It’s National Rainbow Baby Day. It’s a day to celebrate the babies that came after the storm. We have three in our family. Three boys that came after three went to Heaven.
In the summer of 2010 we said goodbye to our triplet sons. We had our beautiful 2-year-old son, and tried to deal with the news that he would most likely be our one and only. But our story didn’t end there. Through the power of prayer and medical intervention I was holding a beautiful baby boy again in the summer of 2012. I looked into his eyes and felt pure joy and unimaginable pain in the same moment. I have grieved that moment over and over for the last eleven years.
I never want Gavin to feel that I experienced anything but pure love and thankfulness for his life. But it was so complicated for me. Welcoming him was a kind of hard I never expected. I knew I was suppose to be so happy to have him in my arms, but the grief knocked the breath right out of me.
I missed the three babies that came before him. He was beautiful and amazing, but there I was sobbing and hurting so very much.
I haven’t shared much about the weeks following his birth, but I can admit now that I shut down. I sobbed while I nursed him, I cried alone in my closet, and I sat on the edge of the bed at night wondering what was wrong with me. Wasn’t this exactly what I had prayed for every single day since the boys passed away? I was given the chance to carry a baby and to hear his cries at birth instead of deafening silence. I had been given a rainbow baby and everyone said that was going to be magical. Instead I was depressed, anxious, and felt disconnected from my sweet baby.
Having a rainbow baby isn’t, well, sunshine and rainbows at all. It’s more like a tornado that brings every emotion at the same time. I realized in the weeks that followed Gavin’s birth that I was almost paralyzed with the fear that I would lose him too and that was what was causing so much of the emotional turmoil I was feeling.
I realized I was living in a different world than most people I know. In my world sometimes a mother’s love isn’t enough. In my world, babies don’t always come home from the hospital. In my world sometimes grief sneaks into the most beautiful moments.
When I realized it was normal to experience the grief alongside the joy, everything changed. I could honor our loss without taking anything away from the deep love and joy I was feeling for my beautiful, new son.
In the summer 2015 we welcomed another rainbow baby and I was better prepared. Pregnancy and birth still brought the big feelings, but I was in a place where I better understood what it meant to be parenting after loss.
In the summer of 2018 we once again welcomed a healthy baby boy into our family. This time through adoption. It was July 25th, the exact day that we welcomed our first rainbow baby six years earlier. Our double rainbow day. That first rainbow baby moment back in 2012 had come full circle. I was in an entirely different place and was no longer battling the delicate balance of our loss. I was confident in the way I was parenting our boys and actually thankful for the perspective our loss has provided. I truly appreciate so many seemingly insignificant moments with my children because I will never get to experience them with three of my boys.
I love that parents like myself can celebrate our rainbow babies, but I feel it’s important to share about the tougher parts of falling into this category of parenthood too. It’s okay to remember the ones we lost and celebrate the ones we hold at the same time.
I will forever be Mom to seven. Four in my arms and three in Heaven.
Birthday week is one of our family’s favorite times of the year. Three of our boys and my husband all have birthdays during the last week of July. Two of our boys even share the exact same birthday! I love birthdays so much, so by the end of the week I’m usually completely exhausted from trying to make sure all four of my guys feel extra special with little surprises here and there. It’s always totally worth it to see how excited and loved they feel.
Every year I try to come up with new, fun ways to make birthday week exciting for the whole family. This year I found the coolest way to celebrate, and it was so easy! I contacted Pinnacle Pop Up Cards about doing a yard sign for the boys and it was a HUGE hit! We woke up on the day of the double birthday and the most perfect display was waiting in the front yard. The boys were over the moon excited to know that the whole neighborhood knew it was their special day. They couldn’t believe that they got a “giant birthday card.” My husband loved it too and we had a great time taking pictures of our four birthday boys with their special yard greeting.
Of course I have seen other people celebrate with yard signs, but I had no idea how much fun it would be. Hannah, the owner of Pinnacle Pop Up Cards, was amazing to work with. I have no idea how she picked out such perfect pieces to add to our display, but each of the boys were represented well by the decorations she put together.
Hannah has been in Northwest Arkansas for 10 years. During the pandemic she heard about yard display businesses and thought it would be a great way to express herself creatively but also safely during a pandemic. Her favorite part is being able to truly customize setups for clients to give them exactly what they want. Pinnacle Pop Up Cards can do birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, baby showers, events, and whatever other special occasions you might have.
Pinnacle Pop Up Cards is an affordable option for anyone wanting a way to celebrate big without breaking the bank. I loved the fact that I didn’t have to do a thing. Hannah came up with the great design, and set it all up. We enjoyed the display for a day and then she came back and took it all down. So easy for such a cool way to celebrate!
You can do any sort of personal message you’d like to order, and they just added an inflatable you can reserve as well. What a great way to add some extra fun to your celebration. No matter what you are celebrating you can be sure that Hannah will help you bring a little extra joy and a bunch of big smiles to the special day!
You can check Pinnacle Pop Up Cards on Facebook or Instagram or head over to their website at www.pinnaclepopupcardsnwa.com to get more information or book right now. Happy celebrating!
This is a sponsored post. My review reflects my honest opinion after using the service provided by this business.
Let’s be honest, raising kids is amazing, but there are times it feels like you’ve been hit by a train. I’ve been feeling like that a lot lately navigating four kids, and balancing their needs from toddler to teenager. So when I was literally hit by a train yesterday I wasn’t too surprised. In an instant it drove up my hair and wound it tightly into the wheels. As I sat for 30 minutes waiting for my hubby to get home so he could take the train apart to release my hair, I was able to see the humor in the situation. I’d been praying for clarity and peace with some tough parenting decisions this week. I have been stressed and anxious, sleeping poorly, and just more grumpy than I’d like to be. The train was kind of like God was answering by showing me that even when the random, tough moments happen there is always a choice to laugh and smile through it. We can dwell on the tough parts of parenthood (and life in general) or we can embrace them and seek out the joy in the chaos. The pain and trials are short-lived and I’m reminded once again that there is always something beautiful to be found in the messy parts of life.
I’m a couple of years into my journey with four kids. Four boys to be exact. Most people instantly want to “bless my heart” when they realize my husband and I are raising an above average number of kids. Some days are really tough, and I collapse into bed wondering how I managed to keep them all fed and safe. But I’ve also learned there are some pretty great things about having four kids too.
The kids always have three other people to play with. My kids range from 13 years-old to two years-old, and I love watching how they spend time with each of their siblings doing different activities. There is no need to stress about scheduling play dates either. They are getting all the social skills practice they need right at home.
The buddy system. Having an even number of children means that everyone has a partner to hold hands with as we cross the parking lot. As they get older, everyone has a built in roller-coaster riding partner, or someone to play catch with.
They are learning independence more quickly. Let’s face it, I just can’t do as much for my kids now that I have four. I remember waiting on my oldest hand and foot. I wanted everything to be perfect for him. I still want everything to be great for them, but they know how to help themselves. Dressing themselves, packing their things, and being responsible for checking their backpacks for homework is helping them to be more responsible. A lesson that will serve them well as they grow up.
I actually spend less time preparing things. When I had one or two kids I had way more time to stress about the details. I packed and re-packed the diaper bag before we left. Now I know that taking the basics is good enough. Being flexible is key. I know that things might not go according to plan, and that’s okay.
They have a built in lifetime support system. Who doesn’t want three super-fans cheering you on as you step up to bat at your baseball game? When the baby reaches a new milestone, one of the big kids makes an awesome shot at the basketball goal in the driveway, or someone rides their bike for the first time without training wheels, the volume of the cheers and excitement that erupts is pretty much priceless. Long after my husband and I are gone, our children will have a team of people surrounding them who have experienced alongside and supported them through all of life’s challenges and victories.
The list of awesome things about having four kids could go on and on. It’s a crazy life filled with trimming 40 fingernails at a time, washing a minimum of 28 outfits a week, and making sure four sets of teeth are brushed 120 times a month…but it’s a life we wouldn’t trade for anything.
Parents of four kids…what do you love about having four?
It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when four little boys didn’t fill our house with noise and laughter. There was a time when the silence was deafening, a time when the worry of never having children sat like a dark cloud overhead. There was a time when we had finally given life to a child, but couldn’t give him a sibling. Then came a time when three little miracles grew inside my womb together, but came far too soon and slipped away. There was a time when one was going to have to be ‘good enough’ because trying for more might not be safe. There was a time before two little brothers came along after years of seeing only one pink line on the stick while trying for each of them. A time before another woman gave birth to our last baby. Those times were grueling. They were filled with defeat, dread, and the kind of heartache that changes you. I turn away from the hurt and sadness we once knew, but it will always be a part of us.
In April of 2008 I looked into his eyes and I knew I had been right all along. I was put on this Earth to be a mommy. Our son, Josey, was a beautiful, healthy baby that had been carefully placed into our lives. My husband, Mike, and I married at 18 years old and although I had my ‘I need a baby’ moments, we waited to begin trying until almost 4 years later, after I graduated college and landed my first teaching job. Struggling for years to get pregnant caught us by surprise. By the grace of God and a little medical intervention, we welcomed our first son into our family.
Around the time of Josey’s first birthday, we decided we wanted to try for another baby. Our plan was always to have more than one child. Once again, my body just couldn’t do what I wanted most. The process was even more difficult and heartbreaking this time, but we finally found ourselves expecting once again.
In June of 2010, at eleven weeks pregnant, we had an appointment to have our first ultrasound to make sure the pregnancy was going well. When the doctor started the ultrasound, I instantly knew I saw more than one baby on the giant flat-screen. As I tried to speak, nothing came out. Finally, I said, “Is there more than one?” The doctor looked up and said, “Yes, It’s TRIPLETS.” I cannot describe the thoughts and feelings I was flooded with at that moment. My mind was racing. I reached for my husband’s hand and he just held on as we waited to see if we had three viable babies. We returned for another ultrasound a few weeks later. We saw three healthy and active babies safe inside. To say we were relieved was an understatement.
The very next day at 8:39 a.m., our second-born son, Johnny, was born at home. As I write this a decade later, it still doesn’t seem real. I woke up with some discomfort at 15 weeks along with our precious triplets. I called the doctor’s office and waited for a callback. I delivered Johnny at home about 30 minutes later. We were transported by ambulance to the hospital. I cannot describe the fear I felt as I rode in the ambulance, thinking I was losing all of my babies. In the ER, the doctor did an ultrasound and found two heartbeats safe inside. My cervix had suddenly dilated, causing me to lose Johnny. To this day, I do not know why that happened. Mike and I chose to hold our sweet little boy and I spent about 30 minutes with him in my arms. We are both so glad we chose to do that. He was tiny but beautifully made. Letting go of Johnny was the hardest thing I had ever had to do. Each day that followed was spent waiting for an ultrasound to see if the other two babies were still okay. I had to have a cerclage to ensure my cervix would not spontaneously open again. Unfortunately, the placenta never delivered with the baby. I was pumped full of antibiotics to prevent infection and placed on bed rest indefinitely. My grief was overwhelming, but I tried with all my heart to be strong for my two unborn babies.
16 days after delivering Johnny, I woke up cramping. I told myself all day the worst was not happening. At 1:30 the next morning, I accepted that it was. Mike drove me to the hospital, both of us begging God for it to be something else. My contractions were less than a minute apart for over two hours. It was the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life. My cervix had been sewn shut and was trying to open to let the babies come out. We were told the stitches had to be removed, but that doing so would most certainly cause us to lose both babies. About that time, Jaxsen decided he couldn’t wait, and he was born. Nothing could stop him, not even ‘unbreakable’ stitches. I was in and out of awareness for a while but still in extreme pain. I was moved to the operating room and our doctor came in to deliver the third baby and get my bleeding under control. The last thing I heard was, because the cervix ripped and they did not know the extent of the damage, I might have to have a complete hysterectomy. It was terrifying. Thankfully they were able to deliver our fourth-born son, Asher, and save my fertility. We were able to spend about an hour holding the babies after I recovered. They were perfect, sleeping angels.
Our biggest fear had become reality. I had developed a uterine infection that made it impossible for the babies to stay inside any longer. The infection moved into my blood system and caused me to become quite sick. We left the hospital 5 days later with nothing more than three little memory boxes. I did not know how I would continue to breathe except for the fact there was a little boy at home waiting for his mommy to return.
The emptiness that surrounded us after our loss was almost unbearable. I can’t put into words what it was like to picture and plan for a house full of children only to have that dream vanish entirely. Our house was supposed to be noisy, busy, and full of children’s laughter. Instead, we clung desperately to our then two-year-old and mourned the loss of a life we might never have.
Two years later, after medical treatments, surgical procedures, and more prayers than I thought possible, we welcomed our rainbow baby. When Gavin let out a big cry and was placed in my arms in 2012, I exhaled for what felt like the first time in nine months. My body hadn’t failed me that time, and we left the hospital with a healthy baby boy. Three years and four days later, we welcomed our second rainbow baby after enduring the same process once more. Parker Jack came into our lives and made us the proud parents of three boys in our arms and three in Heaven.
Flash forward to the spring of 2018. I turned 35 in March… an age I set for us to be done having children. Our oldest child turned 10 and it seemed like the baby stage of our life was naturally ending. I would be lying if I said I didn’t wonder if we were really done. I started imagining getting pregnant again. “Should we try just one more time? Is it too dangerous?” My medical condition makes each additional pregnancy a little riskier, and we have no way of knowing if I would be able to carry another baby successfully. I started praying for a sign. A clear answer. And boy did I get one.
In mid-April, the night before our oldest turned 10, I was informed of a birth-mother who was set on adoption and wanted her baby to go to a family with children. She was looking for an experienced couple who could give her child a life she never had. Someone who knew our hearts for adoption suggested we meet her. I thought of how, in the early days after our loss, we began talking about adoption. It was placed on both of our hearts and really never left our thoughts. Over the years, we had both mentioned it at times. We never had the chance to give our triplets the beautiful life they deserved. The thought of being able to do just that for a child in need of a forever family kept our hearts open to the idea.
Adoption doesn’t just happen though. People wait years and spend tens of thousands of dollars on agency adoptions to connect with a birth-mother. I just couldn’t imagine this would happen for us. We had not been planning or saving for adoption at all. Was it even possible to adopt with the impending due date only 12 weeks away? I had no idea where to begin, but somewhere deep down inside, I just couldn’t shake the idea. We talked through the financial side, the impact this would have on our boys, and all the details we could think of. We ultimately decided to take a huge leap of faith and see where the journey took us. Soon after that, we found out the baby’s due date was July 20th, the day we lost the first of our babies. I remember laughing as I thought, ‘Okay, God, I hear you loud and clear.’ This was the journey our family was meant to be on. If there is one thing that is for certain, it is our life together has never played out the way we have expected. We’ve been thrown so many curve balls while building our family, we know better than to assume we know what is around the corner. So we took a shaky step toward pursuing adoption. Then we took another. And another.
I always say our love for our children is so big because it has to reach all the way to Heaven. We knew we could give this child a life full of snuggles, kisses, silly jokes, big brothers with hearts the size of Texas, and a Mommy and Daddy who love with a fierceness not easily put into words. We could give this child the life his biological mom dreamed of for her baby.
Doors continued to open and in three weeks, we were sitting in front of an amazing young girl, who after an hour of talking with her, chose us to parent her child. The paperwork, doctor’s visits, home study preparations, home study visits, and planning kept us moving at a whirlwind pace. We found out the baby was a boy a few weeks before he arrived. We were so happy… and not surprised at all. Parenting boys is kind of our thing.
On July 25th, what we now lovingly refer to as our Double Rainbow Day, our seventh son was born on his big brother’s birthday. Six years to the day after welcoming our first rainbow baby, our family welcomed another reminder of the beauty that can come after a storm. When Mike and I met him, he was snuggled tightly in his birth mother’s arms. With a smile on her face, this sweet, young girl placed her baby in my trembling arms. I don’t know if words could ever do justice to that moment. My heart shattered and rejoiced at the same time. I wanted this baby so much. Mike and I had planned and prayed and loved this boy for only a few weeks, but he was ours in every sense of the word.
Eight days after his birth, we sat before a judge and vowed to love and care for Jensen always. A chapter in our family’s story that started a mere 12 weeks earlier drew to a close as we walked out of the judge’s chambers as the proud parents of seven boys. Three of our boys have brought love and joy to our lives over the last twelve years. Three of them changed the entire course of our lives when they went to Heaven. They constantly push us to be the best parents we can be. And one tiny little baby came into our lives when we least expected it and showed us the true meaning of sacrifice, hope, and family. We finally have the crazy, chaotic, beautiful, full life we have dreamed of for so long.
Lazer Lee Photography
When you see our family now, I hope you see the joy and beauty that came out of our battle. I hope you see how we made peace with the cards we were dealt, and how we made our own path. Most importantly I hope you see hope. After all, it’s the thing that got us to this place.
We went to the park. It’s cold and drizzly and I’m exhausted, but we went anyway. Today didn’t start out very great. The perfect balance and preparedness it takes to get us to work and four kids to school with everything they need proved to be unattainable today. The wheels fell off the whole operation before 7:30 am.
I got to work frustrated and feeling a little defeated. Then this afternoon I met an older Mom in the Aldi parking lot, who after apologizing to me for parking too close as I tried to squish myself into my car, shared that she was distracted because she was having a tough day in motherhood herself. Her daughters are in college and she was dealing with stress, disappointment, and worry about something that happened with them.
I have no idea why she sat there talking to a total stranger except that I offered a smile and a “no problem” when she apologized. I’m so glad she did though. She helped me remember that this crazy stage ranging from daycare to junior high that we’re living in won’t last forever. Soon enough my four will be grown and I’ll be dealing with a whole different set of motherhood challenges. So we went to the park and I watched them laugh and play, and none of the hard parts of today mattered anymore.
I’ve been so consumed with the stress of being stuck in the house with four bored kids for a week straight, the worry of possible frozen pipes and power outages, and trying to keep the kids learning and myself working that I almost missed something so important.
Friends, we have been given direct instructions from the powers that be to NOT do any laundry. Not only should we not do it, but it’s the best way we can help ensure that our communities do not lose power from an overloaded system in this crazy winter storm. So today there will be no shame when you walk by the baskets spilling laundry onto the floor, no fussing at your teenagers to wash their smelly clothes, and no feeling like you should be getting caught up on laundry instead of relaxing on the couch.
In this not-so-much-better-than-2020 year we’re living in where we’ve been introduced to another thing to hate with “forced rolling blackouts” we are going to embrace this freeing gift we have received and let that laundry sit as we proudly celebrate the way we are doing our part for one another.
Disclaimer: if you live somewhere that hasn’t been affected by this snowpocalypse I’m pretty sure you are still entitled to this laundry-free time because surely your support of our cause is essential.
Every year at Christmas time I get the urge to go through the kids’ playroom and get rid of some of the toys they never touch. There are more toys than the four of them could ever reasonably play with. While I’m thankful that we were able to buy them things, and they received cool toys from friends and family for birthdays, sometimes the sheer amount of toys in overwhelming. I like everything to have a place, so even though I hate getting rid of things they might play with one day, donating or reselling things at the holidays is a great way to feel okay about adding some new toys.
When I was looking through toys this year, I thought about the toys that get tons of use in our house and make great gifts for kids. I thought I’d share which toys, at least for our kids, are favorites and have been awesome over the years. We do have all boys, but most of these toys are great for any kid. Hope this helps if you are looking for some great toys to gift the kiddos in your life this year!
The best investment. Our big kids even love to jump on a ride-on toy and race the littles around the house. So many laughs well beyond the toddler years.
I’ll be sure to add to this list as I think of more, but that’s a good start. I hope your kiddos will find the same amount of fun that our boys did with these toys.
He was perfect. Yes, at fourteen and a half weeks, perfect. He had his Pawpaw’s feet and already looked so much like his big brother. At first, it was confusing. He didn’t look sick, he was beautifully formed. I kept thinking, “just put him back. He will be fine.” My mind just couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that one minute I was happily pregnant with triplets and the next minute I was holding a tiny, lifeless baby in my arms.
A few weeks later, I found myself living the nightmare once again. In the early hours of the morning, I once again held a tiny baby who no longer drew breath. This time there were two. Two more beautiful little boys who never got to run, play, or grow old. Just like that my womb was empty and my heart was shattered.
What I didn’t know then was that one in four women will experience the loss of their baby. While each story is unique, there is one thing we share. Those of us parenting after loss will so often be taken back to the day our baby died. A moment of joy or grief will sweep in and transport us back to that moment we lost everything.
I’ve come to realize that as hard as I try, I can’t go back to the day before my baby died. I search my memories for that naive happiness I once felt, but it is no where to be found. When your baby dies you experience things that will forever change you.
On the day my babies died…
Our son’s little brothers died. All of the snuggles, disagreements, wrestling matches, and hugs they would share disappeared.
I felt my babies kick inside my womb even though they had been gone for hours.
Milk leaked down the front of my hospital gown while I sobbed and begged for someone to make it stop.
I begged God to take my life instead.
My husband put aside his pain to comfort me. On the outside he was calm and steady, but on the inside he was flooded with rage and heartache.
I sang ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ to each baby as I held them tight and committed every detail of their tiny faces to my memory.
A woman I’d never met covered my babies with a blanket and rolled them away for the last time as I stared in disbelief.
A thousand other memories from that day will stay with me for all my days.
You see, my babies weren’t all that died that summer. The “me” I was before died too. I’m not the mom, wife, or person I was before their lives were cut short. Ten years later I’m still not sure if I’d say something broke inside me or if the grief simply unleashed something that was there all along. The death of my babies forever changed me.
In a way, I am stronger. When facing challenges, big and small, I often channel the strength I used to pull myself out of that dark, lonely time. I remind myself that whatever I’m facing could never be as bad as losing my children. I literally survived the worst, so daily battles don’t discourage me.
I’m also grateful for every moment I have with my children. I don’t mean to imply that people who haven’t experienced loss aren’t, but I look at my four boys every day and know without a doubt that I am blessed beyond measure. On the days that being a mom seems to be just too much, I remind myself that it is a privilege to parent these sweet little people.
I share this now because it matters. It matters to the woman, who as I type, is sitting in a hospital bed as her baby draws his last breath. It matters to the woman who can’t get out of bed because the pain is too much. It matters to the man who is fighting for his marriage because he and his wife don’t know how to communicate with each other with the grief that is so raw and new. It matters to the older couple who wonder what their daughter might have been doing if she would have had the chance to grow into an adult.
As I held my boys those warm, summer mornings, I promised each of them I would share them with the world. Their impact in this life is different than I had hoped, but so very important. If sharing my story provides comfort to even one person experiencing pregnancy or infant loss, then it is a story that deserves to be told.
I want survivors of pregnancy and infant loss to know it is okay to be changed by the experience. It is okay to handle the grief any way that they see fit. Each story of loss is filled with unique twists and turns. There is no one-size-fits-all way to handle the loss of your child.
Tomorrow I will head back to work after five long months staying home with the boys. Even with the uncertainty and worry of going back to school, sending the boys to on-site school, and the baby starting daycare for the first time ever, I have felt ready. Ready to get back to being “me.” The mom of four who also works full-time. The woman who leads a building full of teachers to improve math instruction for all students. To get back to a job that I love.
So this morning took me by surprise. I have shed more than a few tears after dropping the oldest off at football practice and sitting down for one more slow morning of snuggling and watching tv with the little guys. I didn’t expect to feel so emotional thinking back over the last five months. I didn’t expect to feel so nervous to get back out into the world, but it’s all hitting me today. I have been hesitant to weigh-in on the virtual school vs. on-site school options because everyone has their own unique situation to consider. My kids are going to school because that’s where I will be. It’s also where I want them to be. Where my boys thrive and grow best. But am I nervous they’ll get sick? Yes. Am I nervous we won’t even make it a week before we are back to virtual school? Also yes. But that’s not why my heart is aching this morning.
I have done my fair share of complaining, yelling, and crying over the last few months. Staying home with four little boys from ages 1-12 wasn’t easy for this mom. Most days from March to May, I loathed virtual schooling and longed to go back to school/work. I struggled to get any work done in my job as math coach while helping the kids with their classwork, keeping the preschooler busy, and chasing an energetic and destructive one-year-old. I just wanted to be around adults and have grown-up conversations. I have worked outside the home since I was fourteen. I took short maternity leaves with each baby, but quickly returned to work because that’s who I am. I have never idealized the role of stay-at-home mom. I saw my mom do it with five kids, and I know it is insanely hard. Although my children are my world, staying home for two months in the summer is always great for me and I’m ready to go back to school each fall.
Then June and July came and went. Our days were less structured, but there were no waterparks to visit, no vacations to take and no fun adventures beyond the backyard and a few trails around town. With social distancing and keeping our family as safe as possible, it just wasn’t the summer I normally get to have with the kids. Fun summer off-work mom was more like same-old-mom who’s been on our backs for three months already. We did share some fun together, but the day in and day out of being home felt heavy most days.
So why am I sad, if we all so desperately want to get back to whatever “normal” looks like now? Because I just got to spend 5 months with my kids. Just being their mom and loving them the best way I know how. I didn’t have to entrust their care to someone else, I didn’t have to worry if they were safe or feeling okay. I didn’t have to rush home from work to scramble them from activity to activity. We baked cookies way too often, did fun home improvement projects, played in the sprinkler, and grew even closer as a family. I watched the boys pair off with different brothers depending on what their interest was that day. I got to sip my coffee while listening to their giggles and watching them show off their newest (wrestling/singing/dancing/ninja) skills. I was there to hug the four-year-old when it all felt like too much and the sadness of missing his friends at preschool was so heavy for him. I rubbed the seven-year-old’s back when the school writing assignment caused him to stress about spelling words correctly. I was there to see for myself every time the baby learned something new or said an adorable new phrase. And I was moved to tears more than once watching the twelve-year-old turn into such a grown person right in front of my eyes. He effortlessly helped me care for his little brothers, keep the house clean, and always knew when I just needed a break. He has always been a nurturer and my right hand man when Daddy isn’t here, but he grew into something much more the last few months. Despite the pre-teen moments (yes we had plenty of those too), I’m pretty sure he’s going to be a pretty good adult one day.
So today, I’m going to let the tears fall. They tell a story of the toughest, yet most rewarding parenting months of my life. Tomorrow I will put on a smile and excitedly look forward to working once again, but if you see a tear or two slide down onto my mask, just know I am a Mom who got a little too attached to staying home with her four amazing kids and needs a little time to get used to being “just Allison” for eight hours a day once again.
