Mother's Day

As a mother, I experience the rawest of emotions.

I struggle and ache and worry and hurt. 

I am frustrated and exasperated and exhausted and harrowed.

I have a tattered body and frazzled mind and tired spirit.

But because I am a mother, I also experience moments deep, deep love that make it all worth it.

I gathered up the boys a week before Mother's Day to attempt a shot of all four of them to send to the grandmas. I was grateful for one decent shot since most of them looked like this:

Could they be any less enthused?

The boys sure make me work for those smiles.

Mother's Day weekend started out like many weekends do; taking a trip to the beach.

It was cool and overcast and I forgot the sand toys, but the boys had no problem finding entertainment with logs and sticks. 

Mother's Day was filled with handmade cards and meals from my boys and church messages expressing appreciation for mothers. We topped off the evening with a walk around the neighborhood and stopped at our favorite lemon grove where the lemons are free for the taking.

I only got one (blurry) shot with only one of my little ones. 

If I'm being honest, Mother's Day is a bittersweet holiday for me. I always expect to have only joy as I appreciate the great gift it is to be a mother and recognize all of the mothers who influence my life and the lives of my children. It should be a relief to have a break from cleaning up messes I didn't make and cooking for little people who don't appreciate the effort. And who doesn't love sweet hugs and phone calls and presentations of homemade gifts? Especially when my seven year old proclaims, "She is the best mom I had in my whole life!"

I feel guilty that all of those things aren't enough to make this day a welcomed celebration. Although Mother's Day is always filled with feelings of love and recognition and gratitude, it comes as a surprise to me each year that feelings of mourning also creep up. I can't help but look around at other mothers and children and feel the unwelcome intrusion of jealousy that comes with comparison. It seems as if all of my inadequacies as a mother are brought to the surface as I am reminded of all of the areas where I am falling short.

My mom happened to be in town over the weekend and we ran out to a few stores late on Friday night after getting the boys to bed. We were laughing deliriously about the scavenger hunt we were on to find a few items. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard while trying to keep my composure in the checkout lane. The guy in line behind us overheard our conversations throughout the store and asked us if we located everything on our scavenger hunt. That made us laugh even harder. The evening was hilarious and memorable, but it was also a stark reminder of the mother/daughter relationship that I will never pass on.

And so, Mother's Day for me means joy, but it also means tears. Just keeping it real.

My Arms Will Never Hold Enough Babies

I'm sure I sound like a broken record with all of my recent gushing about the newborn baby phase.

But here's the thing. I think most moms have a stage of motherhood that really clicks for them. Some can't get enough of preschoolers. Others adore the elementary years. And some are all about the teenage years. For me, I hit my stride as a mother when I have a newborn baby in my realm.

I heard a quote a while back by a mom who'd had a big career outside her home while also mothering several children. In an interview, she was asked whether she thought she was able to give her children the attention they needed while giving her career what was required. Her answer was something like this: "My kids turned out great. They're fabulous people. I think they got everything they needed from me. But looking back, I feel like I'm the one who missed out. I don't think I got everything I needed out of motherhood."

I don't want to look back and feel that way. Even though motherhood is primarily about sacrifice and serving, it would be a shame if nothing was received in return. And for me, I feel like I get the most out of motherhood when I have a tiny newborn curled up in a ball on my shoulder.

I've held each newborn we've brought home a little longer than the last. I've appreciated getting up in the middle of the night a little more. I've let go of the guilt that I should be getting other things done besides snuggling my babies.

I am very protective of my time with my newborns. With Finn, I've allowed myself to slow down and soak him in with all my might. It's so unlike me to let go of the control of the cleanliness of my home or the need to check off as much as possible from my to-do list. But I am giving myself permission to not do anything "productive" for a few months, and instead, snuggle my baby for hours on end. 

Sometimes I just focus on his tiny breaths; his little body rising and falling against mine. I watch his lips curl into sleepy smiles and dreamy frowns. I listen to every squeak and sigh. I gaze at his perfect face and can't believe that my body made him. 

I know that Finn will never remember the hours he spends curled up against me. But I'm getting more out of motherhood than I ever bargained for.

I don't think my arms will ever hold enough newborn babies. Especially my newborn babies. Nothing in the entire world makes me feel more alive.

The Babymoon is Over

Troy had the last two weeks off work for paternity leave. It was, in a word, divine.

Maybe it wasn't quite as heavenly as when we shipped the older two boys off to their grandparents' house for ten days when newborn baby #3 entered our world. But since school made that option impossible this time around, having Troy around to help for two weeks was the next best thing.

The boys relished the time spent with their dad. They have rarely seen him over the last year with increased work hours. In fact, the night before Finn was born, which was a Friday, Troy walked in the door at 7pm and Blake asked, "Dad, why are you home so early?" That was especially sad considering they hadn't seen each other since Monday.

While I adjusted to taking care of our new baby around the clock, Troy completely assumed the daily routines with the other three boys. He got them ready for school every morning and took over carpooling to and fro. He brought them to every soccer practice and game. He took whoever wasn't in school to the gym every day. He went on many special outings with the older two boys; roller skating, mini-golf, the Natural History Museum, a high school football game, the Nickelcade, the movie theater, breakfast dates, and one-on-one grocery shopping trips.

Since the rest of my family was so well taken care of, my world for the last two weeks consisted of Finn being in my lap, or in my arms, or on my chest constantly. We slept in together after nights with several awakenings. I couldn't bear to put him down when he fell asleep after his first feeding of the morning, so he stayed in my arms while I caught up on phone calls or leisurely reading. Then, when Crew went down for his nap after lunch, I snuggled Finn on the couch for a few more hours, sometimes dozing off myself. And the minute the older boys were in bed each night, Finn curled up on me for hours while I worked on my laptop. 

I did do the occasional house cleaning, laundry folding, children's book reading and spelling word quizzing. But for the most part, I soaked up every last minute of being relieved of most of my daily duties.

I knew all too well that the demands of our other children would take priority once Troy went back to work. I only had a small window to enjoy alone time with baby #4 and I took full advantage.

Today was our first day back to reality. It was brutal getting all four boys fed, dressed and loaded in the car by 8:30am for the school carpool. Blake cried on the way to school when he realized that his dad would never be home for such an extended period of time again. He sobbed, "I guess we'll see him at Christmas. And at nighttime. Well, maybe." Broke my heart.

When Troy walked in the door at 9pm, I relayed to him the details of my first day with four on the floor; the school drop-offs, Target run, car feedings, and pediatrician appointment that had us all burned out by the time preschool ended at noon. The after school homework saga where Crew climbed up on the dining room table again and drooled all over Blake's math sheet. The meltdown Nash had when Crew popped his beloved balloon he received in school. And of course, Finn needing to be fed the second we sat down for any meal.

I missed Troy more than ever today. Not just because he took so much weight off my shoulders the last two weeks. But also because I was getting used to having my best friend and moral support around. The shift from seeing him all day, every day to only an hour or two in the evenings is never an easy transition.

I missed my baby today too. I certainly didn't get to hold Finn as much as I have grown accustomed to. 

I suppose we all survived day one without any major catastrophes. But one thing is for certain. The blissful babymoon is officially over.

Keep Me Awake

These lyrics kept running through my mind the other night as Finn was sleeping soundly in my arms; his tiny chest rising and falling, his cool breath on my neck, his curled up legs snug against me. I felt a sense of urgency to capture this exact moment in time. Oh how I wish I could bottle it up. There is nothing better in the entire world than a newborn baby.

Babies Don't Keep

Soaking up a newborn baby is my favorite thing in the entire world. Especially when it's my newborn baby.

I know not everyone feels the same way about new babies. My husband is one of them. He would much rather interact with a child than hold a curled up lump on his chest.

But if I had to come up with what would be my perfect day, it would include having one of my newborns nuzzled tightly against me for hours, hands down.

We just wrapped up our first week with baby #4 at home. We've done this enough times that there haven't been many surprises. The sleeping, eating and diapering around the clock have seemed like second nature. The only difference this time around is that life hasn't stopped for the older boys. There are still carpools and homework assignments and spelling words and soccer games and birthday parties to manage amidst the chaos.

But the biggest surprise is the same thing that has caught me off guard with each of our brand new babies.

With each new addition to our family, I've gone into panic mode about that sweet newborn growing up. I know that I only get three months or less of the newborn stage and I'm so worried I'm not going to be able to savor every moment. The fear of never being in this stage of life again is all-consuming. 

When I have a newborn, everything else seems to fade into oblivion. I sink into this baby bliss where no matter how hard I try, I cannot soak my newborn in enough. The expressions. The curled up body. The breathing. The crying. I love it all.

The problem is, I can't keep having babies forever. Especially since miserable pregnancies are the precursors to my newborn babies. There has to be a last at some point.

I know that the panicky growing-up-too-fast feelings eventually fade because they have with all of the other boys. But the fear of this possibly being our last is what brings tears to my eyes. It's what makes me throw out my to-do list day after day and sink onto the couch with my newborn on my chest the minute the older boys are sleeping. It's what keeps me up late at night, shining my phone flashlight on Finn and watching his tiny chest rise and fall, because when he wakes up, he'll be older. He'll be bigger. He won't ever be this small again. 

I'm hoping to savor this newborn phase with less panic and more enjoyment before he becomes a full-fledged baby. I know all too well how quickly the time will pass.

More thoughts on newborns here and here.

Thoughts on Perspective

A question I often get asked now that I have three children is, "How is it having three?" 

I always respond that the transition from two to three has by far been the easiest.

Maybe it's because Crew is the most low-maintenance baby on the planet. Or maybe I'm more relaxed as a parent. Or just accustomed to the chaos.

But mostly, it's because once Crew was born, I finally felt human again.

I remember vividly a fall day just over a year ago. I had mustered up the energy to meet up with friends at a park. One of my friends, who is the sweetest person in the world, was ranting about how difficult it was to cram in dinner and homework and extracurricular activities with her four children each night.

I remember thinking in that moment that I would give anything, anything to trade places with her. Because even though her life was admittedly crazy, she felt good. She could actually make dinner for her family and drive them where they needed to be without keeling over.

That took place, of course, when I was pregnant and basically bedridden and wondering how I was going to survive each day. I made a mental note that even when the inevitable craziness started swirling around in my life, I would not take for granted the ability to feel well and focus on things other than survival.

Now, whenever I start to feel overwhelmed with commuting to and from school, filling bellies, helping with homework, folding mounds of laundry, nursing a baby all day long, cranking out design work, and manning three active boys all by myself on the church bench every Sunday, I remember how I felt last year at this time and remind myself that nothing, nothing could be worse.

Many events this fall triggered flashbacks to being pregnant again. I have some serious aversions associated with many autumn activities. The start of school and the events associated with that literally made feel nauseous at times. I can't ever look at a rake again and even going to the pumpkin patch was a stretch.

Coming from where I was a year ago, I have a whole new perspective on having three children. In fact, it's a breeze in comparison.

I'm feeling especially grateful this fall to feel like myself again. Even if it means I had to resume cooking dinner for my family.

I am His and He is Mine

I have to admit that I was really worried about bonding with this baby.

I had such a grueling, emotional pregnancy that left me numb towards having any sort of connection with the life growing within me.

But something transformed when I held that perfect fresh-from-heaven newborn baby close to me.

When I looked into his eyes, the look on his face just whispered to me, "I am yours and you are mine." He forgave me for my tardiness in loving him to my core.

I really needed that quiet week alone to officially fall in love.

It helps that I feel my most alive when I am the sole person sustaining another life.

It helps that Crew has been an absolute angel baby. So far, our easiest. He sleeps all the time, only wakes briefly to eat during the night, and I don't feel sleep deprived at all. I'd like to take the credit for his easiness because I'm so much more relaxed with baby #3, but I think he really is just a good baby.

It helps that I adore newborns to tears. Especially my newborns.

When I have a newborn, everything else seems to fade into oblivion. I toss out my to-do list day after day and sink into this baby bliss where no matter how hard I try I cannot soak my newborn in enough. The expressions. The curled up body. The breathing. The crying. I love it all.

It's not fair how quickly they grow out of being newborns. Don't get me wrong, I love the little people they become. But watching those little cheeks plump out and packing away that first stack of too-small newborn clothes always puts me into panic mode. It makes me wish I could keep my babies that small forever. And the panic of them growing up too fast seems to get worse with each child.

Right when I have a newborn is when baby fever hits the most for me. Not that the newborn I am holding isn't enough...quite the contrary. That new baby fills my heart to the very brim. But the thought of my little Crew being the last newborn I'll ever bring home from the hospital makes me feel like I just got kicked in the stomach. I never ever want to be pregnant again, but I can't imagine that this is the last time I'll have a newborn nuzzled tightly against me with his perfect smell and tiny chest rapidly rising and falling.

I'm trying my best not to worry about what the future holds (especially since Troy declared that we are done bringing children into this world). I'm going to soak this newborn in with all my might before he becomes a full-fledged baby. I know all too well how quickly the time will pass. And for now, I am his and he is mine.

This is Heaven

The day after we brought Crew home from the hospital, Troy sent the older boys to their grandparents' house for ten days.

I should probably say that I miss them, but in reality, it has been heaven.

No messes to clean up, meals to prepare, arguments to break up, noses to wipe, or endless whining.

Sleeping in, visitors coming and going, errands to gather the last touches for our finished basement, dates with Troy (and a sleepy baby), house projects to wrap up.

Having only one baby to take care of has been a piece of cake. I can't believe I ever thought it was hard the first time around. It's amazing how our capacity for chaos grows with each additional child.

Crew can typically be found napping in my lap, or in a ball on my shoulder, or stretched out in my arms, or swaddled tightly next to me in my bed. Completely undisturbed by noise or distractions.

I am treasuring this time I have alone to soak up this sweet new life. It fills my heart with wonder that I got to bring this miracle into the world.

I love how he snuggles up to me, breathing peacefully in my ear.

I love his velvety soft wrinkly skin and the hint of softer than soft downy fuzz covering it.

I love how he flings his arms wide open when he hears a loud sound.

I love how his little mouth roots towards anything that brushes his cheek.

I love the sounds he makes while he's eating.

I love the satisfied, limp, drunken state he gets in when he's done.

I love nighttime feedings alone with him, bathed in the dim light coming from the hallway.

I love those tiny feet and hands.

I love the perfect smell he has.

I love looking into his newborn eyes and wondering what he's remembering.

And yes, I even love that sweetest ever newborn cry.

I have always adored newborns. But it's just different when it's my baby, part of me. I can almost feel my own heart beating in that tiny chest because I'm so in love.

As excited as I am for Crew's brothers to fall in love with him too, I'm so grateful for this week that I've had him to focus on all to myself.

Combating Morning Sickness (a.k.a. All-Day Sickness)

I'm officially at the half-way point today. 20 weeks down, 20 to go. Although it feels like I have about 50 weeks under my belt at this point.

To celebrate, I thought I'd share 20 of my "tips and tricks" to endure a deep and abiding stomach flu that lasts for three to four months straight. This is also known as morning sickness, or, in my case, all-day sickness.

I was willing to try pretty much anything when most days I didn't know if I could endure another hour. I even researched if it would be safe to be put into a coma while pregnant. But since that didn't prove to be a viable option, I had to resort to other ways of coping.

Nothing I tried was a magical solution. I mostly just had to suffer through it. And some days one thing took the egde off and the next day it didn't work at all. But even though I wanted to lie in the fetal position every second in between my frequent trips to the porcelain bowl, I still had two children to take care of and cart around to various places.

So, to all of my pregnant sisters out there who are lying in bed near a bowl or toilet, here are some tips and tricks that I've discovered over the years that may give you 5 minutes of relief until the next bout hits.

1. Doctor prescribed meds. Some women swear by these, but I didn't find anything to be a "cure." Zofran maybe made me throw up less, but I still felt like I was about to puke my guts out 24/7, which was sometimes worse. Phenergan made me so deliriously sleepy that I couldn't function, and Reglen gave me crazy side effects. At 10 weeks I started having contractions and intestinal cramping because my body completely rejected it.

2. Vitamin B6 and ½ Unisom tablet. Again, this combo didn't prove to do much for me, but I know it works miracles for others. But beware, it might make you sleepy.

3. Sobe Lifewater. Using the B-vitamin logic, I stocked up on Sobe drinks that contained vitamin B. Sometimes they were soothing and I liked drinking something other than plain water, but once I threw them up a few times they weren't ever really the same. I think I still have a few bottles left in our outside fridge.

4. Fountain soda and limeades. I'm not a natural soda drinker. But a fizzy fountain Sprite always helped a little. Even if my two year old is now addicted after sneaking so many sips of my drinks. I also got hooked on Sonic's limeades. There is a Sonic close to the boys' school that I frequented.

5. String cheese. In those moments where I had to grab to eat something immediately, I usually went for string cheese. I bought the nicer varieties - Sargento cheddar and jack to switch things up a bit. I could only live on pretzels and crackers for so long. I still grab string cheese in the evenings when the nausea hits and at this point it's usually (not always) enough to tide me over till bedtime.

6. Avoid things that will not feel good coming back up. I get into a different eating mentality when I'm pregnant. With everything I consume, I consider how bad the repercussions will be when the contents come back up. Salad and spicy food are the worst in my opinion. I once had someone tell me that every time she felt nauseous while she was pregnant, she ate an apple and it made her feel great. Obviously she hadn't thrown up apples 4 times in one day. Just sayin' - think before you eat.

7. While we're at it, avoid talking to anyone who was nauseous for one day and/or threw up once or twice during their pregnancies, and thinks they "know what you're going through." It just makes you want to punch them in the face.

8. Airplane barf bags. I've tried out a variety of barf receptacles, and airplane bags are the best. They fold up enough to put several in your purse, they are thick and hole-free, and they usually have a sealing flap to keep the contents contained until you can find a trash can. We have a good friend that travels a lot and he brought me a huge stack.

9. Plug your nose. I learned the best trick with this pregnancy. Since I get the most sick in the evenings, the up-chuck contents stay in my sinuses all night long and make it impossible to breathe. I wake up multiple times during those nights and have to re-wet the roof of my mouth because it feels like sandpaper. But I learned that if you plug your nose while you are throwing up, it helps the food bits not get stuck in your sinuses. Let me tell you, I'm really good at holding my hair with one hand and plugging my nose with the other.

10. Popsicles. Cold and soothing, even if they don't do much nutritionally.

11. Lemon drops. For about four weeks straight, I popped lemon drops almost constantly to help with the nausea. And then of course I got incredibly sick of that taste being in my mouth. I don't know if I'll ever be able to suck on a lemon drop again, but I swear it helped.

12. Ginger. Some people say ginger helps. Gingerale never did much for me, and if you've ever tasted raw candied ginger even when you're not pregnant - you might as well start running towards the bathroom.

13. Peppermint oil. I tried rubbing this on my feet and belly a few times. I'm not really one for oils but I guess the smell is supposed to be relieving.

14. Gummy vitamins. I cannot for the life of me get those horse prenatal vitamins down, so I go for the chewable gummy ones when I'm pregnant. I get the One-a-Day adult or women's multivitamins, which taste like fruit snacks. They basically have all of the same vitamins as prenatal pills.

15. Sea-sickness wristbands. I wore these religiously for a while thinking they might be helping. Of course it was still 90°+ at that point so they looked awesome with my short sleeves. In that same vein, motion sickness ear patches. I had a few leftover from our cruise, but they made my already heaving mouth so dry that I ripped them off after one day.

16. Mints. Spearmint gum, starlight mints, Altoids, anything that will distract you momentarily.

17. You are in charge. I learned with baby #3 that I could tell my doctor/midwive no. You know those mandatory first trimester blood draws? I said no. I'm pretty sure my blood type hasn't changed and I haven't contracted an STD since my last pregnancy. And the pap? Just say no. I was so nauseous that thinking of doing anything other than checking for the heartbeat at those first few appointments put me over the edge. So, I stuck up for myself. Apparently I can't avoid that 28 week gestational diabetes test though.

...and I just took an intermittent break to go throw up. I guess the half way point isn't looking that optimistic after all. Lately, it just springs on me. I know, TMI.

18. Take naps and go to bed early. This one was hard for me because I feel like naps are such a waste of time. Usually, I go go go all day long. But sleep was the one and only relief, so I tried to take advantage whenever I could (as much as was possible with two small children).

19. Have great friends and a great husband. It is important to accept offers to help when you really need it, as hard as that may be. I don't know what I would have done without friends who brought us meals and took our boys some afternoons. Or a husband who put up with my constant hormonal emotions and did the grocery shopping. And even stood over me with tissues and sanitizing wipes each time I lost it. It doesn't get much more glamorous than that.

20. Find distractions. Even though I wanted to curl up and not leave the house, doing nothing for three months straight would have made me go crazy. I never felt up to it, but I still went to book club and playgroups and church and other outings. The time passed so slowly that any distraction I could find to fill the time was worth the effort. As long as I had my airplane barf bags close at hand. I've felt so thankful for my job the last few months as well. Since I couldn't just sleep all day long, my design work kept my mind distracted even though my body felt terrible. Designing websites on my laptop while laying on the couch filled the time and helped me feel like I was still accomplishing something.

One more: Perspective. Without warning, pregnancy took over my life. And it should (well, if you're lucky, not the sickness part) for anyone who is growing a human being. Even though it seems like it will never end, I have two growing children that prove that it does indeed end. As hard as it is to endure, do the best you can to remember that it won't last forever. You'll have your body back again. You'll reestablish your normal routines and hobbies. You'll set new goals when you feel better. For now, give yourself a break and do what you need to do to survive, one day at a time. This too shall pass. I promise.

It's a...

It was confirmed for a second time today.

It’s no secret that I was aching for a baby girl this time around. I have dreamed of having my own daughter since I was a little girl myself. Everyone that I know recognizes how deep that desire goes for me.

I’ve debated over and over about posting something so deep and personal. But I like to keep it real. I don’t ever want to put on the pretense that we have a picture perfect life. And it’s getting harder to hide my emotions behind happy pictures. It just all seems fake when I’ve cried and cried and cried myself to dehydration.

I have always wanted the opportunity to have a girl. And it’s not just about the bows and dresses and dance classes (although I’m dying for those too). I don’t just want a girl, I want a daughter. There is a special bond that comes with mothers and daughters that isn’t the same with sons. I want to know that at least one child will want to talk with me when she gets older or come see me when she's grown and be my shopping and crafting partner and family get-together co-planner.

This is an ultra sensitive topic, because I’m very aware of those that are unable to have children or have lost children and must think I’m so selfish and ungrateful for the blessings I’ve received. There are so many who would give anything just to have a baby - and a healthy one at that - let alone worry about whether it's a boy or a girl.

So let me clarify that I am grateful, incredibly grateful. I would not swap out any of my boys for a girl. But I can’t deny that not a day goes by that I don’t long and yearn for a daughter.

When the ultrasound tech announced that it was a third boy (which was unnecessary since I can identify boy parts in my sleep), I didn’t cry at first. I mean it’s not this sweet, innocent new spirit’s fault. And I will love him just as much as I absolutely adore our other two boys.

But what sent me into hysterics was the realization that I’m probably never going to have a girl.

I daydreamed about how the ultrasound would go a thousand times in my head. I imagined the tears of joy that would stream out when the ultrasound tech revealed, “It’s a girl!” I literally sensed the overwhelming emotions I would feel as I replayed the scenario over and over in my mind. And how it would be the happiest day of my life. I even had the “gender reveal” all planned out.

Each time I’ve learned that my boys are boys, it has gotten more painful for me. And it has nothing to do with them. With Blake, I was excited to give Troy his boy. And in the back of my mind, I thought, “Okay, well the next one will be a girl.” With Nash, I cried a little. Two boys under our belt with no girl on the horizon was scary. But, I was still happy that Blake would have a brother and best friend, and I knew we weren’t done having babies yet, so I was okay with it. And obviously I can’t imagine my life without the sweet boys who fill me with so much joy.

But I was terrified to have a third child. And now that the boy factor is confirmed, the light seems very dim, even impossible, for the possibility of ever having a girl. I feel like I’ve lost my last shot.

I’ve actually known for about a month and have been trying the best I can to deal with the reality. I’ve told very few people because it’s just as awkward for others to respond as it is for me to relive the news over and over.

Two of my best friends came with me to the initial ultrasound. They have been my absolute rock throughout all of this. Not only have they brought us meals and taken care of me physically, but they sobbed right along with me at the ultrasound. And they continue to cry with me whenever I need support.

Every day of facing the reality is hard. What started out as mostly physical suffering has now taken full emotional effect on me. And reliving the ultrasound for a second time today was just as emotional as the first time. For some foolish reason I still had a glimmer of hope within me that a girl would be revealed.

Little things set me off each day that are mostly selfish; folding baskets of laundry and realizing I’ll soon be adding more boy jeans and hand-me-downs to those baskets instead of girl clothes, knowing that I won’t get to have the baby shower I’ve dreamed of after hosting so many for others, walking through any children’s clothing store and bypassing the “off-limits” side that I’ve wanted to shop in for years, wondering what to do with my bin of girl paraphernalia that I’ve saved over the years, and wanting to remove every single baby girl nursery idea that I’ve pinned and collected.

I feel broken. Like I’m just not capable of making baby girls (even though technically it's my husband's fault :). I cry because I am so disappointed and then I cry because I feel guilty for being disappointed. I’m sad that this arrival isn’t going to be exciting for any of the grandparents because they already have a plethora of grandsons. I feel heartbroken for Blake, who desperately wants a baby sister. How do I explain to him that this was meant to be and it will be wonderful when I can barely accept that reality myself?

I know that everything happens for a reason and this boy is meant to come to our family, yada yada yada, but that doesn’t ease the void I feel for my missing girl.

In some ways, I am grieving the loss of my girl, even though she never really existed. It was hard for me to be excited about the pregnancy from the beginning because I’ve been so so sick every hour of every day for four months straight. But the only thing that got me though the hardest times was the hope of my little girl and that all of the pain and suffering would somehow be worth it.

Now it feels like the girl that I imagined and dreamed about my entire life is gone. I really thought she was coming this time. It had to be a girl, right? I was so much sicker, the baby was “timed” to be a girl, and I had a handful of other personal experiences that confirmed my prediction. I was 120% certain. I barely entertained the possibility of the baby being a boy. And now I’m falling especially hard because I’m mourning the loss of someone I never had to begin with.

People seem very curious if we will try again.

The answer is we don’t know. Going for a fourth and having another boy terrifies me. And that does not mean we don’t love the boys we have. We love them with a fierceness that only parents can understand. And we do not wish any of them were a girl.

Technically, we haven’t scheduled any irreversible procedures. Troy and I both just thought this was the end of our child-bearing era. Three children felt right. After this one, womb closed. Out of business. Finis. But now there are some question marks.

We've felt judgment for not jumping on board and immediately planning for the next one. No one understands the depth of how hard pregnancy is for me (and my entire family), and how each time it has gotten profoundly worse. To the point of barely functioning. Physically, I really don’t know if I can ever do it again. And making the decision to have a fourth child now, when I’m at my worst, is unfair and impossible. I still have a long way to go with this pregnancy.

Though I know everyone I talk to means well, most of the time, I don’t want to be comforted. I don’t want to hear “You make such beautiful boys” (I’ve never questioned that), “Think of all the daughters-in-law you will have someday!” (Not the same at all), “But you’ll have grand daughters” (Can I dress them everyday and French braid their hair and enroll them in dance?), “You’ll completely forget what it was like being sick and be able to have another one” (I do NOT forget. I remember vividly how sick I was with Nash, and I don’t think the memories from this one will ever fade). I don’t want to hear about other ultrasound experiences where the mom “just knew” what she was having and she was right. I “knew” too. Being told that my intuition was wrong is hard to swallow. And I really don't want to hear about those instances where the ultrasound revealing a boy ended up being wrong.

I’m sure that at our third son’s birth I won’t feel anything vaguely resembling disappointment. Just because I wasn’t instantly thrilled about this boy doesn’t mean that I don’t want him or I’ll love him any less. And so far, he looks healthy, and a healthy baby is a miracle in and of itself. He is our son and I know I will love everything about him. We have the means to support him. He will have two older brothers to look up to. We know we are blessed beyond measure. And on the bright side, we’ll have a lot less PMS in our household.

I also don’t think I’ll ever stop longing for a daughter. No matter how much I love my sons, no matter how wonderful they are, no matter how grateful I am for happy, healthy children, no matter that I would not swap them for all the daughters in the world, or even one, it won't take away the wanting of a baby girl.

Though I’m feeling sadness over a broken dream, I know that grieving is the only way to reach acceptance. There is no shortcut, no way around. And when I eventually make my way to acceptance, it will be a good, good place to be.

5 Reasons Why You're a Great Mom, Not a Lame Mom

I have a best friend in Michigan that hasn't been able to physically help me during this rough pregnancy. But in addition to our weekly phone chats where she always makes me feel better because she can relate to extreme pregnancy sickness, she sent me a heartfelt email several weeks ago that meant more to me emotionally than any meal or clean counter did at the time.

I was going through a round of what I like to call "mom guilt," because obviously I'm not the world's greatest mom right now. Our boys are barely getting their basic needs met.

Her words helped me out so much to relieve some of the mom guilt I had been feeling, so I asked for her permission to share it with you. As moms, we all get hung up on perfection. Sometimes we need to lower the bar a bit, especially when things are out of our control.

So I hope that this helps anyone who is feeling tinges of "mom guilt." Or at least helps you to see why I am so blessed to have a best friend like her :)

1. You might feel lame because your kids will be spending a lot of time at home these days. But...at least your kids live in a nice home. And regardless of its current state because you don't feel well enough to clean, I know that it does not look like it will be aired on the next episode of Hoarders, and does not reek like cigarette smoke. (Can you guess what kind of home I visited tonight?)

2. You feel lame because your kids will be watching a lot of television for the next couple of months. That's like apologizing because your kids get Christmas presents this year, and it isn't good for them to be spoiled. Let's face it. Watching unlimited television is pretty much like Christmas morning to a kid. Maybe you would be lame if it was forever. But if it's just for a few months, you're not lame. You're Santa Claus. 

3. You feel guilty because you're not feeling excited about being pregnant. You're not excited because you feel like crap and you feel like you can't be a good mom to your other two children. Let me tell you what kinds of moms should feel guilty; moms that do drugs while they're pregnant, moms that don't know who the dad is, moms who are pregnant because they are prostitutes, moms that can't afford to take care of their baby, moms that beat and neglect their children, and moms that don't know how to show love to their children. Sadly, this is the majority of the kinds of moms I associate with in my job. You should not feel guilty because you're not excited about being pregnant. You will be. And your child will be luckier than 90% of the children around him/her. Also, try as I might, I can't remember a darn thing from when I was a fetus. 

4. Even some of the worst days that you have experienced lately illustrate what a good mom you are. For instance, the soccer game from you know where. Just think of all the children who never even get a chance to be enrolled in soccer, because their parents can't afford it, or their parents don't ever put their children first or give them enough thought to think it might be good for them to try different activities. Most people in your shoes would have said "Screw soccer. I'm staying home in my pajamas, and you can watch cartoons for the rest of the day." But you went out and endured a soccer game, full of crying, snot flinging, and a barf taste in your throat. Lame Mom? I think not. 

5. Last but not least, (and on a more serious note), you are a good mom because you care, and are so worried that you are NOT being a good mom. If you weren't such a great mom, you wouldn't care. Period. I know we've had lots of talks along this subject over the years, but the bottom line is, we put too much pressure on ourselves these days. There are not very many moms out there that put the time and energy into their kids that you do, and definitely not when they're puking their guts out. You are trying to keep yourself to a very high standard, which you have already set by being such a great mom. Lower the bar Linds. It's just not going to happen right now. You have the rest of their childhoods to make it up to them. And in the meantime, they are safe, happy, loved, and in seventh heaven-watching unlimited television. No more mom guilt Linds. No more. Keep the boys alive, pamper yourself, and in a few months, life is going to look a whole lot better.

At Sea

Sailing days were among my favorites. We liked to get up and go to the gym, lay by the pool and read, eat way too much food, tune in to the European Cup games (in German) and get more sleep than we ever would at home. We had a few formal nights to top off the relaxing sea days.

I have no idea why I was doing this.

Whatever was going on was apparently very funny.

One mistake I made was to tell Blake via Skype that our ship had a water slide. He burst into tears and asked when we were getting him a ticket. I felt horrible for that oversight.

There's nothing like a little sunset bocce ball.

That's right, you show him.

I love everything about this shot. The symmetry, the framing, the ball in mid-air. Just sayin'.

It was amazing visiting so many countries, but topping the list for me was having the opportunity to power through four parenting books that I have been wanting to read for ages. I rarely take time out to read at home, and being able to devote my undivided attention to my kindle and notebook was invaluable.

I desperately needed refreshers on the correct ways to talk to children, respect them, problem-solve and teach them values. I learned it all in college, but that was before I was on the front line day and night. Now, when I'm worn out and frustrated by the constant barrage of the needs of two small children, the right words don't always flow.

A little escape from reality was just what I needed to set new goals, get back on track, and feel empowered with the review of skills that I learned long ago. It helped that I was missing the boys like crazy and was so eager to get back to them and "practice."

In case you're interested, I read: How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk (by far my favorite), The Entitlement Trap (also good), 1-2-3 Magic (so-so; the whole book could have been condensed down to one chapter), and Love and Logic Magic for Early Childhood (I know a lot of people swear by this method, but I found it to be poorly written and contradictory to a lot of things I've been taught).

Sailing days are the best.