We're Surrounded
I recently completed growing our fourth child. Sounds weird, I know, but I make no apologies. Sharing your body with a growing human who is sucking the life out of you is exactly as weird as it sounds. Many women paint it to be "such a magical time," a beautiful miracle, every moment of which should be cherished. And there certainly is truth in that view. However, there are also parts that are creepy and gross, and more like a science fiction thriller than a fairy tale.
I am pretty proud of my ability to grow a person, though. Sometimes when a person asks me what I do for a living and I'm feeling extra defensive about working 160 hours a week without getting paid, I give them some vague answer about being in manufacturing, just hoping they will ask me what it is I manufacture.
I was prepared this time around to start getting many more weird looks and rude comments, "Four?! Why would you want four? Don't you know everyone else in the country stops after 2 or 3?" But it really hasn't been that way. It actually seems like there was this great big relief of tension. People have been suspicious of us for years, and now they know, we really are nuts. As soon as people realize you actually are nuts instead of always wondering, they become much more relaxed, I think.
Now to give credit to all the people who thought four was a lot of kids... it is. Bringing our fourth child home from the hospital was a much more overwhelming experience than we anticipated. And it was compounded by the fact that our whole family was fighting off a nasty infection, and sick kids needed to be cared for in a separate location from our new little one. And for a few days, Alex and I were inclined to sit and stare at whatever wall was in front of us, commenting aside to each other, "I just can't stand all the noise." And, "I think if another kid sneezes on the baby I will send them out to live in the barn."
When I was younger and would tell people my plans (or more accurately, my husband's plans that I took credit for), they would still give me the benefit of the doubt. They didn't believe I was really bonkers; they thought I was innocently deceived and so they tried to enlighten me and show me how foolish I was. Now that I've actually moved out to a farm, bought livestock, planted a garden bigger than my house, and birthed my fourth child, people have stopped treating me like I'm crazy. In fact, in my own weird way, I seem to have become cool. Because people can come hang out at our petting zoo, see strange birds they don't know the names of, eat food that was picked hours ago, and enjoy the smells and sounds a breeze makes when it blows through trees, far away from roads, structures, trash and machinery.
It really is a beautiful life. Because that is exactly what I am surrounded by, life. Life growing inside me and around me, flowers, trees, vines, fruits, vegetables, children running and falling down giggling, animals making some goofy and some really gloriously musical sounds, and a mesmerizing little baby boy whose beautiful presence inspires people to sit and quietly watch him sleep. It is gorgeous and pure and free and peaceful. I love my life. It is good to be crazy... and I have limes growing in my house; if that isn't cool, I don't know what is.
I am pretty proud of my ability to grow a person, though. Sometimes when a person asks me what I do for a living and I'm feeling extra defensive about working 160 hours a week without getting paid, I give them some vague answer about being in manufacturing, just hoping they will ask me what it is I manufacture.
I was prepared this time around to start getting many more weird looks and rude comments, "Four?! Why would you want four? Don't you know everyone else in the country stops after 2 or 3?" But it really hasn't been that way. It actually seems like there was this great big relief of tension. People have been suspicious of us for years, and now they know, we really are nuts. As soon as people realize you actually are nuts instead of always wondering, they become much more relaxed, I think.
Now to give credit to all the people who thought four was a lot of kids... it is. Bringing our fourth child home from the hospital was a much more overwhelming experience than we anticipated. And it was compounded by the fact that our whole family was fighting off a nasty infection, and sick kids needed to be cared for in a separate location from our new little one. And for a few days, Alex and I were inclined to sit and stare at whatever wall was in front of us, commenting aside to each other, "I just can't stand all the noise." And, "I think if another kid sneezes on the baby I will send them out to live in the barn."
When I was younger and would tell people my plans (or more accurately, my husband's plans that I took credit for), they would still give me the benefit of the doubt. They didn't believe I was really bonkers; they thought I was innocently deceived and so they tried to enlighten me and show me how foolish I was. Now that I've actually moved out to a farm, bought livestock, planted a garden bigger than my house, and birthed my fourth child, people have stopped treating me like I'm crazy. In fact, in my own weird way, I seem to have become cool. Because people can come hang out at our petting zoo, see strange birds they don't know the names of, eat food that was picked hours ago, and enjoy the smells and sounds a breeze makes when it blows through trees, far away from roads, structures, trash and machinery.
It really is a beautiful life. Because that is exactly what I am surrounded by, life. Life growing inside me and around me, flowers, trees, vines, fruits, vegetables, children running and falling down giggling, animals making some goofy and some really gloriously musical sounds, and a mesmerizing little baby boy whose beautiful presence inspires people to sit and quietly watch him sleep. It is gorgeous and pure and free and peaceful. I love my life. It is good to be crazy... and I have limes growing in my house; if that isn't cool, I don't know what is.
