids are a little on the young side…but since Haunted House at The Indianapolis Children’s Museum offers “non-scary” hours with the lights on, we went ahead and checked out the”Wicked Workshop” last week. (It opened this weekend AND it’s the 49th annual event!)

Although a little young for the witches and really spooky stuff, they still had fun touching the rats and animals down low, watching the lights, dancing to a little “Thriller” and running through the big fuzzy pumpkin. There was so much detail and activity, you could get away with taking toddlers to teenagers, and all have a great time.  They REALLY liked the ‘trick or treat” at the end and there was even a concession stand with various fall treats.

Tip: Marsh has discounted tickets if you aren’t a member! Here is more information on scary/non scary hours and ticket prices ! INFO!

Enjoy a little snapshot of our 1st haunted house!