Tag Archives: babies

Life with 6 Kids

She’s been part of our lives for over eight months now. That’s unreal.

Life with 6 Kids

How does that even happen? Wow.

The older I get, the more amazed I become about the passage of time. It just FLIES by. I try to impart that bit of knowledge into my kids, but like all other young people, they don’t get it quite yet. But they will. One day they will.

So how am I faring with six kids some may ask?

Whenever I am out shopping, I get myriad of looks while herding my little brood in and out of stores. I can see their lips moving as they count‚ÄĒone,… two,…three, four. And their eyes widen…five, six. Sometimes I mentally count with them. It never hurts to double check and make sure that I don’t have any stragglers. ūüôā

Then the comments come rolling in.

You’ve got your hands full.

My, you must be busy with all these kids.

Only one boy, huh?!

Life with 6 kids

And they smile. But I can see it in their eyes, hear it in their tone, and see it on their face. Amazement. Curiosity. Surprise. They are interested. Not for their own experience really, but to perhaps vicariously live ‚ÄĒjust for a moment‚ÄĒas the parent of a large family.

So what’s it really like? I mean, reeeally like to have half a dozen kids??

Life with 6 Kids

Settle in while I give you the low down on lots of littles, the honest truth. I promise.

Life with 6 Kids….So, What’s it Really Like?

Continual noise

Yes, let’s start with the noise. You are struck with the cacophony of what sounds like wild Indians during the settling of the old west before your foot ever crosses the threshold. The rooms echo with the sounds of childish babble and laughter fills the halls. And thudding. There is lots of thudding and thumping interspersed with the pitter-patter of little feet as they chase each other up and down the length of the home. A baby crying to be nursed and the long sobbing wail of one who cannot find her blanket. It all intermingles into one raucous clamor with minimal moments of silence. Long periods of silence almost never happen and if they do, always investigate. Silence during waking hours is not your friend. Nap time and bed time quiet are different story. They are truly golden moments after especially loud days and evenings. But then again, what am I saying? Nap time and bed time are treasured on any given day.

Mess

Frankly, it’s everywhere. We have eight people living in 1900 sq ft of living space. I try to remind myself that even if we were all adults, neatness would be an ongoing task and everyday battle. Obviously the entire household is not comprised of grown-ups, thus the clutter can seem even more overwhelming. The kids help out every day and have assigned daily chores, but I’ve come to realize that if I maintain a spotless house, I’m ignoring the lives of the little people in it. And babies don’t keep.

In other words, the mess reigns most days.

Food

Food?? I’m not overly familiar with it, it disappears so quickly. I am loving shopping at Costco more and more these days. Bulk buying is your BFF when you have a large family. Meals and snacks are devoured at a steady rate and you are¬†left there staring at a pile of dirty dishes and trails of crumbs around the kitchen chairs. I’m not kidding. You blink and it’s gone. So dig in while you can. It’s the motto we live by.

Life with 6 Kids

Money

It disappears.

Adult conversation

It only happens between 8pm and 6am. Any other conversations attempted are interspersed with multiple offspring reprimands and boo-boo kissing. And let me tell ya, this makes some discussions with a spouse difficult and wearisome to follow. Many a tale has ended with these words, “Forget it. I’ll tell you later.” Followed by an understanding peck on the cheek.

It’s a season of life, only a season. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves. (between 8pm and 6am, of course)

No “me-time”

Your every waking moment is about others. Feeding, changing, teaching, bathing, cleaning, correcting….the list seems endless. Showers and bathroom breaks are your treasured reprieves. And even they are few and far between.

Life with 6 Kids

By now most of you are thinking,”¬†I knew it.¬† I just knew it. These are exactly some of the reasons why I would never want a large family.”

Well, now I’d like to tell you otherwise.

But you just said…. And you just listed….Yes, yes, I know. I know what I just said and what I just listed. Mothering half a dozen kids is rough. I often fall into bed dog tired at the end of the day, both mentally and physically. It can be a struggle. And the kids win, most days.

I said that I would be honest here, and I have been. But I also would be remiss if I didn’t tell you this.

Some noises are nice. Like the noise of an infant laughing for the first time. Or the giggles of the entire family as you all watch the antics of a two year old. Or the happy chatter as you gather around the table for a meal or a game of cards. Or the sound of music as songs are being rehearsed or piano lessons are being practiced. You see, the absence of noise would actually be the saddest sound. And while nap time and bed time truly are golden moments, Hubs and I often find ourselves halfway wishing we could get the kids up again after a half hour of quiet. We just plain miss them.

Food, well, it’s meant to be eaten. And many¬†memories are made when families gather to share meals together. Nothing warms my heart more than to see all of their sweet, young faces seated around our kitchen table. It’s during moments like those that I feel supremely blessed, my heart full. And when you realize how fortunate you really are, what’s a pile of dirty dishes or two? Instead you feel incredibly grateful as you sweep up that trail of crumbs. Again. For the seventeenth time that day.

Life with 6 Kids

Money. I didn’t say much about this earlier and I won’t say much about it here either. We have more possessions, riches if you will, than most people in the world. Do we have a huge house? Drive fancy cars? No and no. Material things don’t bring happiness and neither does a fat bank account. At the end of the day, what we obtain here on this earth is of little consequence, but the lives that we impact are everything. Besides, as my dad has always said in regards to wealth, “You can’t take it with you.”¬† End of story. ūüėČ

Adult conversation is on the rise. How’s that? Well, babies and children have this unusual habit of growing up and I’m finding this to be true in our home as well. Bunny and Fuzz love to chat about their day, about their likes and dislikes. You name it and they’ll talk about it. I often find myself gazing into their faces while the sound of their voices fade to the background, completely mesmerized. These beautiful, young girls are my daughters. And I shake my head in disbelief as the topics of politics, world history and religion are frequently¬†discussed at the dinner table. However, there are still days after evening devotions and family time are past and we prepare to leave the table that I come back to reality when my oldest daughter asks me a question. “Can I go play outside, Mom?”¬† Inwardly I smile as I nod my head. Yes, adult conversations may be on the rise, but we are not there yet. And I’m fine with that. Let them be kids.

And then there is the illusive “me time”. Now I will not deny that having a moment of quietness and solitude can at times be refreshing, especially on particularly overwhelming mom days. We all need the ability to unwind and/or recharge. But if every thought and deed is inward focused, then I need to reevaluate my purpose. Since when is life supposed to be about me? Has our generation become so narcissistic that the thought of serving and living for others seems mundane, boring and a drudgery? Sure, I do a lot of the same things over and over every day. And so does everyone. That’s life. I would much rather spend my time in the daily trenches of life with other people‚ÄĒpeople I love‚ÄĒinstead of by myself. I love nothing better than continually shouldering with my husband, working as one as we raise our children. We’re in this together. Plus, he knows me inside and out. He gives me chocolate and a quick escape to a quiet place when I need it.

So what’s it like raising a large family you ask?

It’s messy and it’s beautiful. Consuming and yet worthwhile. Stressful and also satisfying. Wearisome and energizing. Full of tears and full of laughter.¬†It takes and it gives.

And gives and gives and gives. <3

Life with 6 Kids

                               Thank you so much for reading.

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One-Half Dozen

The week before Christmas I received an unexpected, yet joyous gift.

Five turns into six

 

I felt so blessed‚ÄĒa sweet new life to nurture and love.

I reached thirteen weeks yesterday and praise the Lord for a healthy pregnancy thus far. My biggest issue this time around has been extreme fatigue, more so than I remember. Perhaps it’s because I’m older or maybe because I have five children to care for during this pregnancy instead of four. My prenatals really seem to be helping as well as the fact that those first few weeks are now behind me.

I’ve had my first OB appointment with my midwife and all went well. However she was unable to capture a heartbeat with the hand held fetal doppler and thought that I measured a bit earlier than twelve weeks. (Three months is the threshhold where a fetal doppler can be used to pick up the baby’s heartbeat.) We also did not have a solid due date because of my weaning Baby Van which had resulted in an inconsistent cycle.

The birth center typically does not encourage an ultrasound other than the anatomy sonogram at 18 weeks or so, however they sent me to a local hospital to establish a due date for this new little one. My appointment was scheduled for Monday, February 2nd. I tried not to fret as my mind filled with very vivid memories from three years before.

August baby

My heart was in my throat as I entered the sonogram room at the hospital and I was so tempted to close my eyes and not watch. I couldn’t do that though, I had to see.

Tears of relief and joy filled my eyes as I took in the precious sight of a new little life, kicking and flipping and waving at me. The sound of a steady heart beat filled the room.

(I measured just at eleven weeks that day which was why my midwife had been unable to get the heart beat on the doppler a few days before.)

I was thrilled to have a little picture of our precious baby and to hear that new heart beat for the first time. It just never gets old. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the screen, watching the flipping and waving ¬†arms and legs going everywhere.

February 2 holds so many memories now‚ÄĒtears of grief and tears of sadness.

God is so good.

Coming August

August 23, 2015 (or a day around that time!) is a greatly antipated day for our family. We look forward to welcoming this new bundle into our family.

One-half dozen here we come. ūüėČ

XO,

The Personal Puzzle {31 Days of Life. Contained.}

Life Contained 2014 button

This post is part of a series called 31 Days of Life. Contained. Want to catch up on the entire series? Click here. Want to stay connected and not miss another post? Follow me on facebook.

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The kids are screaming in the backseat and Mom and Dad are staring at the 5.3 hours left on the ETA, ready to pull their hair out.

“Are we there yet?” “He’s touching my sleeve.” “I’m starving.” “There’s nothing to do.”¬†fills the air and turning on classical music doesn’t always help.

Mozart does not solve everything.

A diversion is desperately needed, but you have nothing in your car.

Sound familiar?

Ok, maybe this scenario will ring a bell.

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You are racing against the clock as you browse the clearance racks at Target. Lunch time was forty-five minutes ago, the normally scheduled nap time is in twenty, the baby needs to be nursed and you have a thirty minute drive home.

As a result, you’re shopping like a crazed woman. You are on a mission‚ÄĒhunting for bargains, browsing through the 70% off racks and stuffing necessary coupons in your pockets to give to the clerk later at checkout.

You’re doing it, though. You’re getting it done.

All noises have faded to mere background cacophany as you try to serve your family by being the best financial economist you can be, a true Proverbs 31 woman, a wise steward of your hard earned cash.

Then one lone cry pierces through your trance-like shopping expedition.

“Mommy, my pants are wet.”

Grrrreat. And you forgot to add a change of clothes for your three-year old to the diaper bag this morning.

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I’ve been there.

I’ve apologized to the Burlington Coat Factory employee as I sheepishly pointed out the wet puddle on the carpet behind me.

And at Babies R Us.

Yes, my face was pink.

It happens.

I’ve stripped my kids of their wet clothing and squeezed them into a size 2 diaper meant for a baby twenty pounds lighter than them. Or worse yet with no alternative action, I’ve simply lined their car seats with brown paper towels from the public bathroom and plopped their wet tushes down for the ride home.

I have totally been there.

Why do I find myself in these frustrating mom moments?

I’m not always as prepared as I should be.

After over a decade of motherhood and five kids, I’ve learned a few things along the way‚ÄĒmost of them from embarrassing issues like those mentioned above. Here’s my emergency zone to remedy these situations.

the personal puzzle

This is a handy dandy car organizer that I purchased on clearance at Target a few years back. It is stuffed with all the necessities of those life emergencies that we sometimes find ourselves in.

Puzzled about what to put in it?

creating a kid zone for the car

I have an extra change of clothing for my three youngest children (5, 3 and 1). This entails a full outfit change with socks‚ÄĒunderwear for the five and three year old.

Select a seasonally appropriate outfit and remember, it is a spare change of clothes in case of an emergency. Don’t pick an outfit that will be missed from their wardrobe.spare kids clothes in the car

Diapers and wipes for the baby. car storage for moms

Hand sanitizer and pocket tissues for dirt, germs and sticky situations.car organizer for mommies

Small toys, books and healthy snacks can also go a long way in maintaining peace while traveling. I try to select snacks that will handle storage in the car well, the elements and lots of bodies pressing in.

car organization for mommies

Here’s my complete list for surviving life with little ones while meeting their personal needs.mom storageThere you have it. My answer for solving the little personal puzzles in life…well, in my car, actually.

A car organizer for moms‚ÄĒbecause my purse just isn’t big enough for all of this. ūüėČ

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tip 23

Ever find yourself needing something personal? Do you have a dedicated spot for helping with those unexpected moments in life? Any other mortified moms out there? Take a moment to pack some extra gear in your car for emergency purposes. This post may have been written for mommies, but it really applies to anyone. What are some things in your life that you may need to have handy? Wipes. Snacks. Gum. Socks. Clean t-shirt. Tylenol. Create an emergency zone in your car to meet personal needs.

Thanks for reading,

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S5, E5: Flip Flop {The Birth Story of Baby #5}

Woo-hoo. It is Wednesday and we are about to have a baby any day now in our Delivery Drama¬†series. A baby, people!! If you are new to the blog or perhaps just this series, please take a moment to catch up on the previous posts in this mini-series. Each episode builds on the others, and reading the entire series will help today’s post make more sense. It’s completely up to you though. Here are the prior postings.

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Season 5, Episode 1; (Pilot)   Baby Five  -The history behind it all

Season 5, Episode 2; Life Line  -The famed purple box

Season 5, Episode 3: Big Mama -The nine month growth spurt

Season 5, Episode 4: Fair Plan -The pizza that failed

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flip flop

The alarm went off.

It was Wednesday, October 23, 2013, and I was still pregnant. To say that I was a bit discouraged over this fact would be putting it mildly. The dawning of my due date was 48 hours away and this thought alone heaped on tremendous anxiety. I needed to have this baby.

Yesterday’s adventure clearly did nothing for me. The thought of my failed attempt made me grumpy in spite of enjoying such a good night’s rest. The silver lining in this cloud would become clearer at a later time. For now, I was undeniably wallowing in self pity.

My frowny face is merely a result of nine months of accumulating hormones. I was thinking of a multitude of reasons and excuses for my blue mood as I lay there in the bed a few more moments.

I hefted myself into a sitting position and stood beside the bed a moment, just enjoying the darkness and quiet of our home.

My abdomen contracted. I rested a hand gently on my tummy as I waited for the tightening to pass.

Hmmm.

Oh well, another day, another Braxton Hicks. I was markedly determined to continue my morning disheartened -which was wrong, I know. (Ever been that pessimistic? If so, then you know exactly how I felt.) I shrugged off the pain, certain that I’d be overdue with this little one. There’s a first for everything, I thought glumly.

I walked down the hall and woke Bunny and Fuzz for school. It was 6:52 am.

I turned on the overhead lights to their room, called their names and called their names again. I was was not in a coddling mood. Forgive me.

Breakfast needed to be set out and lunches needed to be packed, so I walked back down the hall to the kitchen.

I’m still shuffling around in my pajamas at this point. If I would have had a bathrobe that actually fit my swollen state, I would have wrapped myself in it. The temperatures had dropped during the night and it was now freezing.

My hand was on the kitchen light switch when the next contraction hit. Again I took a moment to breath through it and then shook off this second “Braxton Hicks” to set out cereal bowls. I didn’t even note the time.

It’s nothing, I told myself.

The girls sleepily walked into the kitchen and after a brief prayer of blessing on the food and the day before us, they both began scarfing down their bowls. I shook my head. Cereal is probably the one of the top meals at our house, if you could call it that. Nothing like some carbs and dairy to start your day. ūüėČ

Now was time for the task that I sort of dislike and was clearly avoiding -packing lunches. Although admittedly, I didn’t mind it as much as I used to since we now had an organized lunch drawer.

I began assembling their lunches at the kitchen counter. The girls were laughing, and conversing somewhat loudly for seven o’clock in the morning. Food had obviously lifted their spirits and chased away any lingering sleepiness. I smiled.

However, my smile turned more to a grimace as another strong contraction took over me. I was so, so glad that my back was to the table. I looked at the clock. 7:01.

My breath caught. Is this it? Am I really in labor?

With contractions already at approximately five minutes apart, it was not a good sign. As a precaution, I scooped up everything necessary for the stuffing of their lunch boxes and joined the girls at the kitchen table.

I never, ever sit to pack lunches, but I was hoping for two things.

First, that sitting down would reveal whether or not this was true labor. I have found that Braxton Hicks will disappear if I move around a bit, a combined effort of walking and resting. Was this labor? I really needed to know. Pronto.

Second, if this was real labor pains, sitting would hopefully stave off any rapid progression in my labor. It was,¬†at the very least, worth my feeble attempt to try. It certainly wouldn’t hurt.

I continued to mask my pain as I worked my way through packing the lunch boxes. This normal morning distraction was both annoying and comforting. I couldn’t focus. Bunny had to tell me three times what she wanted for her morning snack. Gah.

Poor girls. Who knows what actually ended up in their lunch boxes that morning! I’d certainly not trust a woman in active labor to pack my lunch. But they didn’t know and it evidently didn’t hurt them either. Bless their hearts.

Thankfully, no one seemingly noticed or questioned my sitting in a chair. I said nothing about my contractions -not even to my husband when he entered the kitchen. No sense in scaring him until I was certain. I mean, really. I’d been having the occasional, yet strong Braxton Hicks for days. I wanted to be sure.

But what if I’m wrong though -and they’re not Braxton Hicks? What if the baby really is coming?¬†Time alone would tell. And just to be sure, I kept a close eyeball on the clock and a mental list running in my mind. ¬†7:06. 7:11. 7:15. 7:21. 7:26. You get the idea.

Trying to get two girls out the door for school, feeding two toddlers and attempting to sit as much as possible was not working out very well. I would gather and sign papers and then quickly sit back down. I stood back up to fix Fuzz’ hair, only to seek out my chair again as soon as I could. I’m not sure how I was even able to fix Bunny’s hair. In hindsight, headbands would have been so much faster. I could barely keep a straight face in front of my kids anymore. The pain and frequency was escalating faster than I thought possible.

the natural mama

I should have known at this point. And I probably should have told my husband. I have a lot of “probably should haves” from that morning.

However, my mind was totally zoned in on getting the older two settled safely at school. I would tell him later. Stupid plan, to be sure, but I was not thinking rationally at this point.

My mind was scrolling through a list of things that I needed to get done, things I needed to grab, and people I needed to call. Making sure our four older kids were where they needed to be was obviously at the top of our “we’re having the baby today” list. Sending Bunny and Fuzz off to school meant two down and only two more to go.

Relieved, I finally kissed the girls goodbye, planted a quick one on Hubs and closed the front door after them. It was 7:32 am.

My resolve to tell Hubs later went flying out the window, however, as the next contraction took over me. He needed to be told. Now. My fingers were shaking as I dialed his cell phone number.

“Hello.” (I love hearing his voice on the phone.)

“Hey,” I casually responded. “I just wanted to let you know that I think that I might be in labor. I wanted to let you know while you were out in case you wanted to swing by the church for any work that you might need later on today.”

I’m not sure why I felt like a disclaimer was warranted at this point. For crying out loud, the contractions were nearly bringing me to my knees. I guess that I didn’t want to shock him, after all this was news to him. Me, on the other hand, well, I’d already had over a half hour to adjust to the idea. Today really was the day.

Seriously, “I think I might be having a baby”?? That was the best you had?

Surely this little phone call was my “the time has come” moment if ever there was one -only I couldn’t quite muster the same theatrics as Desi Arnaz. My fumbling attempt came sputtering out much more in line with Lucille Ball’s – “Ricky, this is it” proclamation. (brownie points to everyone who has seen that episode of I Love Lucy)

“I might be in labor” was clearly the best that I could do¬†at the moment. Sorry, Babe.

I had no sooner hung up the phone when I knew.¬†There was no if, no maybe and no possibly. Strike that term “might” from the record-all doubt was gone.

Even though I didn’t call him back, I am so thankful for a husband who knows me better than I know myself. He wisely knew¬†that stopping by the church would be a terrible mistake and instead raced back home to assess my labor for himself.

And let me tell you, it was not pretty sight.

I was vaguely aware when Hubs entered the house and walked into our bedroom. Zip and Pop were wandering around the house, fed but still in their jammies. I , however, was sitting like a statue on the side of our bed, afraid to move, afraid to sit still, afraid for the next contraction to sweep over me.

And I was still in my pjs myself…bed hair completed my look. I told you it wasn’t pretty.

During a lull, I tilted my head back and glanced up at my husband. The look on Hubs face said it all. His eyes were mirroring what my body was telling me. We were running out of time.

Hubs began dressing the little ones and changing diapers like a mad man.

“How far apart?” he called tersely.

I knew exactly what he meant. And my mental list was still going strong. I checked the time once more.

“Ummmm….like three – four minutes.”¬†

Pure panic was what I was reading in Hubs’ eyes now.

“Babe, you’ve got to get dressed. I know that you don’t want to move nor do you feel like moving….but you have to. Now!”

A cattle prod may have been helpful.

But the desperation in his voice was enough to cajole me out of my stupor. I clumsily dressed at a snail’s pace. I just couldn’t move. The pressure from the baby was through the roof. It felt like my water could break at any moment and I certainly did not want that to happen, not here, not now.

I wanted greatly to be free to focus and manage my way through this natural pain called childbirth, but instead I was enduring the irritation of attempting to put clothes on and hunting down a hairbrush. Boy, was it slow going.

Every three to four minutes I was overwhelmed with agonizing contractions and during those delicious moments of relief between the waves of pain, I wanted to do nothing but to sit and bask in the reprieve, to steady myself for the next round. But time was not allowing me that luxury, the clock was not my friend.

Hubs, on the other hand, was working circles around me. He was hastily grabbing all of our last minute items from around the house and keeping an eye on the kiddos while making a few important phone calls.

I could hear Hubs’ voice calmly explaining my situation to our babysitter and telling him to just meet us at the exit off of I-85. I straightened my top and denim skirt and sat back down on the bed, dragging a brush through my hair. Make-up was a mere pipe dream at this point. Styled hair -well, that was downright laughable. (How I managed both with Zip’s birth I’ll never know.)

Only I wasn’t laughing. By now, I was softly moaning.

Hubs came hurrying back into the bedroom.

“Ok, we really need to leave, Hon. What can I do to help you? Can I get you some shoes?”

(He’s just the greatest, is he not?)

“I want my flip flops.”

Flip flops are easy to put on, it’s true. But in my heart, I was planning ahead. What if….?

What if I needed to kick my shoes off in a hurry? What if they needed to, ahem, be sanitized later? Yes, flip flops were the best choice all around.

Hubs brought me my shoes and then left to buckle our two little ones in their car seats. I awkwardly stuffed my feet in the flip flops and sat there looking at my feet. It was a surreal moment.

Nothing was going as planned. It seemed as if every fear that I’d ever dreamed possible was now playing a major role in the events of my morning. Unbelievable.

having a baby

I needed to focus on the good thoughts. I was about to give birth to my fifth child. The details were still undecided, sure, but the chances were strong that I’d have a new baby in just a few hours -definitely by lunch. While I certainly didn’t need to be pinched to believe it, I was in awe. Five kids….soon.

Reflection time ended as another contraction knocked me over like a tidal wave. I felt more than saw my husband reenter the room.

“The kids are in the car. I have everything we need. We’re just waiting for you. Come on, Babe. I’ll help you to the car. You can do this.”

Bless his heart.

With Hubs’ hand on the small of my back, supporting me, I began tottering my way out of our house, swaying like a drunken sailor and grabbing the walls as I went. The pressure was just¬†indescribable. With each step I took, the more I felt like the baby was going to just fall out on the floor in front of me. Cute waddling was a thing of the distant past. There was and is no term for the¬†my promenade out the front door.

And I was still moving at the rate of an expiring turtle. (No, I’ve never seen one, but that pretty much sums up my speed. Trust me. If you ever see one, you’ll think of me and this moment.)

Ever so slow.

My heart was racing and I literally felt like I was going to be sick.

I stepped outside to an extremely cloudy and overcast morning. It looked like it could rain at any minute, and the wind was whipping at my skirt and pulling back my hair. The fact that I was freezing and probably needed a coat didn’t even register.

Somehow, I managed to make my way down the front steps. Hubs reached around me to open the car door to the passenger seat. From inside the open door, I could see Pop sitting directly behind my seat and Zip silently observing me from her perch on the back row. They were as quiet as mice -highly unusual. I’m sure that they sensed that something was about to happen.

I hesitated briefly, eyeing my chair. I hated to say it, but I had to.

“Hubs, ummm,…….we’re gonna need the emergency birth kit ready. Let’s cover my seat and the floor at my feet -just as precaution.”

Wordlessly, he spread out the necessary plastic and helped settle me on it. Then he shut the door.

It was 8:30 am. Had it really only been roughly an hour and a half since that first twinge?

Let me just stop right here and say that there really are no words to adequately describe the myriad of emotions that was threatening to overthrow me. I am speechless. Fear, pain, disbelief, excitement and more pain barely even scrape the surface.

I watched as Hubs ran around the car, opened his car door and climbed in. I could feel another contraction beginning to peak. Practically simultaneously, Hubs shut his door, started the van and put the gears in reverse.

He hadn’t even touched his foot to the gas pedal when I began gasping for air.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! No, no, no. Aw, Babe, my water’s breeeaking.”¬† As a good southern girl, I can certainly belt out a rebel yell any ol’ day, but I was desperately trying to not scar my sweet children sitting behind me. Not that I’ve ever yelled during labor, but their presence was certainly cramping any possibilities. Instead my¬†outburst was a somewhat of a cross between a stunned declaration and a helpless whimper.

We hadn’t even left our driveway, our DRIVEWAY, and we had a long stretch of interstate driving ahead of us. And morning work traffic.

45 minutes to be exact. Yes, that number had certainly returned to haunt us.

The van was still rolling backwards and I was already kicking off my wet shoes.

Niiice.

Forget the flip-flops. My heart was managing those just fine.

-to be continued-

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Here are the links to the following episodes. ūüôā

Season 5, Episode 6: Wild Ride -The 45 minute attempt

Season 5, Episode 7: News Baby -The drama of television

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Thanks for reading.

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