Let’s be real: the reality of baby #3 has not totally sunk in.
You’d think 15 weeks in, post morning sickness, post exhaustion, post first trimester, I’d be all like, “Woot, woot. We gotta bay-bay cookin’!”
Only sort of. I mean, yes, I totally know that I am pregnant.
And I understand that being pregnant often results in a baby.
The part I’m having trouble with is imagining what our life will look like with baby #3.
Perhaps I should’ve had a more solid vision of life with baby #3 before we began this process of getting pregnant.
Truthfully, I have a vision of life with child #3 – although I glossed over infancy and toddlerhood in my vision. I love having two sisters and a brother. I love the gatherings we have when we get together and laugh and giggle and talk and argue and laugh some more. We are siblings and friends.
The twins have a unique and wonderful bond with each other because they have never known even a minute of existence without the other. Just tonight, we were driving home and Ellie was in a fowl mood. Something about apple pies and Christmas trees really honked her off. Ellie was muttering and sobbing in her car seat for about five minutes when Carrie yelled at her. Not in an angry, “What the heck?” kind of way, but in a mocking “this is how dumb you sound” kind of way. It worked. Ellie found Carrie to be hilarious. The next ten minutes of our ride was still filled with screaming, but mixed with fits of giggles as they made each other laugh.
It was the best.
It was why people have twins and siblings for their children.
When I think of this third child, I think of road trips and family vacations and Frank tossing the kids into the pool. I think of three pairs of eyes peeking over the edge of our bed on Christmas morning, pleading with us to let them open their gifts from Santa.
I think of the twins teaching this child new things and this child being a joy to them. And a pain. And an annoyance.
The good and the bad… Family.
When we were in the midst of this whole having babies business the first time, I could barely dare to dream that we’d have a family – much less dream of a family of five.
When we decided to try to have a third baby, it seemed like less of a choice and more of a prayer that we tossed heavenward. And then we wondered. And we hoped.
And God, being the funny and merciful One that He is, said, “Yes.”
More hope. More prayer.
Last night was an outright debacle. Nothing went as planned – not even close. After a “quick” stop by Walgreens for a prescription turned into a 30 minute fiasco and I brought my sobbing children into the house a full hour after bedtime, I felt totally outnumbered. I’d put one in bed, the other one would get out. Finally, I had them both in bed and went on a quest for Jingle the Husky Pup. I returned to mass chaos.
Carrie was sitting up in bed, crying and staring at Ellie. Ellie was screaming and her nose was bleeding on EVERY THING. I carried her to the bathroom and stopped the bleeding, cleaned her up, stripped her bed, made her bed, put her back into her bed and then stood in the middle of their room. They looked at me and I looked at them.
And it felt like together we all thought, “So, Mom, what happens when you have a third infant in a carrier that needs a bath and a diaper and dinner and pajamas and bed? What about when that happens?”
I doubt I would’ve made all of the same choices that got me to the point of utter meltdown, but I also know that I can’t plan for everything.
There will come a point where a similar scenario plays out.
I’m glad I have six more months to get my “poop in a group” because right now, I am so not ready.