Pregnant and holding a baby
I had just had my third baby, our first girl. She came early the same way my other two did, at thirty-four weeks. She was also my first baby after having my son with Down Syndrome!
My son was about two years old and I was just getting my footing after being in an adrenaline-fueled existence that was driving my ability to care for a baby who had heart surgery and Special Needs.
This sweet fire-infused little girl came early and with so much grit. She was the tiniest and most petite thing which of course always seems to be paired with the most determined of souls.
She had to stay about four weeks in the NICU which led to a new level of fight (when presented with fight or flight my husband and I automatically dive headfirst into the fight) and adrenaline. We ran on a schedule that consisted of the two of us switching between being at home with our boys and being at the hospital with our girl. She didn’t have the same luxury her older siblings had. .
With our first, we were at the hospital almost all the time. With our second, one of us was home and one of us was the NICU parent - one of us was still always there.
With our girl, we had to manage our time. It took both of us to give both our boys what they needed and then we took turns at the hospital. We relied on the nurses more, we relied on.the doctors more, and we survived.
When our girl came home we CELEBRATED! My husband and I also celebrated six weeks postpartum when we were cleared for “celebration”. When our girl had only been home a few months, we found out our celebration came with the gift of baby number four.
I cried……
A lot…….
I had just had my third c-section in four years. I am type 1 Diabetic and as vigilant as I was in managing this disease, I was tired and my body was tired. I had a little boy, a toddler with additional needs, and a newborn…..and I was pregnant again.
I was afraid for myself, I was afraid for my babies. I knew the statistics and I knew people would talk. I knew it was going to be hard.
As much as I knew, I also knew there was already another baby growing inside me, so I decided to pull up my postpartum diapers.
I caught up my brain and spirit with the reality of what was, and we began yet another chapter of our story.
Roughly eight months later my fourth baby and second little girl arrived at thirty-six weeks gestation.
My girls are officially eleven months apart. My gorgeous Irish twins. One has long silky fine honey blonde hair, the other has thick dark luscious curls. My oldest sees everything in black and white. She is always to the point and all business most of the time. My youngest is the epitome of a creative free spirit and pulls her sister out of her comfort zone toward her freeness on the daily. They couldn’t be more different or more of what the other needs.
My fourth baby, the wild free creative soul, the one that I cried over when I found out existed, has been the rainbow and the unicorn that fills all the new and exciting spaces of our lives. She infuses everyone’s spirit with joy and silliness and unique creativity.
My little number four was the scariest journey I’ve ever stepped into. I quickly realized that stepping into her journey completed our world in a way we didn’t even know needed completing.
I learned through our story with our unicorn baby number four is that when our stories are full of the unexpected and the hard, we can choose to take the path of embracing beauty OR we can hold onto our original ideas so tightly that we miss the JOY implanted in what IS.
I encourage you, friend, you have permission to EMBRACE BEAUTY. You have permission to Embrace the unexpected. You have permission to walk through the really hard with all your feelings and pain, and you have permission to still CHOOSE JOY.
Take a big breath, pull up those postpartum chonies, LEAN INTO the journey, FALL. INTO. HOPE.
YOU HAVE PERMISSION TO STILL CHOOSE JOY.