The nursery

I sat in Claire's room and watched her fall asleep in her crib for the last time on Friday afternoon.  As I did, I cried thinking about the number of times I've watched my kids fall asleep there.  The number of times I've rocked my babies to sleep in there.  The number of hymns I've sung, the number of diapers I've changed, the number of outfits I've changed.

That room was green, with an airplane theme when Jack came home from the hospital.  I so badly wanted the room to be perfect.  I had everything ready.

The planes were still up when Bennett came home, but by the time he was 6ish months old, it was painted light blue and had a rocket/space theme.  I started designing artwork for the walls, but Claire came along before I ever finished it.

For Claire, we painted it gray.  Twice.  The first gray looked too purple.  We used pink and gray as the colors, and again, I have half finished artwork that I would have hung in there.

I remember before Jack was born, sitting in there and wondering what it would be like to rock a baby to sleep.  I've spent hundreds of hours in that room praying for them and dreaming about who they'll be come someday.  It's always been a place for cuddling and caring for whoever happened to be living in that room at the time.

The bowling alley

One of the things I don't want to forget about this house is the bowling alley.

This photo is taken from the doorway of our bedroom.  Claire's room is at the very end of the hall and the boys' room is the second door on the right. 

We nicknamed it "the bowling alley" because of the sounds we'd hear out there every morning, especially in the winter when the whole house was still dark.  One or two of them would get out of bed and sprint down the hall to our room. The sound that they would make when they got out of bed reminded us of being at a bowling alley.  They'd get a running start from their doorway and then would crash into our bedroom door to open it . . . rarely turning the knob.  We'd hear a door creak and then, "BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM CRASH!"

The sound wasn't always welcome.  Often we'd groan when we heard the creaking door and the foot steps winding up for the crash, but it's one of those things we've become so familiar with and one of those things I don't want to forget.

Shopping with Mama

Claire and I had to run errands in town yesterday, and we honestly had a lot of fun.  It's hard to believe that a couple of months ago, I dreaded going anywhere with her in the car because she would scream the entire time.

Our first stop was at Sam's Club and I got her a soft pretzel for a snack, which was a big deal because her brothers weren't there so she didn't have to share.  Of course, she only ate about 3 bites, but still . . . there was no sharing involved so she was happy.

From there, we went to Walmart.  In general, I avoid Walmart, but it's the easiest place to make purchases at for camp.  I'd been warned by some shoppers at Sam's Club that the air conditioning was out, and it was, but the temperatures weren't as bad as I'd anticipated.

We had a rather long list and Claire was relatively patient while we searched for everything.  She was doing a lot of yelling, so we talked quite a bit about indoor and outdoor voices, but she was pretty set on using her outside voice for everything.

We filled our cart and got in line at check out.  As we waited, I noticed her staring at the back of woman ahead of us.  I looked up at the woman and then looked back at Claire and could just see the wheels turning.  Everything at that point seemed to be moving in slow motion.  Before I could distract her, she laughed and said (in an outside voice, of course), "HA! HA!  I SEE YOUR UNDIES!"  It was in the exact same tone and with the same level of joy in which she hears her brothers tease each other.  Perfect.

Fortunately, the women in front of us had a good sense of humor.  She pulled down her shirt a little in the back and we all laughed . . . my face a little more red than the others.

We had two separate orders on the belt.  I paid for them both, loaded them into the cart and we started toward the exit.  Claire noticed that the large bags of bird seed and the gallon of milk weren't in shopping bags and said (again, in an outside voice), "WE DIDN'T PAY FOR THIS STUFF!"

I assured her that we did and pointed to the receipts that I had let her hold . . . but she's 2 1/2, so if it's not in a bag, it's not paid for.  She continued to yell, "WE DIDN'T PAY FOR THIS STUFF!  WE DIDN'T PAY FOR THIS STUFF!" while I waved the receipts and laughed nervously as bypassers stared, wondering who was telling the truth.  We approached the exit and Claire got very serious and wide-eyed and looked at the greeter and whispered, "WE DIDN'T PAY FOR THIS STUFF!"  He just laughed as I nervously waved my receipts, assuring him that we'd paid for everything in my cart.

I can laugh about it now.  Actually, I was laughing all the way out to the car.  It was mildly embarrassing, and very amusing.  I'll take this kind of thing over screaming and fits any day!

Where we're at right now . . .

June/July 2014 has been the most stressful time in my life thus far.  I realize that this makes me pretty fortunate . . . if this is as stressful as it gets, I'll consider myself lucky.  Nonetheless, it's been a lot to handle.  The sentimentality over moving our family out of our home, the pressure of trying to get packed up, the busyness at work, the anxiety about living in a trailer for a few weeks, the uncertainty of when we'll close on our new house, the apprehension about baby #4 . . . it's all catching up with me this morning.  Here's what's going on with us right now:

Musical Houses.  We currently don't own a home, and that's just weird.  We closed on the sale of our house on June 30 and we have to be out by July 30.  We're in contract on a new house in Spring Arbor, and aren't sure of a closing date.  As you can imagine, this is stressful.  I think I'll be able to calm down a little when we have that settled.  We have a trailer set up at camp and are moving over the course of the next two Saturdays.  Once we close, the owners will have 7 days to be out. We'll stay in the trailer until we close on and gain occupancy to our new house.  I've been so nervous about things with the new house falling through.  I really have no reason to think that, but my mind always goes to the worst case scenario.  It's just a gift I have.

The state of our house is like nothing I've ever lived in before.  Boxes everywhere, laundry piled in corners, the kitchen is empty, but we have paper plates, dishes and snacks out on the counter . . . it's a mess. Living in a state of chaos has always stressed me out, but the fact that I can't just go clean up is maddening.  I'm on a no-lift restriction which is a little unrealistic, given that I have a 2 1/2 year old that often ONLY wants Mom.

Getting ready to leave our house has been so emotionally taxing.  We're the only family to ever have lived here and it's all our kids have ever known.  It breaks my heart to think that Claire will have no recollection of this home and Ben's memory will be spotty.  Jack will remember the most, but those memories will start to fade.  This home has been such an important part of our life, and leaving is tearing me apart.

Packing up.  We have a lot of stuff.  I don't know how that happened, but I've decided that from here on out, we'll pretend to get ready to move once every 3 years to help with clutter control.  The craziest thing is the furniture that we managed to get INTO the basement, that we're having trouble getting out now.  We're having to move all of our belongings into 3 storage units until we have occupancy of our house.  So we get to move twice.  Lucky us.

I so badly wish we could afford to higher packers and movers.  That would be lovely.

The Summer.  We are currently in the middle of our busiest time of the entire year.  Right now.  In the middle of a very stressful move.  It's fun how that came together like that, right?  Our patience is so thin and our nerves are fried.  I'm finding myself responding to people, my children included, in ways that I'm not proud of.  Doing our jobs well during a normal summer is a lot of work, but this summer it's even more so.  On top of normal summer stuff, I'm trying to prepare for maternity leave this fall and get all of my late August/September projects done now.

We're also having to think through how things will work at camp with us living about 20 minutes away, instead of 5 minutes away.  I don't think it will affect our actual work day all that much, but it might affect how often we eat meals at camp, or just go there to let the kids run around.  It's just going to be a change in how we operate as a family, and that's hard for me to wrap my head around.

The Baby.  I woke up a couple of mornings ago and said, "I feel WAY more pregnant than I did when I went to sleep last night."  I have 5 1/2 weeks left until my due date, and even though I feel huge, I so badly want to be settled into a home before this little girl arrives; but, all of the golf carts at camp are out of order, so I've been doing a lot of walking and I can just feel her starting to drop.  Never have I wanted a baby to come after her due date like I have with this one.  I haven't been sleeping more than 3 - 4 hours a night, which adds to my lack of patience and energy.  She moved SO much . . . more than the other three . . . but she's slowed down in the last few days.

I had an appointment on Thursday and found out that she's flipped and is no longer head down.  As you can imagine, this has stressed me out.  I'm praying that she gets her little behind back where it belongs before labor starts.

My vision has been getting really blurry and I'm becoming nearsighted.  I know this is a common side effect of pregnancy, but I've never experienced it before.  Just one more thing.


The Kids.  This week I'm realizing how much all of the impending change and uncertainty is affecting them.  They know that their lives are about to change quite a bit . . . not just moving houses, but moving farther away from camp.  I don't think I've thought enough about how they're affected by this.  Plus, they've been getting to bed 2 - 3 hours past bedtime every night.  Lack of sleep is really affecting our entire family right now!

I've not been the model of excellent parenting, and they've been yelled at for little things way more than they should have been.  Last night, in the middle of me giving them instructions for bedtime, Jack asked for a glass of water and I said, "CAN YOU PLEASE THINK OF SOMEONE ELSE FOR JUST ONE MINUTE!"  Let me say this again:  He asked me for a glass of water.  He was just thirsty.  And he's 7-years-old.  

I find myself praying daily that they'll not remember this time all that clearly and that no permanent damage will be done to my relationship with them.  I've done A LOT of apologizing and even more crying in front of them.

After I put the kids to bed, Jack came into our room crying and told me he didn't really want to move.  He feels the same way about change that I do . . . sad.  It's hard, too, because I don't want to get them all pumped up about our new house until we have a closing date. We talked about how the only thing that makes our house special is that we all live here, and that once we're not here, it won't really be all that special anymore.  I only half believed myself.

Praying.  I've been praying so much.  Praying that we close soon and smoothly on our new home.  Praying that my kids won't be damaged by this move.  Praying that I'll be able to sleep in a camper.  Praying that Claire won't flip out when we have to shower in the Field House every day for a few weeks.  Praying that this baby stays put for a little while longer.

Most of all, I'm praying that this will be a good change for our family . . . something that will bring us closer and that God will use for His good and will draw us closer to Him through it.

Grandpa Luke

I'm so proud to have called Bill Luke "grandpa" for 11 1/2 years. He loved his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren so well. Words can't express how thankful I am for the legacy he left and the forever-impact that it's had on our family. We're thankful that he's healed, whole and with Jesus, but we miss him tremendously.

He passed away on Father's Day.  He had the ultimate Father's Day with his heavenly Father, I suppose.  It's still hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that he's gone.  His trailer still sits on his campsite at camp, and I catch myself glancing over to see if he's sitting out in his lounge chair.



I think his passing will really sink in for me during Family Camp when he's not hauling coffee to the tents and I don't have him down the hall from my office counting offering or calling me with service attendance numbers.

Long before Kyle and I were married, engaged or even dating, I referred to his grandpa as "Gramps."  Everyone who worked at camp did.  Back then, he and grandma took care of all of the gardening and flowers, but I think their primary role was getting to know the staff and making us all feel loved.

My grandpas and one of my grandmas passed away before Kyle and I were married.  My Grandpa Haskin died when I was 4, my grandma Haskin died when I was 11, and my Grandpa Wietholter died a few months before Kyle and I were engaged.  So when I joined Kyle's family, I was more than thankful for another set of grandparents.  And from day one, I felt like I was one of their own.

One of my favorite memories about Grandpa Luke might be the night Kyle and I got engaged. He was so excited for us . . . but he kept telling everyone, "I'm going to be a great grandpa!" We had to keep reminding him that sharing the news that way was going to give people the wrong idea, but it didn't stop him. He was just so proud he was of his grandchildren and was just as proud (5 years later) of his great grandchildren.

We remembered Grandpa Luke at a memorial service yesterday and it was beautiful.  It was packed out with people who had been influenced by Kyle's grandparents in some way.  I was so overwhelmed with the fact that there was no mistake as to what Grandpa Luke's life was all about.

Kyle and I talked on the way home about his grandpa's legacy and how we can be intentional about passing that on to our children.  How can we live in a way that leaves them with no questions about what our lives are about?  We're grateful for Grandpa's life, and for how much he loved Jesus.  We're thankful for the example he and Grandma set in their 60 years of marriage and his faithfulness to her, even as her memory has faded over the last few years and she was moved to a nursing home.

We gave the option of whether or not to come into the service with us and he chose to.  It was very emotional for him, but I'm glad that he did.  I'm thankful that he got to hear about his great grandpa and the things that were important to him.  I ended up having to get up and sit in the back with Claire because she wasn't all that excited about staying in the nursery, so I'm glad that Kyle had Jack there with him. 

When we sang "How Great Thou Art" Claire's eyes lit up and she said, "I LOVE THIS SONG!"  And then we we closed with the doxology, she belted it out just like she does at bedtime. Claire will have no memory of Grandpa Luke, and Ben's memories will be sparse, but the legacy he left for them will be something that we never let them forget.

Home

This living room is where Ben and Claire both took their first steps.  Ben started from the wall under the pictures and toddled across to the wall with the sliding door.  With Claire, the Christmas tree was up in the corner, and we were giving her ornaments to carry for the few steps that it took her to get there.

This living room is where I have my most vivid memory of bringing Jack home . . . Kyle holding him while Murphy (our dog) jumped up trying to get a peek at her new little friend.

My kids played here while I made dinner.  I dug toys out from under the chairs and loveseat almost every night.  Kyle and I sat in this room after the kids were in bed on so many evenings . . . sometimes laughing and sometimes crying. 

I remember laying on the floor next to the fireplace when I was pregnant with Jack and finding out the hard way how hot the glass is . . . which led us to purchase that screen the very next day.

I remember sitting in the arm chairs and nursing each of my babies late at night.  I remember watching movies with my mom there when she stayed with me after Jack was born.

Looking at this room, I see kids hunched over those bins in the corner, digging through the toys to find the one they want, while the toys they toss aside make music or siren noises.

I see each of my kids as babies, laying on a blanket in the middle of the floor, or under a baby gym.

I see our small group meeting while our kids play in the basement, and I can almost smell the coffee brewing.

In about a month, this living room will be a memory. Last week, only 10 days after listing our house, we signed a purchase agreement.  Done. Sold.  In a week or so, we'll close and then we have to be out in 30 days.  We've lived here for 9.5 years and I really did think that we'd be here forever.  I love this house.  It's crowded, but still . . . I love it.  I'm so sad to leave.

But I know that it's what we need to do.  I'm praying that something opens up soon, because the pickings are slim right now.  We've seen a few that we like, but nothing we've loved.  I've looked at every listing in Jackson County and refresh my realtor.com app at least once an hour.  I'm doing my best not to panic.

Meanwhile, you can expect more of these sentimental posts about this house and how much I'll miss it.

Things are looking up . . .

The first three days of this week have contained more good than the previous two weeks combined.  I'm so thankful, because at the end of last week, I was nearing the end of my rope.  Here are a few highlights:

• The brighter mornings mean that I've woken on my own more easily.  Sure, I'm still only getting 4 - 5 hours of sleep because I'm crazy busy, but being up before the kids makes a huge difference in how my day goes.
  
• Mother's Day was so much better than I had expected.  We had a great brunch with Kyle's family, and the restaurant was VERY kid friendly.  I don't know if I was exceptionally hungry or if the food was exceptionally good, but either way, I really enjoyed it.  It was close to 80 on Sunday and I loved every second of it.  I still had to do grocery shopping and meal planning for the week, but making my list out on the deck seemed less like work. 
  
• Monday and Tuesday were very warm, too.  The kind of warm that leaves you sticky and hot all day.  You will NEVER hear me complain about that.
  
• We had a great conversation with a new realtor today that was encouraging and so, so educational.  I think we'll still go ahead with listing our house.  So much has to go right and happen in the right timing, but I'm less worried.  Fingers crossed.
  
• I've been able to check some things off of my to do list.  There were a few things that I forgot to put on my list, so I put them on and then checked them off right away.  If they don't show up in the "completed" list, they don't count.  I had to do it, right?
   
•  Baby #4 is crazy active.  She moves so much and I love just sitting and feeling and watching her movements.  All three kids have felt her move now.  When I was pregnant with Claire, I was constantly sad about her being my last and everything being my "last" experience.  It's not like that this time.  I'm very comfortable with this baby being my last baby, and I'm really enjoying feeling her move and grow.
  
• However, I'm not enjoying everything about this pregnancy.  I don't like being pregnant, in general.  I just feel achy and bloated.  Nothing fits well, and I can't ever really get comfortable.  It's worth every minute, though.
  
• I had some errands to run after picking Jack up from school yesterday, so I took all three kids out for ice cream after.  It was fun just hanging out with the three of them.  I can't believe they're all mine.
  
• We made barbecue chicken pizza on the grill last night.  What's not to love about that?

Dear Claire, Month 34-35

Dear Claire,

When people describe you, the word "expressive" is used most often.  You are THE most expressive little girl I've ever met.  When you're excited, it shows all over your face.  When you're upset, everyone knows.  As much as I hate to perpetuate the "girls are more dramatic" stereotype, there's no denying it with you.

One of my favorite things to do with you is sing.  We sing hymns together every night.  Your brothers would always sing along, but you SING LOUD!  You won't sing in front of other people, but when it's just the two of us, you don't hold back.

You're talking now.  Like, for real talking.  Not just words or phrases.  Full sentences and paragraphs.  It happened at some point this winter, and seemingly overnight.  This has increased your ability to have fun with your brothers.  Sometimes in the car, you'll just look at Ben, laugh and say, "Be funny, Ben!"  You love all of the faces and noises that he makes just to make you laugh.

When I ask you your name, you usually respond, "Sara Luke" or "Kyle Luke."  And then you laugh your head off like you've just made the most hilarious joke ever.  I'll give you a look and you'll say, "I called me Sara!" or "Your name is not Mama!  It's Claire Bear!"  You sure have perfected the art of 2-year0-old silliness.

You have developed a HUGE fear of bugs.  Something happened last weekend that set you off, and now I have trouble getting you out the door.  We searched your body for a sting, but didn't see anything. I don't know if a bug landed on you or if you just saw something that concerned you, but now, if you see so much as a gnat from 10 feet away, you're climbing up my body like a monkey up a tree and crying like you've been attacked by something much larger than you.  In the bath last night, you started screaming and I panicked for a second.  I looked over and you were huddled in a corner of the tub pointing and a piece of fuzz floating in the water that you thought was a bug.  This fear could make for a VERY long summer.

To be honest, it reminds me of how you are around dogs.  If you so much as see one (even on a leash) from a distance, you FREAK OUT.  I hate to admit that this probably all comes directly from my gene pool, because I was the same way.

When you're freaking out about bugs and dogs, it's sometimes hard for me to be patient.  I want to just say, "Stop it!  You're fine!"   But the truth is that you're not fine.  You're scared.  It's ok to be scared.  While I can't rid your life of dogs and bugs forever, I can promise that I'll hold you when you're scared and help you to overcome your fears.  I will take your fears seriously, no matter how trivial or irrational they may seem to outsiders. 

You are both a joy and a challenge, Claire Bear.  You still love cuddling with me and reading with me.  Sometimes I just sit and watch you play or pretend, in awe of the fact that you are MY daughter.  MINE.  Words can't even describe how amazing I think you are, and how much I love you.  Being your mom is a privilege and a blessing.

Love,
Mama

The worst weeks

The last two weeks have been my worst weeks.  I've been trying to think objectively about whether they've been mostly the result of circumstances, pregnancy hormones, the crazy time of year or fatigue.  I'm sure it's the combination of all four.  In any case, they've been really bad.

We started getting our house ready to sell (which is all-consuming), only to find out that the amount of money we'd have to PAY to SELL our house is a lot more than we had anticipated.  So, by the time we pay to get out of our house, there won't be much left to put toward our new house.  And a new house?  We've found one that we really like, and we've heard there's lots of interest from other buyers.  It's not on the market yet, but when it is, I doubt we'll get it.

I feel so defeated.  I wish I could go back to 2005 Kyle and Sara and say, "They're lying to you.  Real estate IS NOT a good investment right now.  Just wait a few years."  And then yesterday afternoon, our neighbors began constructing a HUGE kennel in their back yard, right outside of our dining room windows.  To say that it sent me into a panic would be an understatement.  Maybe prospective buyers will really like dog-watching?  Last night, Kyle got up to get some water and when he tried to swivel the faucet on the kitchen sink, it just broke right off.  Right off in his hand.  So he spent the day replacing that.  If we DO sell our house, the new owners will have a nice, new faucet on the kitchen sink, so that's nice for them.

I have been at my parenting worst this week.  This is NOT an exaggeration.  I've yelled at my kids and made so many threats that I knew I wouldn't follow through on.  Did I mention that I've yelled a lot?  Screamed, really?  I can't take full credit for this, because they've been awful, but I'm not sure which came first . . . my issues or theirs.  I feel horrible.  I feel like when they think back to their childhood, the last two weeks are all they will remember.

May is always the most stressful month.  Once camps begin, the momentum just kind of carries us.  But getting ready for the summer is really hard.

On top of everything, when we signed Ben and Jack up for soccer in the fall, we didn't consider how their spring practices and games would affect baseball.  Fortunately (unfortunately?) they don't conflict.  But that means we have Soccer on Mondays and Saturdays and baseball on Wednesdays and Fridays. 

Have I mentioned that Brian and Debbie moved away at the end of April?  While I'm genuinely excited for them, it did kind of feel like I lost my only friend.

I have NOT been eating well and I'm positive that's contributed to my gloominess.  I've consumed too much junk, because it's what's easy during this time of year.  I need to do better about meal planning, but we do have a lot of meals at camp, so when I think about grocery shopping for just one or two dinners, I figure it's easier to eat out.  I need to stop that.  And I really should always carry healthy snacks so that I have no excuse for fast food.

Starbucks got my drink wrong 3 times this week.  They've never once messed up my drink, but THREE TIMES IN ONE WEEK.  I know, I know . . . first world problems.  But when you're paying first world prices for coffee?  You expect better.

The cashier at Meijer pointed at my belly and asked if this was my third child (Jack wasn't with us) and I said, "No, this is my fourth.  My oldest is at school."  She replied, "Yeah, I thought it looked like you probably had more."  Uh, thanks?  Ouch?  I don't even know how to respond to that.

I don't even want to get into how many people tell me that I look big for being due in August.  Yes, I was a little fat before I was pregnant.  Please let's talk about that more.

Because Kyle helps to coach Jack's team, it's just me, Ben and Claire sitting on the sidelines.  They're a handful.  Especially after 7:00, which is normally their bedtime.  After one game, another mom whispered (not quietly enough), "It looks like she has enough kids already."  And something about more than I can handle.  I didn't even bother to shoot a dirty look to let her know that I heard, because I probably would have cried.

One of the hymns Claire and I have been singing is, "What a Friend We Have in Jesus."  The last part of the first verse says:

"Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
Oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer!"

I've tried to keep that in mind . . . that I don't have to carry all of this and that I need to be praying about everything.  But honestly?  On most days, I just can't get there.  Praying about things leads to ugly crying, and I don't usually have time to recover from that without before I have to be somewhere.

Tomorrow starts a new week.  But tomorrow is Mother's Day and I've had a long standing "dislike" for the "holiday" in general.  Getting my kids ready for church and out the door for the late service (rather than the early service) because we're meeting for lunch after it?  And then eating with all three of them in a restaurant during nap time?  Happy Mother's Day?  I don't get it.

Monday, though.  Monday is when it's all going to turn around.  It has to, right?

This is what little sisters are for.

As overheard in the car this week . . .

Claire: Ben? Ben? Ben?

Ben: What?

Claire: You cwanky, Ben?

Ben: No.

Claire: Ben? Ben? Ben?

Ben: What, Claire?

Claire: You cwanky?

Ben: I already said I'm not.

Claire: Ben? Ben? Ben?

Ben: I don't want to talk right now.

Claire: You cwanky right now?

Parental humiliation

On Wednesday, Bennett had a meltdown.  Shortly after that, I had a breakdown.

It was fun.

On the way to school, Ben asked if we could stop at McDonalds since the cinnamon roll I gave him wasn't exactly a healthy breakfast.  I wasn't sure whether or not I should be more ashamed of the fact that he was aware that his mother had not given him a healthy breakfast or the fact that he saw McDonalds as a healthy alternative.

While at school, the aide in his classroom came out to tell me he had a stomach ache because "his mom gave him a cinnamon roll for breakfast and it made him not feel well."  For the record, he had fruit and milk, too.  But whatever.

A few minutes later, the aide brought him out to me and said he still wasn't feeling well.  It was only 30 minutes before class was over, so I just decided to pack up and take him home.  He had been up with nightmares the night before, so my guess was just that he was tired.

This is where it all blew up in my face.

"I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!"  He kicked and screamed.  He tried to run away.  Several times, I sat him on the couch to tried and reason with him (because, of course, 4-year-olds are very rational, especially when they're running on little sleep).  Ultimately, I had to gather all of my belongings and carry my flailing child out of the building.

I'm not even sure how to appropriately describe the level of noise coming out of my blessed child's mouth.  I'm fairly certain the teachers were ready to go into lockdown mode, because surely there was a student being attacked in the hall. 


As I'm carrying him out of the church, he starts yelling, "YOU'RE HURTING ME ON PURPOSE!  YOU'RE HURTING ME ON PURPOSE!"   Um, what?!  I cannot explain to you how happy I was that I was in a safe place with people who know that I do not purposely hurt my children and not, say, the Target parking lot.

I'm so proud to say that throughout this whole thing, I totally kept my cool, was emotionally stable and handled everything with grace.

Kidding.

I did keep my cool, but I was fighting back tears the entire time.  As soon as he started yelling, "You're hurting me on purpose!" I was weeping.  Like, ugly sobbing right there in the parking lot.  I was humiliated, frustrated and unsure of how to handle the situation.  I was grateful that the preschool director and classroom aide were carrying my stuff for me so I didn't have to go back in.

Why do I tell this fairly typical story about fatigued preschooler behavior?  I'm getting to it . . .

The next day, I dropped Jack at school, and took Ben and Claire with me on a full day of errands.  We went to Ann Arbor and stopped at Trader Joe's, the mall, The Treehouse, McDonalds (for a healthy lunch, of course), and then a stop to browse at The Toy House while we waited until Jack was done at school.  It was a FULL day.

It was also a GREAT day.  They were both so well behaved, Claire napped in the car on our way home from Ann Arbor, and we all had fun.  Every time I asked them to do something, they responded with "OK, Mama" and every time they were frustrated, they used their words and we worked it out.  If you were to have followed me all day, you'd think I had perfect kids, and that I was up for the award of Perfect Parent.

On two occasions during our outing there were older couples who stopped and commented on how well behaved my children were and how nice it was to see how they used their manners.  I couldn't help but laugh, because you know if these same people had witnessed the episode the previous day, they'd be muttering under their breath about the lousy mother who needs to get her child under control.

So this is where I get to the point:  Judging a parent based on the little slice of life that I happen to see that day is just not fair.  I can't know if the mom I'm envying, who seems like she might have memorized the script from a love and logic instructional video, was crying in a parking lot yesterday because her son was throwing the mother of all tantrums.  And the kid I see throwing a royal fit for his parents, who seem like they don't have a clue?  It might be because they're all exhausted from nightmares that woke them up the whole night before (combined with the fact that his well-meaning mom wanted to give her kids a special treat for breakfast).

You just never know.


The fact is that I'm a good mom.  And so are the other moms I encounter.  To the best of  my knowledge, I've never met a mom who refuses to feed her kids or who locks her kids in a closet while she goes to buy drugs, or who abuses her kids.  The moms I know aren't perfect, but they're really good at what they do. We're all doing better than we think we are at this whole parenting gig.

20ish weeks

I feel like I have so much catching up to do.  I haven't really written anything about this pregnancy.  It had a rocky start, so I think everything feels a little different because of that.  I think maybe the fact that I'm older (I LOVE it with the midwife refers to the "maternal age" as a thing . . . I'm 35, not 50) and that I'm chasing three kids around contributes to most of the differences.

I mainly just have a lot more pain this time . . . tendon and joint pain all around my belly.  I had very little nausea with the first three pregnancies, but was nauseated constantly for the first 10 weeks of this one.  Of course, I googled the heck out of what that could mean.  As it turns out, it simply means that I'm pregnant.  There were a few days I couldn't even get out of bed because I felt so sick.  Apple slices were the only thing I could eat without feeling sick.

My belly is growing faster than the first three, which is to be expected.  I also started out looking a little pregnant already, so that contributed, I'm sure.  I've developed an aversion to bacon, just like I did with Ben.  Even the smell makes me gag.  I haven't gained as much weight as I had with the other three by this point, but that's bound to change here eventually.

We had our 20 week ultrasound before we left on vacation last week and it was wonderful!  It doesn't matter that it was the fourth time doing this . . . it was still amazing to see the little person growing inside of me.  She looked healthy and perfect.

We brought home cupcakes with PINK frosting to share the news with the kids.  Jack and Ben really wanted a boy, so we weren't sure how they would react to another sister.  Jack said, "We'll probably still love her anyway."  Ben pouted.  They both recovered from their disappointment quickly and are now excited.  Ben even said it would be "nice for Claire to have a little friend."  They started making a list of potential names, the first of which was "Claire, Jr."

Here's a rough photo of my baby bump at 20 weeks.  Pardon the beach hair and blurriness.

 

And proof that I can still see my toes.  This is the only photographic evidence that I was on vacation with my family last week.

A few shots of her beautiful profile.

The tech said she was laying weird and had her feet tucked back into the sac (or something like that).  At first, we were afraid we might not be able to find out her gender, but she finally gave it up.  Here are the best shots she could get of her feet and a few fingers.

We love her so much already!

How I found out I was pregnant with baby #4. Three times.

This is a long post, but it's the true story of baby #4.


THE FIRST TIME:
About a year ago in March, I found out that I was pregnant with baby #4.

A week later, I learned that it was a false alarm.  I won't go into details, because they are humiliating.  But I was not, in fact, pregnant.

That week that I thought that I was pregnant, however, was an emotional roller coaster.  I cried for the first two days.  Kyle and I couldn't talk about it without me crying.  I was panicked about where we'd put the baby, and how we'd afford a baby and what on earth we were going to do with four children.

But as the week went on, we started to figure things out.  People have had a lot more children in houses a lot smaller than ours.  And finances?  They always seem to work out.  Maybe only one of our children will be able to go to college.  The others can learn a trade, am I right?  We were figuring it out.  By the end of the week, my fear had turned to excitement.

Then, on that Friday, I discovered it was a false alarm I was devastated.  I didn't have a miscarriage.  I didn't lose a real baby.  But I did lose something.  Everyone who's ever been pregnant knows that this minute you find out you're pregnant . . . even just a few weeks . . .  you start to make plans.  You start to figure things out.  In your mind?  That baby is as good as born.  I lost the idea of a baby.  Does that make me sound crazy?  Perhaps.  Still . . . it was rough.
I had only told a couple of close friends, and most of them laughed when I told them I wasn't pregnant.  I thought that maybe I'd laugh at myself over it someday (I still can't), but all I could do for about 2 weeks was cry.  March was a bad month.  I was finally getting over the pneumonia, and this happened.  April and May were kind of rough, too.  I cried a lot and didn't want to be around people much.  The whole thing really shook me and left me asking . . . should we have a fourth?

We weren't able to answer that question right away, and I knew it was unwise to jump into a decision like that right away because we were still emotional.  So we decided to wait and see how we felt in the fall.

Fast forward to the fall, and we decided that we were going to see what happened.  If you've followed this blog from the beginning, you might remember that I ovulate 2 - 3 times a year, so it's not like we can really "try."  We just decided to stop taking measures to prevent pregnancy and see where we landed.  In my mind, I had decided that if I wasn't pregnant by Christmas, we'd call it good and our family complete.

I don't think I'd normally share this story, but it's such an important part of getting to where we are now.  If we hadn't had this false alarm, I'm not sure we'd have started thinking about having a fourth baby.  During those months after the false alarm, and maybe even as a result of that week, our desire for another child grew.

THE SECOND TIME:
In December, Kyle was talking to a friend who works for child protective services.  He was telling Kyle about how the foster homes in Jackson County are full and they were using part of the detention center in Pontiac as a foster care facility.  Kyle came home and told me this, and we wondered out loud if maybe that was the route we should be taking.  The very next day I took a pregnancy test (I hadn't had a period since August, so I took tests monthly just to make sure).  Lo and behold, I had a positive pregnancy test.

We decided to tell the kids Christmas day, even though our first appointment wasn't until the day after Christmas.  Kyle and I were both hesitant about this because we've always waited until we've heard the heartbeat to tell people . . . but Christmas seemed like the perfect time, and I've had 3 healthy pregnancies.  What were the chances something would go wrong with this one?  We put an extra stocking on the mantle for Christmas morning and when we pointed it out, Jack said, "Uh, is that for baby Jesus?"  Once they figured it out, they were excited.  We let them tell our families at family gatherings that day, too.  Jack and Ben were really excited to share the news.

The next day, we went for our first appointment.  The midwife did an ultrasound and saw nothing.  She thought maybe she saw a shadow in one spot, but couldn't be sure.  She sent us to the hospital to have another ultrasound done, and the ultrasound tech confirmed that the gestational sac measured 8 weeks, but there was no baby.  They diagnosed imminent miscarriage.  My bloodwork showed that my hcg levels were still going up, but that's not uncommon early in miscarriage.

During that appointment, I started bleeding, so they sent me home to let nature take its course.  As is protocol, they scheduled an ultrasound for 10 days later to confirm miscarriage before taking any action to end the pregnancy, though the midwife thought it wouldn't be necessary since bleeding had already started.

We had to go home and tell the kids that the baby wasn't growing any more.  I beat myself up on the entire drive home from the hospital for telling them so soon.  Jack cried with me and Ben just sat quietly.  Claire had no idea what was going on . . . it was actually her 2nd birthday.  We ate cupcakes and did our best to celebrate, but it just felt like there was a dark cloud over us.

I'd like to say that I was stoic and handled this all with grace and a grateful heart, but that would be a lie.  I was a wreck. I stayed in bed for most the next week, and missed every Christmas gathering we had scheduled.  I spent a lot of time praying and realizing how grateful I am to have three healthy kids.  And how lucky my kids are to have parents as awesome as we are.

Kyle took care of the kids that week and attended all of the Christmas festivities with them, but he was hurting, too. My parents ended up taking the kids for us for a few days, which was probably the most helpful thing anyone could have done.  It gave us a chance to spend time grieving and accepting everything, without having to put on a happy face for the kids. 

During the time that the kids were away, my friend Jeanette sent us flowers with a heartfelt note.  It was so nice of her, but the flowers had been sitting in subzero temperatures all day when I took them out of the box, so they looked like this:

When we saw them, Kyle and I started laughing hysterically.  I don't know why it struck us as funny . . . maybe the juxtaposition of the dead flowers and the beautiful note . . . but we laughed SO. HARD.  That laugh was exactly what we needed . . . even more than the flowers.  It was perfect.

We went back for what was supposed to be a follow-up appointment a week later.  I was still bleeding, But it was light enough that I didn't think I had yet miscarried.  The midwife said that once they confirmed the miscarriage at my next ultrasound, they could schedule a procedure to end the pregnancy right away.  I wanted them to do the ultrasound that day, but they wouldn't have been able to schedule any procedures until it had been at least 10 days from the first ultrasound.  I just wanted it all to be done.  I was constantly nauseated . . . more than I was with any pregnancy before that.  I was hormonal and bloated.  I had honestly accepted the miscarriage.  I had dealt with the loss.  I just wanted it to be over.

The ultrasound was scheduled for January 6.  The night before the ultrasound, we had about 18 inches of snow dumped on us.  We were snowed in.  I begged Kyle to please try to get us to U of M anyway, but we ended up stuck in the road in front of our driveway for a good 20 minutes.  I had to cancel, and they couldn't get me another appointment for 10 days!  I was so upset.  I knew there was no baby and I just wanted to stop feeling pregnant. The nausea and fatigue were overwhelming. Fortunately, the midwife got me in for Friday, so that I didn't have to wait over another weekend.  

THE THIRD TIME:
So we went in Friday.  Jeanette offered to watch Ben and Claire so we didn't have to drag them along, which was amazing.  I was sad, but anxious to get there and get everything scheduled.

Before we left that morning, I was listening to the Rend Collective version of "10,000 Reasons" and this stuck out to me:

"For all Your goodness I will keep on singing;
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find"

That verse played over and over in my head throughout the whole day.

On our way to the hospital, Kyle's Aunt Karen sent me this message:

"In the middle of running around and playing with Uncle Jeff at our party, Ben came up to U. Jeff and asked if he could tell him a secret. He then told him, "our baby isn't growing like he should." Uncle Jeff told him that he would pray that everything would be okay. Then they went back to playing. We wanted to respect your privacy, but even more, we wish to know if we could pray more specifically for you."

It was perfect timing.  I needed to have more people praying for us.  It was interesting, too, because Ben had very little to say about everything to us.  It was good to catch a glimpse of his heart and his concern.  At one point during the week before, he told me, "Mom, did you know that I pray for you in my head, like, all the time?"

When we got to the hospital, we parked in the lot that we've parked at for every OB appointment, and for the birth of all three kids.  We passed all of the hospital landmarks that have become so familiar over the last 7 years.  I was so sad that I would now have this memory tied to those things, too. 

A cheerful ultrasound tech came into the waiting room and said my name, and I followed her into the room.  With a big smile she said, "Do you want to know if you're having a boy or a girl, or are we keeping that a surprise?"  Through tears I said, "We're here to confirm a miscarriage and schedule an MVA."  She was so apologetic and realized she had the wrong Sara.  She promptly returned me to the waiting room where my name was called again, by a rather somber Fetal Medicine Specialist.  He had a packet of information on MVAs and D & Cs that he set down next to the computer.  He told us that after the ultrasound, he'd go over our options and we could schedule something as soon as possible.

I closed my eyes as he began the ultrasound and within seconds said, "Well, I'd like to introduce you to your baby.  And here is it's heartbeat."  I sat straight up and said, "WHAT?!"  And there she was.  A sweet little baby, about 8 weeks along.  I was stunned.  Kyle was stunned.  Quite frankly, the doctor was a little surprised, too.  He said it's rare that he gets to give good news in this situation.  I told him he was one of my top 5 favorite people.

We were given a due date of August 26, which is Kyle's birthday (the due date as also been reported as August 20 and August 13 . . . we're not really sure when this baby is due exactly).  Kyle and I left the Fetal Diagnostic Center agreeing that it was one of the best days ever.

I've had a few friends and family members question whether the ultrasound was just too early, or if they were wrong to presume miscarriage.  Just for reference, though . . . miscarriage is presumed when the gestational sac measures larger than 2 cm, with no embryo.  Mine was 2.3 cm.  By the time a woman's hcg level is 1000, they normally expect to see an embryo.  If it's over 5000, with no embryo, they presume miscarriage.  Mine was 67,000.  On top of that, I was having bleeding . . . not just spotting.  In retrospect, I think it was from the vaginal ultrasounds (even though I've been told they wouldn't cause as much bleeding as I had).  There's still no other explanation for the bleeding.

Midwife and doctor agreed that this little girl might have been up against the side of the sac or in a shadow.  She was definitely big enough to have shown up at that first ultrasound.  This little girl is already giving her brothers and sister a run for their money at hide and seek.

I feel so incredibly lucky (and to be honest, a little guilty) to have my story turn out this way, because I know that for many people it doesn't.  Why me and not them?  When I think about those two weeks that we thought our baby was gone, my heart still aches.  I know that there are people for whom that ache isn't a just a memory. 

Our 20 week ultrasound showed a healthy little girl, developing just as she should be.  I'm so grateful.

Stories

I often wonder what stories my kids will tell about me.  I'll hear speakers talk about their childhoods, or tell anecdotes from when they were little and inevitably, my mind wanders to what tales my children will someday tell.

Surely, they'll talk about their lack of childhood mementos due to their mother's incessant need to cut clutter.  Or maybe they'll laugh about the time I said, "IF YOU DON'T STOP THAT RIGHT NOW, YOU'LL HAVE TO ORDER PIZZA INSTEAD OF CORN DOGS AT THE RESTAURANT TONIGHT!"  Perhaps they'll one day respond to their kids with "Because I'm magical." every time one of them asks how they know something.  Because that's what their mom always said.

I don't know.  Even though I know I'll get teased (because that's what adult children do to their parents) I do hope that they have more good memories than bad ones.  I hope they remember the piles of books that we read together and projects that we completed side by side and forget the times that I lost my temper or said, "not right now."  I hope they remember that I tell them how much I love them 15 times a day and forget most of my screw ups.

This morning I was eating at McDonalds with Ben (please, God, help them to remember the healthy meals I prepared and forget the times we ate fast food) and he asked me a question about the angel who released Peter from chains.  As I pulled out my phone to look up the passage, the guy sitting in the booth next to us said, "I'm speaking across the street at chapel in an hour or so . . . maybe he'd just like to speak for me."  We kind of laughed and I said, "How about it Bennett?  Do you want to speak in chapel?"

He responded with, "No.  But I will at Somerset Beach Campground.  I only speak at Somerset Beach Campground."  I was unaware of the exclusivity clause in his contract with camp.

Ben immediately followed that up with, "Do your kids watch NFL Rush Zone?"  Chapel speaking invitation rescinded.

I've been thinking ever since then, though, about what my kids will have to say someday.  Whether it's just telling stories to their own kids, sharing with a large group or simply recalling things to themselves . . . what will they have to say?

I hope that they'll be able to say these things:  We were a family who loved each other and was for each other.  Our parents weren't perfect, but loved Jesus and did their best to point us to our loving God in everything that they did.

Heading South

A few weeks ago, I had what some might refer to as a "breakdown."  I was at the end of my rope.  The weather has been insanely brutal.  I'm convinced that it will be July before the mountains of plowed snow will completely melt.  I'm sick of my nostrils freezing shut every time I walk out the door.

In addition, having three kids, growing a fourth, working at a job from home and running a business is hard work.  I think the weather is taking it's toll on my customers, too, because people have just been grumpier to work with, in general.  A few small changes at my real job have created a couple of stressful projects that had me way more worked up than I needed to be.  The uncertainty of this pregnancy through the first half of January (more on that later) left me emotionally drained. 

The effect that being stuck inside all day is having on my kids has also been tough.  They are antsy.  They fight over everything.  They are (sometimes literally) bouncing off the walls by the time we hit bedtime.  If they get along for five minutes at a time, I call that a success.  Jack is having a rough year, so he comes home from school cranky most days and takes his frustrations from school out on his brother and sister (we're working on that).

So, the breakdown . . . a few Sundays ago, on the way home from church, I lost it.  It had been a rough morning full of disobedience and disrespect.  There was yelling.  There was crying.  There were tantrums all around.  And I just couldn't take it anymore.  That night, my husband sat down and started planning out two vacations.  We're actually using our vacation time on something other than "projects around the house" this year!

We had planned to buy new living room furniture this spring.  Our furniture is white (yeah, we bought it before we had kids) and is pretty well trashed.  It could stand to be replaced, but it will have to hold out a little while longer.  Instead, we're using the money to take these two trips.  We can buy furniture next year.  Or after baby #4 has learned that sofa cushions are not, in fact, the same thing as a coloring book.

The first vacation he refers to as my "mental health" vacation.  We leave on Thursday (IN TWO DAYS!) for Florida.  And by "we", I mean Kyle and I.  Just the two of us.  Warm weather.  Grandma and Grandpa Luke are coming to watch the kids and we are taking 5 days to ourselves.  We tried to get away for a single night to celebrate our 10 year anniversary over a year ago, but our kids puked out those plans, so this will make up for that and then some.  It might be another 10 years before we get 5 days to ourselves.

We've never left our kids for this long, and the few times we've left them for two nights with grandparents have usually been so that we can stay home alone and get things done around the house.  I'm a little nervous, but way more excited. Honestly, I'm really afraid that someone will get sick Wednesday night.

Second, we're taking the kids to South Carolina for their spring break.  This is partly out of guilt for taking the Florida trip without them.  More than that, it's because with baby #4 due in August, I don't think we'll be up to traveling to Tennessee this fall like we did last year.  It'll be a little while before we do a family trip again.  I looking forward to getting them into warm weather . . . taking walks, swimming (even if it's indoors), letting them wade in the ocean and just having time as a family. 

We're so excited about about these trips and I'm counting down the days to Florida and the weeks until South Carolina!