a different kind of marathon

Some people train for and run marathons.*  I gave birth (the fourth time around) drug-free.

It was a decision I came to after much prayer, preparation, and experience with medicated births.  I am, in a way, reticent to bring it up, but compelled to do so today, the raven-haired lass's half birthday, both to preserve my memory of it and to serve as an encouragement to other mothers.

By divulging this, I'm not looking for adulation or trying to make any mother who gave birth medicated feel like she worked any less than I did to bring her child(ren) into the world.  I am not.  It's not meant to be a publicity maneuver.   I've thought about posting this story on each month-iversary since the raven-haired lass was born, but I'm still not sure I have the chutzpah to do it.   But here goes...

When I learned our fourth child was on the way, I thought long and hard about his or her birth and how I wanted it to transpire.  The fourth time around, I did *not* want an epidural with its attendant medical interventions and after-effects.  That was the jumping-off point for me reading The Birth Book by Dr. William Sears and his wife Martha, a nurse, and Dr. Robert Bradley's Husband-Coached Childbirth (he being the namesake of the Bradley Birth method), as well as reading accounts online of and conversing in real life with women who'd given birth drug-free.  I thought through the entire labor process, reconciling myself with the idea of "pain with a purpose," an idea that the pain of childbirth has a very real and noble purpose, *and* that it does have an end.   

I still hadn't decided to commit to a drug-free childbirth, however, because I just wasn't convinced I could handle it.  Of course I knew women had done so for the entire course of history, but I wasn't confident I was up to the mental and physical challenge.

As the day of my due date approached and then passed, the prospect of induction became more and more probable.  I knew I would likely not be up to the challenge of an induced labor without pain relief (as I reasoned here), so I'd already arranged to have an epidural if I needed it but could forego it as well at my discretion.

The night before I was scheduled to be induced, the contractions I'd been having for over a week finally organized into a consistent, progressive fashion.  By the time my beloved and I arrived at the hospital for our induction appointment, I was far enough along on my own to do without interventions.  I decided then to go for the drug-free birth.

I took it one contraction at a time.  During each one, I'd only allow myself to think about breathing in and out.  As the contractions each built in intensity, I focused on relaxing everything except that which was contracting, and visualized the contraction building like a wave, cresting, then dissipating.  I repeated to myself something I'd read in reference to the girl I knew undergoing treatment for a malignant brain tumor whose motto for the physical fitness classes she taught was "I can do anything for one minute." That's about the length of each contraction -- a minute or so.  Then I'd have a few minutes to regroup before the next one.  I prayed for God's mercy upon the pain I was experiencing, and tried to offer it to him for the sake of my unborn child.  My beloved was with me as I labored both at home and in the hospital.

I did reach a point, as I'd read I likely would, when I'd had enough.  I knew that meant it was nearly over, and I prayed even more fervently for mercy and a speedy (yet safe) delivery.  There were moments when I felt I was about to lose my cool, but with the help of my beloved, my obstetrician, and the nurses gathered 'round, I hung in there.

As soon as the lass made her entrance, it was just as I'd read and heard it would be.  The pain was gone.  In its place was jubilation.  I was so thrilled to meet our lass, to check her out from tip to toe.  I felt a rush of endorphins (though I was worn out!), and, more so than when I'd been medicated, I was able to soak up everything happening around me.  I bonded with the lass instantly, and my physical recovery was overall much speedier than from those births for which I'd had epidurals.  I was up and around not too long after she was born.

Every birth is a miracle -- and a tremendous accomplishment for the mother who brings to birth the child she has carried in her womb for ordinarily somewhere in the vicinity of 40 weeks.  Whatever the circumstances surrounding the birth of a child are, each child is a gift from God; each mother is given the grace of God to be that child's mother and bring it to birth; and each child is his or her own unique person to be treasured and respected as one of God's own children.

Having said all that, when an expectant mother considers the impending and inevitable birth of her child, she has a lot to think about and many choices to make as to how she wishes the miraculous event to transpire.  Babies will come on their own terms, so the plans a mother makes may very well go out the window should medical necessity warrant, but she should still make a plan for her baby's birth and prepare herself for it to both go according to plan or not.

Deciding to deliver our raven-haired lass drug-free was a long time coming for me.  I wasn't mentally prepared to undertake such a challenge until this pregnancy.  I know it was God's grace that provided the "mental toughness" (as my dad calls it) to see me through the experience.

Our darling clementine has been a jolly, peaceful little lass from the beginning, and I can't help but wonder if part of that is owing to the manner in which she made her entrance into this world.

Mothers are designed to bring their babies to birth naturally.  There are many factors influencing each delivery, and each woman is different.  I pray each expectant mother receives the attentive and skilled pre-natal care she and her unborn baby deserve.  May each pair be surrounded by the love and care of family, friends, and care givers, enabling them to bring about safe, healthy deliveries each and every time, in whatever setting and manner deemed best for that particular mother and child.

*As for running marathons -- not me, no thank you.  I could never do that.

familiar territory

I come from a long line of slow cookers.  Our babies pay nary a moment's notice to that day circled on the calendar as the "expected date of delivery".  They couldn't care less about that.  The lads both came nine days after that day, and the lass six.  My Grannie's babies were nine days late (except Aunt Robin, who came nine days early), my mom was "late", and I myself was a few *weeks* tardy (sorry, Mama).

Today I am five days "overdue".

I've been down this road before.  I know the people in this neighborhood, so to speak.  Being as familiar as I am with being past the 40 week mark, I am both (more than) ready to meet this fourth baby and reconciled to that meeting happening later rather than sooner.  I am not one to resort to induction.  I've been induced, and I've gone into labor on my own.  I'd *much* rather go the latter route.  It makes for a much better experience for both mama and baby, since it's more in keeping with the body's natural rhythm and (for me, anyway) far more manageable, both mentally and physically.  With an induction, Pitocin (the drug administered to bring on contractions) is in charge.  In spontaneous labor, the mama is.

"Spontaneous" is probably not a word my loved ones would use to describe me. 

This is why I was so surprised to go into labor on my own with the lass after having the lads by (reluctant) way of Pitocin (used to "augment" labor with the elder lad and induce it with the younger).  After the vastly different, far better experience that third labor was, I've been committed to doing what I can to replicate it this fourth time and avoid induction.

This is not to say I will refuse induction warranted by medical necessity.  I'm just not in a hurry to schedule one to "get it over with," knowing as I do the difference in the journeys and preferring the more natural one.   Fortunately, my OB is of similar mind in this regard, which is one of the reasons I like her. 

So while there is no one who is more anxious ready to see Quattro face to face than I am, I will take the remaining time before that moment to rest, pray, and prepare to care for another soul.

this is not that post

Since my loved ones are awaiting baby news with great anticipation, I open nearly every phone conversation I initiate with something like, "Hi ... it's Bonnie.  This is not *that* call."

overdue

Things to do when you're overdue*:

• pray 
• laundry
• canvas the entire expanse of local mall, both floors, with three children and their grandmother; be sure to include a fun lunch
• lie down and rest -- even if the bambini don't -- so long as the grandmother is still up for wrangling them
• snuggle with said three bambini
• pray
• sip a favorite beverage (even if it is hotter than Hades outside) after the bambini zonk out in the car on the way home after traipsing all over the mall but not resting at siesta time
• laundry
• read books with the bambini
• feather the nest for loved ones arriving to help
• rearrange the kitchen counter top accessories
• pray
• build things with the bambini
• brush up on newborn care and nursing fundamentals
• laundry
• get a pedicure, massage, chiropractic adjustment, or any combination thereof
• bake something with the bambini
• pray
• laundry

*Really, the due date is more of a general "expected" date and is just one day in a window of a few weeks when the baby is "due" .  Every person and pregnancy is different.  Just goes to show: babies come in God's time. 

cheesy goodness

This is Quattro's "due date," but I'm not going there.  Instead, I'm waxing nostalgic about true comfort food from my childhood: cheese grits.  I consider it an appropriate way to mark the day, as many times these have been the only thing that sounded even remotely appealing to this pregnant mama green around the gills (at least in previous pregnancies).

steady, ace.

In days of yore when gift-giving time would be coming up (say Christmas or my birthday), and I would notify those in positions of ability to procure that which I had on my wish list (say my parents), I had what I'm sure was an annoying tendency to get a little mopey and fretful that I would not receive the requested gift when the time for gift-opening at long last arrived.

Charming, no?

And yet, they still love me.  And most of the time, I did receive what I was pining for, silly girl.
Thanks, Mom and Dad, for your forbearance and unfailing generosity.

Here we are at the 40 week mark of this pregnancy, and wouldn't you know? I have that same feeling.  Like it's never going get here -- Quattro's birthday, in this case.  

But it will.  And in the end we will have one of the greatest gifts we could ever receive -- temporarily entrusted to us, of course, as Quattro is not ours to keep but rather to care for and prepare to one day return to God.

As my dad would often have to tell me, so now I tell myself:
Steady, Ace.

ready and waiting

We're at that point now where Quattro could come at any time, but we have no way of knowing when that will be.  Thus, we carry on as though each day is "normal" (whatever that is), ever knowing that things could change just like that.

This is a really unsettling stressful uncomfortable place to be in.

We make plans (and contingency plans), get things ready, carry on as ever, and try to keep in proper perspective this life-changing event that could happen tonight, tomorrow -- or next week, or even the following (especially my track record for tardiness).

Quattro will come in God's time.  I pray for the grace to trust Him (notice I didn't say patience), and the wherewithal to attend to things right here right now.

nesting: family-style

While we wait on the stork to bring Quattro, the whole family is in on this nesting business.  Yesterday the lads helped* my beloved clean up the Bambini Ride and rearrange the car seats to make room for a fourth one.  Both lads are now in the "way back."  Mama is hopeful there will be a minimum of fisticuffs. 

*by "helped", I mean they unearthed the younger lad's long-missing favorite ball cap, helped vacuum up a school of Goldfish crackers, wiped down seats scuffed with footprints, then climbed into the front and pretended to be driving their firetruck.  This was followed by some construction with PVC pipe outside the vehicle which soon devolved into whacking things.

The washer is on overdrive, laundering teensy tiny (or "tinsy", as the elder lad used to say when he was about the lass's age) baby clothes, blankets, bedding for the helping hands who will be staying with us once Quattro comes home, and car seat covers (in addition to the usual queue).  The current incarnation of our drinkable yogurt recipe is posted prominently on the fridge for hasty refills.  We're baking things in big batches to "feed the freezer" -- pancakes, cookies, muffins...

The recently-unearthed infant carrier is drawing lots of attention.  The lads have each tested to see if they can fit in it (just barely) and laugh at the thought of themselves small enough to have been strapped in.  The lass says "baby! baby!" and tucks her baby doll safely inside.

I'm wondering if Quattro will have dark hair like my beloved's, sea glass-colored eyes like the elder lad's, or his or her own unique combination of features and coloring.  And speaking of "his" versus "her", will Quattro even the gender score in this household or tip the scales even further? 

We're so looking forward to meeting you, Quattro.  We love you already.

wait a minute

It's been raining a lot here lately.  By this time of year, such rain is a bit unseasonable, but we'll take it.    Sometimes the rain comes down in a deluge, as the heavens open and the thunder rolls.  I keep thinking the barometric pressure might signal Quattro's arrival, but so far Quattro is content to ride out to the storms in utero.

Severe weather season may have passed, but figurative storms and flash floods still pop up around here on what seems like a near daily basis to this enormous/hormonal/preoccupied-about-Quattro's-imminent-birth mama.  Such a mix for Mama probably contributes to the atmosphere that lends itself to these types of disturbances.  Whether it's one of the bambini or all of them, when they get upset and loud about it, the direction of the course of events depends largely on *my* response -- or lack there-of.  Mine is the only response I can truly control, anyway.  It's hugely important for me to do so for my sake as well as theirs, and to model healthy emotional management.

If I've learned anything from the severe storms that come every spring to our part of the country, it's that they hardly ever last very long.  There might be a successive string of them, one after another, each intense and scary and loud, but rarely does one storm have the energy necessary to sustain a prolonged fury.

This seems to be true for bambini storms as well *if* Mama can keep her wits about her and be prudently responsive to the situation.  That might mean letting the storm pass on its own (ascertaining everyone's safety, of course), or by actively seeking out a solution with the one (or several) who are raging.

I would rather quell the tempests before they break, but this doesn't always work out.   While my initial reaction might be to jump in and squelch the outburst, usually this only worsens things.  For me and us, a more reserved response seems more effective in both the long and short runs. 

Riding these emotional roller coasters takes a lot out of me, but it comes with the territory.  To paraphrase Will Rogers, if you don't like the weather...

wait a minute.

skirting the issue

There's nothing like a pretty skirt to perk up my tired maternity wardrobe *and* make weathering the beastly heat a little more feasible.  I've amassed enough lightweight skirts with either smocked waists or drawstrings that aren't even "maternity clothes" to wear nearly every day (especially given our laundry schedule).

This suits my girly-girl tendencies quite nicely, as I like to look my best.  Happily, the skirts are long, so they're modest while still allowing me to get down on the floor with the bambini (though they don't make the actual getting up and down any easier) or crouch to their heights when necessary.  *And* there's far less hiking up of the waistline to be done than on the wretched elastic-waist maternity pants I have.

In all, this skirt idea is one of the best I've hit upon in a while.  I'm as comfy as a mega-pregnant mama in the final weeks of pregnancy can be, and wearing something so pretty and feminine perks up the sense of self in a very welcome way.

grace to go on

So often now I struggle with the sheer physical demands upon me, carrying a near full-term baby within me and often schlepping a 20+ pound toddler.  I try to meet the lass's repeated and insistent requests to "hold me" as much as I can, as well as those of the younger lad, who has been asking me hold him a lot too.  I can't really carry him very far, but I do try to oblige his need for closeness by sitting and reading with him or something along those lines.  The elder lad now sets up his car mat and cars on the dining room table (such as it is -- two folding tables pushed together to form a near square) so I can sit and play more easily with him.  He doesn't ask me to carry him, but when I sit down next to him to read or watch TV, he lays his head on my shoulder and snuggles close. It seems they all sense Quattro's imminent arrival and are bulking up on the "mama lovin'".

Sometimes I feel so weak under the literal and figurative weight.  This frustrates me, and I am inclined to be irritated about it.  While I make it a point never to pray for patience (as the only way one develops patience is by practice -- know what I'm sayin'? -- and I already get a lot of that), I *do* pray -- a lot -- for wisdom, fortitude, understanding, compassion, and help in guarding against irritability.

Here's the amazing thing: just when I doubt if I will pass this endurance test, the grace to go on is there.  Just when everyone starts to melt down (including me), I am given the means to filter through any whining or fussing and the vision to see the various needs that are presenting themselves.  If such fussing is coming from one of the bambini, I ask for the need to be stated simply and respectfully (and in an age-appropriate manner) and then promptly meet the need as best I can.  If it's coming from me, I try to identify its cause and address that so I can get back to attending to everything else.  While it doesn't always go quite this well, it has been happening enough for me to recognize what is actually at work here (and it's not my doing):

Grace (big G).

My fervent and frequent prayer is for the Grace to do right by these children, my beloved, and all the people in my midst.  I'm not able to do that all on my own.  I can sense the prayers being offered for me and us, and I know they are heard -- and answered.

Thank you for yours.

on 3

I had to renew my driver's license today. For mega-pregnant mamas melting in the 100 degree heat, there should be some sort of sticker or endorsement visible to everyone who will have reason to see the license that speaks to this "delicate condition" as an explanation for the puffy face and unfortunate timing for renewal of the license.

On the bright side, though, I had a cute date to the tag agency in the person of my three-year-old younger lad (the other two bambini were cavorting in the shaded sandbox at my beloved's parents' house), *and* thanks to the Edward Ardizzone books, I heard on more than one occasion today in response to a request I made, "aye, aye, Cap'm."

nesting: the fourth time around

The two-year anniversary of our moving to this house happens to coincide with Quattro's expected arrival window in late July.  When we moved in around the beginning of August, I was about halfway through my pregnancy with the lass.  I wasn't really in a position to be schlepping boxes around, and most of the grunt work was handled by my beloved and other family members (with our deepest gratitude).

Being as we are in the "life with young children" mode, our decorating scheme could easily be described as, um, sparse, and we still have lots of unfurnished space. It actually works out well for children moving at full tilt.  While I would love to hang pictures and adorn our living space, I consider these bambini the most interesting and compelling artwork we could behold and have fewer worries about things getting broken or banged up.   

Having said that, there are some things around here that I want to get done before Quattro arrives -- things that might qualify as "nesting", but aren't as interesting or creative as decorating a room.  It's more like culling through clutter, trying to deal with things that have accumulated, making room for the next chapter of babyhood by putting away or getting rid of things that aren't being used, and addressing such things as school supplies and uniforms that will be needed shortly after Quattro's arrival.  It's not the cute side of nesting -- but it's necessary.  I figure if I do a little bit each day (or as I can), I'll call that progress...

living up to the compliment (trying to, anyway)

"You're my best mama ever," my affectionate three-year-old has been telling me these past few days.

As much as I love hearing that and as good as it makes me feel, I'm not so sure I've earned such a compliment.  Into my third trimester now, I'm big, hot, tired, and simply shorter on valuable resources like patience, creativity, and humor that help us navigate our days together.

I pray to be that mama for him and his siblings, today and every day.

generic response

A testament to the absentmindedness of my pregnant mama brain which shows itself at the most inopportune times: realizing that our inventory of baby-strength pain relievers such as Tylenol and Motrin were involved in the recent recall, I asked our pediatrician at the lass's check-up earlier in the week what to do.

"Just get generic," she said.  "They're not made by the same company."

Duh.  Bonnie.  Really.

We use generic products whenever possible from medications to pantry goods (including the bambini's allergy medicine; the name brand is part of the aforementioned recall) -- including the adult-strength versions of these medications.  Why didn't I think of this with regard to the pain relievers we hardly ever resort to using but want to have on hand just in case?

I have no idea.  I suspect it may have something to do with my quest to find products that are dye-free, and having found them only in the brand name medicines at the time I was shopping.  Fortunately, I did find some dye-free generic alternatives on the post-pediatrician-visit shopping trip to restock the medicine cabinet.

Still, why I didn't think of the whole generic alternative remains shrouded in mystery.  Maybe it's owing to a lack of coffee or chocolate in my system -- or both. 

apothecary shop

Allergy season is really giving us -- like so many others -- some trouble around here.  To show for it, we have a veritable apothecary of over-the-counter and prescription medicines, supplements like probiotics to help offset the tummy-upsetting effects of antibiotics, and vitamins.  One lad is on antibiotics to treat an ear infection that resulted from his allergy flare up, the other lad has an antibiotic eye drop to clear up an infection in his eye that seems to have developed from his allergies, and all three bambini now take an over-the-counter allergy remedy each night before bed.  This is in addition to the vitamins they take to maintain general health.

To keep all this straight, I've made a list of what each child is taking, how frequently, how much, and for how long, and we make tick marks on either the bottle of antibiotics or a piece of paper each time prescriptions are dispensed.  The organizer in me wants to make a chart for a more visually-enhanced experience.  I wonder if that might be overdoing it.  Probably not.

Having been through two stints of allergy shots myself and experiencing great improvement in my seasonal allergy suffering, I am no stranger to the allergy scene.  The shots helped, though, and I have been off allergy medication entirely for several years.  We live in one of the "allergy capitals" of the country, and this year is one of the worst seasons by way of pollen counts and their effects on allergies. Fresh off antibiotics myself to clear up a sinus infection, now I've got a similar eye ailment affecting the younger lad.  My beloved is also feeling the effects of the proliferation of allergens.

Whenever possible, we try to heal ailments with natural remedies such as buckwheat honey for coughs (at our pediatrician's recommendation), nasal saline rinses for clearing sinuses (though I haven't brought myself to trying a neti pot, which has garnered a lot of media attention this year), and homeopathic remedies.  We try to avoid using antibiotics unless absolutely necessary (but will when warranted).  Ever the obsessive label reader, when we must resort to over-the-counter medications, I try to find the ones that are dye-free and contain the fewest preservatives and ancillary (or "inactive") ingredients.  Side effects are something we take into consideration when deciding whether to start a new medication.

The worst part for me is seeing the bambini suffering, like last night when the younger lad coughed so hard he threw up, or when we're having to administer medication that is unpleasant for them to receive (like his eye drops -- how he loathes them).  My heart goes out to those people and families who face constant and far greater suffering than we do.   We are very grateful for our overall good health and place a premium on nourishing ourselves well to maintain it. 

Here in our little home pharmacy, we hope to dispense with the dispensing of medications as soon as the allergen heyday for such things as tree pollens and grasses tapers off.  Until then, I'm going to be monitoring our supply of tissue and tinkering with my chart to get it just so.  I'll probably get it that way just when the need for it is ending.  And that will be fine by me...

instant breakfast

I'm giving this smoothie a go in the hopes of fending off the low-blood-sugar-induced dizzies to which I seem especially prone during pregnancy.  Loaded with protein and sweetened with agave nectar (which does not cause big spikes in blood sugar levels), let's hope it does the trick.  I'm taking it with me on our morning jaunt to preschool and wherever else...

unsolicited advice

We are expecting our fourth child sometime in mid- to late July.  Our elder lad thinks it will be another sister, but my father-in-law thinks it's a boy.  We shall see.  We have been surprised by the gender of each of our three children in the delivery room and anticipate another surprise.  After feeling *certain* that my second lad was in fact a girl the entire time I was gestating him, I think my intuition has been disabled.  I have no idea which gender our newest babe is.

Pregnant mamas are prime targets for unsolicited advice (though admittedly I haven't attracted quite so much this fourth time around).   Three children born within three and a half years of each other (the fourth is due about a month after our elder lad's fifth birthday) mean that I have gleaned some insights into how to manage the roller coaster of tummy troubles that I ridden with each pregnancy.  If these insights can be of any benefit to anyone else, this post will have served its purpose.

** Remember: I'm a pianist -- not a doctor -- so this is all based on what I've read and what I've experienced personally in this particular season of my mothering journey. **

I struggle with "morning" (more like all-day) sickness throughout each pregnancy.  My bambini in utero didn't seem to notice us having passed the first trimester mark; I was sick pretty much most of the time for the first three, and I have a prescription nausea drug that I'm taking now (as I have for two of the previous three pregnancies) that takes the edge off and helps me maintain some functionality.

I've read about (and experienced) links between "morning" sickness and blood sugar as well as morning sickness serving to dissuade pregnant mamas from eating foods that are allergenic or otherwise potentially harmful.  But when one has been spending not quality but quantity time with the commode and just can't seem to make the room stop spinning, what is there to do?

Being proactive goes a long way.  The main thing for me is to always have something in my stomach.  If I get hungry, I often get sick.  Eating is often the last thing I feel like doing when I'm nauseated, but ironically, sometimes it's what helps turn the tide, a little bit at a time.

For me, protein is very important.  Favorites of mine have included yogurt, cottage cheese, eggs (hardboiled or scrambled), other kinds of cheese, milk, nuts, beef, etc.  It's very important for me to moderate my intake of carbohydrates (even like cereals and bread) and try to have protein along with any carbs I'm eating.  Along those lines, fruits like apples and grapes treat me better than sugary things. And the adage to eat what sounds good often holds true for me, with the premise that the body craves what it needs.  When the cravings are for greasy, fried, sugary, or otherwise not-so-healthy things, I try to temper them by having a little but not too much. 

French toast, whole wheat pancakes with cinnamon for blood sugar stability, and breakfast casserole work well for me as breakfast (or anytime).  Some favorite homemade snacks of mine include chocolate peanut butter granola and breakfast cookies. 

I've always been inclined toward motion sickness, and ginger helps quell the nausea (except when I'm pregnant, when oddly it isn't as effective; it might be different for other women, though).  I take it in capsule form.  I find it at the health food store, but pharmacies may have it over the counter.  I've also read that B vitamins, especially B6 (I think -- remember what I said about not being a doctor) can be very helpful with nausea.  There are also these things called "sea bands" that I tried when I was pregnant with our elder lad.  I hadn't quite figured out the whole carb/nausea link then, though, and they weren't as helpful for me as I hear they are for other women.

When nausea gives way to heartburn, I've found papaya enzyme tablets *very* helpful, even more so that Tums.  Similarly, pineapple -- especially fresh, but canned is OK too -- helps with digestion.  Sounds weird, I know, but a nutritionist told me that.  The acids in the fruits help break down the food.  And lying on my left side sometimes helps when my tummy is upset.  I read somewhere that the stomach drains on the left side, so lying that way can help it do its thing.  (Sometimes I even try this with my newborns if they seem to be reflux-y or experiencing tummy troubles of other stripes.)

Riding the pregnancy sickness wave can be exhausting, but keeping things in perspective is key to survival.  One mama friend once told me that she was sick throughout several healthy pregnancies, but not during the one she ended up sadly miscarrying.  Whatever physical illness and discomfort we go through gestating these children God entrusts to us is, hopefully, temporary, relieved soon after delivery.  I know several mamas who have struggled with the sickness and physical unpleasantries of pregnancy who would be quick to say that the children they have since birthed have been worth all the toil.

I'm one of those mamas.

getaway

From the time I was a wee little lass, I traveled a lot -- mainly to Chicago to visit my family there, but to a few other places as well.  It was just my mom, dad, and me until my sister was born the spring before I turned 15.  My dad and I made many driving trips to Chicago and back when my grandfather was ill; I was five when he died.

I traveled to Chicago every chance I got: school breaks, summer vacations, anytime.  Being a part of the "doings" (as Grannie would say) was so fun for me -- even if we were just hanging out at her lake cottage, playing games or reading or swimming or whatever.  There didn't have to be anything big going on, even though trips into downtown Chicago and special events were always exciting.  Being together was the best part.

We have just returned from a two-day getaway to my parents' house about an hour from ours.  We all had such a great time.  It was very much like the happy times spent with my extended Chicago family, with kids and adults hanging out playing together, lots of food (including a decadent triple chocolate mousse cake my sister made for New Year's Eve), conversation, and fun.   We were sad to leave, but happy to return home. 

The logistics of traveling with three children under five (and soon to be four children five and under, as we are expecting a new arrival in mid- to late July) are ... formidable.  I can count on one hand the number of trips we've taken as a family.   For one thing, I've been pretty sick throughout each pregnancy, and the prospect of traveling like that has been simply unsavory.  Then there is the simple reality of traveling itself being stressful (nowadays, anyway), let alone with children who don't understand and therefore might resist the confines that are part of the territory.  This means, though, that I haven't been back to Chicago in a while (except a couple of short trips in the past five years), and I miss seeing my family there. Thankfully, most of them have traveled here at least once or twice in the same time period for the baptisms of our bambini or other special family events.

There is great value in learning flexibility and adaptability, and travel is one way of doing so.  I hope to help our children acquire these tools over time and through positive experiences such as the one we've just had.

I am most grateful for the comfortable home with which we are blessed.  It is our primary place of being.  Someday all too soon we might be running hither and yon, so for now I'm trying to keep myself squarely in the moment, relishing the time I have with these precious people all in one place.  These days are numbered.

Still, it was nice to get away.  The best part was simply being with our loved ones.  It has been refreshing, restorative, and energizing for the year to come -- one I pray will be filled with grace, peace, and joy for all of us, both at home and far-flung.