Five weeks until we meet the newest model, and physically, things are getting a little tougher for me. I’ve been blessed to avoid bed rest this time around, only enjoying a few days of mandated “on the couch” per doctor’s orders when I overdo it. It’s not taking much to get to that point right now; two days in a row of being out of the house and on my feet all day earlier this week left me sore, walking slow, having a few too many contractions, and nursing a sciatic nerve that wouldn’t let me sleep at night.
So, yeah … not doing that again.
Thankfully, unlike my first pregnancies, where it was me and a handful of toddlers, or a toddler/preschooler combo, I now have the benefit of big kids. Helpful big kids.
The blessing so many people overlook– because it’s just not the norm in our society today– is that having the season of fruitfulness in your family stretch over decades, not months, means that the older people in the family really can, and do, see themselves as responsible, working members of the unit. And as such, they tend to behave like, well … givers instead of takers. They step up. They divide and conquer. They just do it.
In my early pregnancies, the bulk of the heavy lifting when I was confined to bed rest fell on my husband, first and foremost, and a handful of devoted friends who understood the value of getting the kids out of the house for a bit a couple of times each week, or picking up dirty laundry and bringing it back folded, or even leaving a meal on my front porch. It was a tough time, even with all the help, and that stress played a large part in what led us to say, “We’re done!” after our third biological baby was born.
What we never saw coming was the relative ease with which a large family can absorb something as potentially paralyzing as having the glue that is the Momma all but removed from the mix of daily household operations. Each consecutive pregnancy has proven to me that if women truly understood how different it is to carry and bring a new baby into a family with even young teens, the fear factor so often evident in those last precious years of fertility would be far less universal than it seems, and the so-called “bonus baby” would really be celebrated as such rather than jokingly winked at with the “better you than me” mentality.
Yes, there can be a very real whiplash inherent in planning shopping lists for a child’s first foray into living outside the home while juggling the shopping list of newborn needs. (The college girl does not need onesies. The baby will not need an electric tea kettle.) But the price is small indeed when held against the benefits of the day to day.
A few weeks back, it became evident that the evening hours were becoming my hardest part of the day. Upright, often on my feet, from 6 a.m. on, by the time I got around to making dinner, I was uncomfortable and in need of a big glass of water and a my feet up– not another hour of standing at the stove and cooking. Conferring with my husband, we wondered if the older kids would each claim a day of the week and take on the task of making the evening meal in addition to our family’s normal rotation of daily house duties. Not surprisingly, they did. So currently, Mathaus makes dinner on Mondays, Mary Hannah took both Tuesday and Thursday, and Jack opted for Wednesday. That means that I make dinner Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Since I menu plan, each kiddo has been thrilled to make sure his or her faves are on the schedule (I can essentially guarantee you that if you come by on a Monday, you’ll be eating pasta) and I can use my three days to focus on my easiest crockpot meals or, as the weather shifts, on marinating something for the grill.
Adhering to a predictable schedule–essential in parenting children with special needs– has also been easier than expected. Older kids have been happy to be on call for my many appointments, and since they know how things need to roll to maintain equilibrium, if they see Momma having a day of faltering or just needing an extra hand, they are right here to snag that book from the shelf or run up the stairs and get Simon up from his nap. John Mark, not quite 7, gets the fact that Momma can only do so much right now. He’s taken it upon himself to get everyone’s toothbrushes ready in the morning and evening. Birdie has been helping Simon make his bed every morning. (Added bonus: their shared room looks tidier, much to her delight.)
Even laundry (the nemesis of the bed-rest Momma) hasn’t fallen off the radar. Since our laundry room is upstairs and, ummmm … stairs are not currently my best friends, Christopher has taken to throwing a load in during the morning. Instead of sitting, wet, in the washer for the rest of the day, Mary Hannah can easily rotate loads. Mathaus and Birdie are usually called in to fold– unless Mary Hannah feels the need for a long chat with the girls back home. When that happens, she grabs a phone and a pile of laundry, shuts the door, and comes out an hour later much lighter and bearing the gift of freshly sorted clothing. Win!
Sometimes I look around and find myself thinking, “Ugh, if only I could get down and wipe the dust out of the corner of the bathroom floor,” or, “I really need to take everything out of the broom closet and straighten it.” I see small things that are not getting done, and I measure myself against the perception of “clean” I have in my head. Then I realize that yes, while my kids’ toy shelf hasn’t been given a good dump and reorganize in a couple of weeks … this is our version of perfect right now. Our family has pulled together, is working in unity, and has the common goal of glorifying God through serving one another. Isn’t that what we always pray for, as Mommas? Isn’t the spirit of helping more important than the ceiling fan that hasn’t been dusted? I think so. I count myself blessed to see All Together Now! at work in my family in a real, meaningful, and purposeful way.