in two years

by humanmama on December 14, 2014

The past few weeks we have been living in a whirlwind of doing and finishing and wrapping up (and, since it’s Christmas, just plain wrapping). You might think that having your 4th kid is a little easier since you know what to expect, but there are just so many other loose ends to think about that I think this is the most stressful one yet. Still, in less than a day he will be here, the little baby, and it’ll be a different game of waiting–waiting to heal, waiting to go home, waiting to get used to all this.

Mostly, it’ll be a drug-cocktail-fueled vacation away from my house, and I can’t lie when I say I most certainly am looking forward to that. Although the drugs (Pitocin? Antibiotics? Colace? Glycerin suppositories?) aren’t what you might think of usually when you think of a bender. Still, it’s something out of the ordinary and a welcome relief from being pregnant, again, for almost another year. Again.

In two years (when it’s physically impossible for us to have more children), I will be getting back to my “old self” again, and of course I mean “my new self” that has been invented in the last 10 years and not the old “old me,” without kids and/or cares. Yes, by “old self” I mean the one who’s pretty much okay with the sleepless nights, worrying about who’s getting veggies and what kid is potty trained.

In two years, I’ll have a 10-year-old, and people will say “it’s a girl thing” when I complain about her being sassy but I’ll try to remember that it’s a hormone thing and being nice and having rules goes a long way. And just getting through.

In two years I’ll have 4 kids, God willing, healthy and happy and ages 10, 7, 4, and 2. And I’ll be healed up from all major c-section things and I’ll be walking/running and the dog will be too, and we’ll all be more healthy and in shape.

In two years I will have an appetite and I’ll feel like cooking again, which means we’ll also be more healthy–or at least more well-fed–than we are now, when Mommy is practically begging everyone to have “breakfast for dinner!” or fast food again. Pregnancy isn’t wonderful for cooking.

And, in two years, I’ll probably miss my baby and I’ll be writing about baby Jesu that came mid-way through December. My Jesu, not Mary’s, and how I bet her experience would’ve been drastically different with an epidural and a hospital.

But for now I’ll just say wish me luck. And hopefully I’ll write again this month. Or–at least–within the  next two years.

I’m really not promising anything….


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