Roughly five years and eleven months ago, I found out I was pregnant. I ran downstairs, too excited and overwhelmed with emotion to bother thinking up a cute way to tell my husband the news. “We’re going to have a baby!” burst from my mouth as tears streamed down my cheeks. As we hugged and cried together, we found ourselves wondering for the first time what the hell was in store for us. I spent the entire pregnancy vomiting and fearing all the things. At the top of my list of fears was my own ability to be a mother. How would I know what to do? What do I do when my baby is sick? Will he or she love me? Would I be able to give my baby everything it needs? What if I fail? My fears and worries continued to grow, as did the baby in my belly. After a seemingly never-ending nine months and twenty-two hours of labor, Clara joined our family and she has been giving us the most wonderful run for our money since. She was the first of my children to prove me wrong. I always knew what to do when she was sick. I don’t doubt for a second that she loves me. I know in the deepest part of my soul that I have given her everything she needs and more, and though I often feel like I’m failing in daily scenarios, I don’t think I’m failing her in the long run. She is the most beautiful soul, a keeper of us on our toes, and, as it turns out, a pretty darn good big sister.
Roughly three years and six months ago, I found out I was pregnant. I dressed Clara in an adorable big sister outfit and videotaped Matthew’s reaction when he returned home from work. Clara was blissfully unaware of how her world was about to be turned upside down, and I was not-so-blissfully unaware of the human heart’s capacity to love. I spent nine months vomiting and fearing that I would never be capable of loving my second-born as much as I loved Clara. It seemed impossible for that type of love to exist for more than one person, and I dreaded the potential realization of my fears. Nine months came and went, and ten days before her due date, Eloise joined our family. At the time, we said that Eloise completed our family. After all, my husband was adamant that we would only have two children, and I was okay with that given my aforementioned fears of having another baby. But instead of completing our family, what she really did was prove us wrong, yet again, in the best of ways. She showed me that my heart has no limit on how much love I can have. Eloise was the second baby we prayed for and the unexpected gift we never knew we needed; because of her and all her spunk, smiles, sass and snuggles, we learned that adding another child to our family was nothing short of an unimaginable blessing. Clara made me a mother and Eloise taught me how to really be a mother. The bond those two girls forged as sisters proved to their parents that there was one more baby destined to become part of our family.
Roughly ten and a half months ago, I found out I was pregnant. My husband stood next to me as I looked at the results, but I had already known for days what that test would say. Something was different about this time, I just seemed to know there was a baby inside of me, the test strip simply confirmed my suspicions. Never having found out the gender of either of my first two pregnancies, we decided to mix it up a little bit, admittedly hoping for a boy this time. Ten weeks later, we put the girls to bed, ordered takeout from our favorite local spot, and read the results of my blood test together. The test “detected a Y chromosome, consistent with a male fetus.” It took more than a few seconds to process. A blue “It’s a Boy!” balloon certainly would’ve been easier, but it wouldn’t have allowed for the rest of our plan. Though some of our family and friends still can’t believe it, we knew soon after Eloise turned two that she would have a little brother, but no one else would know until he was born. My husband and I had a beautiful little secret that was so fun to keep and for the first time, I felt like I really knew the baby inside of me. We were careful never to call him by name, but we knew what his name would be. His personalized embroidered stocking sat under my bed, waiting to be hung on our fireplace the day we brought him home from the hospital. I would have a boy. A son. Knowing this made the passing time that much more difficult, I just couldn’t wait to meet him! And simultaneously, it made being pregnant that much more difficult too. I’m a girl mom, or at least I was until recently! I know hair bows and unicorns, I know how to change the girl diapers, I know all the lyrics to all the Disney princess songs, and I know the ins and outs of being a moody girl because, let’s face it, I am one. I’m not a boy mom, or at least I wasn’t until recently! I know literally nothing about the Avengers (I think that’s a thing?) or the challenges of the boy diaper changes (hey boy moms out there, a more accurate heads up would’ve been nice!) I don’t have brothers and the cousins I grew up with are all girls. I’ve never seen Star Wars and I despise football. I was so (so, so, so, so!!) scared that I wouldn’t be a good mom to him. And then, as the nine months dissipated into weeks, my fears gave way to utter physical discomfort. Luckily, the newest love of my life entered our family twelve days early and, just like his sisters did before me, he proved me wrong. Love at first sight can’t begin to explain the experience of meeting your child for the first time. I had waited so long, and suddenly, he was there! Harrison didn’t cry when he was born, and he rarely cries now. He sleeps a lot, but when he’s awake, he just looks around, observing, like he did the moment he was born. At twenty-eight days old, he is inquisitive, observant, and the greatest love my heart has ever known. I spend each day watching his big sisters nurture and dote on him, and I know that he has completed our family, finally. I know that I have nothing to be afraid of because he will teach me what I need to know, just as his sisters have done and continue to do. The things I feared while he grew inside of me are insignificant. What really matters is that we now have the three most wonderful children we could have ever hoped for in this life, and we get to spend the rest of our time on this Earth shaping them to be the best possible versions of themselves.
