The Last One?

So baby number four is coming.  

18 weeks later, and I think we have all wrapped our minds around this little surprise.  In the nearly 11 years we have been together, four kids has always seemed to be consensus.  The first two came easily and during our beloved Ohio years in a little apartment with nowhere to be but with each other.  With only 21 months separating the biggest sisters, we knew having babies close together was something we enjoyed.  To be honest, I never remember the fact that they are close being a really hard thing.  I am sure there were moments of crazy, but nearly 4.5 years later, those moments don't really seem to come up to the surface.  Which makes me believe it really was mostly good.  Having Ivy and Eliza three years apart wasn't exactly the plan, but a heartbreaking miscarriage and few months of trying to again get pregnant brought us a larger gap than we anticipated.  And it's been great.  I've loved having two big sisters to lead the way for our babe.  It's been great for all of us.  And while there were a few moments (especially during the first three months of Ivy Jo's life) where three kids sounded like a good plan, I think Ryan and I both knew we weren't quite done.  Four was what we had always planned, and after the initial crazy started to pass, we realized that still felt right for our family.

The question became when we wanted to try and add that fourth baby to the mix.  Did we want them close again, or maybe further apart like two and three were?  In the end we seemed to agree that somewhere in the middle sounded best.  I had been dreaming and planning an amazing vacation to celebrate our tenth anniversary and my 30th birthday for sometime this spring.  Being pregnant on that grand adventure didn't seem ideal, so we thought maybe after our celebrations would be a good time to start thinking more seriously about the idea of another babe.

As fall arrived, I was still nursing Ivy (the longest I had ever nursed one of our babies) and was looking forward to making it to a year and possibly beyond.  Because I was still nursing, I was only taking the mini-pill, and while I should have learned that even missing one pill could create a big surprise (thanks to my BFF Breanne and her 13-months-apart babes), I wasn't too concerned and continued taking the low-dose birth control and nursing a few times a day.

My period finally returned in August, and while I knew my cycle might be far from my typical pattern, I got a little nervous when it seemed to be taking longer than normal to arrive in September.  That led me to take a pregnancy test which came back negative, and was confirmed a few days later.  When October came around I didn't think twice about it taking longer to show up.  But then I realized I had been getting up to use the bathroom a lot at night, feeling a little extra tired, and was that a touch of nausea I was feeling?  I told myself my mind was playing tricks on me, but decided to throw a box of pregnancy tests in my Amazon Prime cart to ship with Eliza's birthday supplies.  Who buys pregnancy tests on Amazon?  

The tests arrived and while I told myself to wait a few more days to see what happened, it's not easy to let those tests just sit in a box when your mind is starting to race with what-ifs.  So I took the test, set it on the back of the toilet and tried to pretend to forget about it for a second.  I think I took about two minutes to change into pajamas and went back in to check.  And there it was.  Two pink lines that couldn't be denied (although I think I tried).  Ryan was out in the kitchen and I grabbed the test, walked out and handed it to him.  Then we both sat in stunned silence for a good few minutes, with a few moments of nervous laughter breaking things up just for good measure.  

Baby number was happening, and there was no going back now.  I quickly plugged what I estimated to be the date of my last period into a due date calculator and June 16th suddenly became one of our new favorite days.  

June 16th means that baby and Ivy would be 19 months a part, but seeing as how my last two babies have showed up around 36 weeks, I'm guessing the age gap will be closer to 18 months.  18 months…it seems so close.  I've had to remind myself often that I've done close before and that I will be able to do it again, but then I also remember that our lives look a lot different and a lot busier than they did with our first set of close-in-age siblings.

I don't doubt that adding this sweet babe is going to be a growing process for our family, but I keep reminding myself that this is just what I am supposed to be doing right now.  Right now is my season of in-the-thick-of-it motherhood.  Motherhood is pretty all-consuming with just one kid, and it has become even more so with each child we've added to the mix.  But along with the needs to be met and sleep to be lost, there has also been so much love.  It's stretching and challenging, and many days I am not sure why I signed up for this gig, but at the end of every day the overriding feeling always seems to be love, and that is what gives me hope for whatever crazy is ahead.

So now that four children is no longer some future plan, it's caused us to really think about if this is the final piece in our family.  To be honest, I'm not sure yet.  I think that's okay, but it also makes me more aware that this could be the last time I do this pregnancy thing or give birth or snuggle a newborn.  And sure, pregnancy isn't really that fun for anyone, but overall it has been a positive experience in my life.  Which makes thinking of experiencing these last kicks and flutters, or anticipating if it's a boy or a girl for the last time a little daunting.  For now I think we feel confident that this is the last one.  Maybe that will change, but for now I am going to think it won't.  Whether we end up with a house full of girls or a spoiled baby brother, we are excited to watch our family move closer to the dreams we always envisioned.  

When I was newly married, I was sure I would have all my kids by the time I turned thirty.  Then I moved closer to thirty and realized that was a pretty pointless goal, and you actually still feel really young and capable when you are thirty-years-old (imagine that!).  But here I am, staring down age thirty and growing what very well could be my last little babe.  It's funny how life works, sometimes.  More than anything I am trying to trust in this plan for our family.  I've questioned how much this was the Lord's timing versus a result of poor planning on our part.  I guess it's a little of both, but I need to believe this baby was more than just an accident.  I need to believe this baby was meant to come to our family right now, to teach us all something that we couldn't have learned otherwise, and to help our love grow to heights we can't yet even imagine.

18 weeks.  My personally designated halfway point.