When change is afoot

I've been thinking a lot about family size and shape recently. As June drawers ever closer and with it the exciting/terrifying prospect of welcoming a whole new person into our gang, I have been considering it more and more.

A while ago I found this article about how apparently higher rates of family satisfaction can be achieved depending on configuration of gender and the amount of children. It's been playing on my mind ever since...

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/mother-tongue/8429386/Want-to-be-happy-have-two-daughters.html

The study surveyed many different families with different configurations of gender and number, then ranked them from best to worst in terms of happiness and satisfaction with their lot in life.

Interestingly enough, according to this study the  #1 configuration to have is two daughters. Families with this combination typically report higher levels of harmonious living and general satisfaction.

I had to laugh when I read that, particularly when I realized that adding a third child into the mix (and a boy to boot!) Actually lowers us down to #7 on the list!!

Now I should clarify that I set absolutely no store by this study at all. I think it could never be especially accurate on such a subjective matter as family life. Particularly as it looks to simplify and catorgarize something which is fundamentally unwieldy and complicated.

Feelings and emotions can change so rapidly. Also i'm interested to know exactly who they surveyed, even within a single family, parents and kids could have radically different feelings.

Of course, any time you change the family dynamic by having another baby is pretty nerve-racking. I remember being pregnant with Sylvie and worrying way too much about the effect having a sister so close in age would have on Clara.

As its turned out they are incredibly close and their budding relationship makes me laugh and cry fairly frequently.

 

Looking at how great they are together made me feel like it was a fantastic idea to have another baby to add to their little sibling party rather than that I should leave things well enough alone and avoid rocking the boat. (Maybe it's because I'm an optimist, I don't know!)

I am one of three, two boys and one girl (that configuration only makes it to #8 on the list but hey who's counting?!) As far as I'm concerned it was a fantastic environment to grow up in and I wouldn't have changed it for the world.

(well maayybbbe just for a little sister but that would have sent us plummeting to #11 so perhaps it was all for the best that dad went for the snip instead)

Of course there will be challenges along the way but let's just assume for a second that there are many many more factors than gender and number which come into how a family survives and thrives. 

That being said, as parents we are not superhuman and there must be some truth to the idea that the more children you have, the harder it becomes to give intentional one on one time and space and to individually cater towards children's needs.

But I hope that this doesn't have to be at the expense of positive family life.

Meanwhile in our family we have been trying to lay the groundwork a bit for the changes that are afoot. Particularly with Clara who has a pretty good understanding about the process.

It will still be a shock for them both I'm sure but we're choosing to believe that what might be lost in terms of one to one time will be more than made up for by the excitement and love the girls will have for their little brother, and the way that these relationships will grow and develop through the years.

The months between.

Grace this morning looks like sunlight filtering through the window, a hot cup of tea and a silent house.

Just moments ago it  was filled with whining and snot and the very sudden and real need for two small bottoms to occupy the SAME potty (even though we have at least 3 others).
and now, bliss.

How did I get here?

Last night at 8:30 I went into the shower and locked the door, tears running down my face. I could still hear the sound of the girls exhausted crying over the running water. Matt had just arrived home and tagged into what was fast becoming the longest and worst bedtime ever.

I wont go into details of why, mainly because they are boring. But suffice it to say that the delicate bedtime balance had been disturbed and now we were paying the price.

Yesterday evening I had come very much to the end of my limited resources. Now this actually hasn't happened very often in the three years I've been a mum, indeed I've often been amazed by the ability to push through the very hardest bits of parenthood, buoyed on by love and hormones.

Not this time.

This time as water and tears mingled I examined my thoughts. How had I come this close to (what felt like) the edge of sanity and not even realised?
I felt completely drained.

 Like I couldn't give anymore of myself.
That no amount of love could make up for the strange grief that had taken hold of me.
all that I had left was tears and water.

I haven't written much this year. Or at least I haven't shared much. If i'm being honest the reason is very simple; Over the past year we said goodbye to and buried two little nieces.

Isla Jean was Matts sisters little girl
 Bethany Grace my brothers.

Both were stillborn. Isla last July, the day before Sylvie turned one. Bethany just last month after a terminal diagnosis in January.

Greif is a strange thing. Especially for the ones we never got to meet.

It has been a complicated season, with many questions and a lot of pain.

In the midst of it all we found out that I was pregnant again. Our son is due to arrive next month which is still wonderful and surreal all at the same time.
We are so aware of the blessing of a healthy baby and so grateful for him.

Yet much of this pregnancy for me has been marked by an unspoken and deeply painful feeling of guilt.

I will never forget the tears running down my face in the waiting room for my 16 week midwife appointment as I saw the first scan picture of precious Bethany after her diagnosis. There was also vulnerability on a new scale as I was forced to face grief at work.

At one point I was signed off, something that has never happened to me before but entirely necessary as I desperately tried to process the grief. Much as I hated to concede any weakness, my mental health had to take priority. 

I have tried really hard to ignore the questions that have bubbled up in my heart around fairness and excess. Tried to separate my grief for the little ones that we didn't get to bring home from the joy of a healthy pregnancy.

I have tried to stop these feelings,

but I have failed.

I am now trying, somehow to live with these parallels of intense joy and pain in the best way I can.
In the way that we all are.

This is the stuff of life. Often it makes no sense and pain is so much a part of the journey. But I have been inspired, (especially by my brother and sister in law) that God does answer these questions we ask. That he is faithful in the midst of it all.

For who better to understand the pain and the joy than Jesus, our laughing, weeping saviour wo lived and died through it all.

Back to the shower and the tears and the exhaustion. Back to the sinking feeling that I should be more grateful for my daughters, for my heavy stomach filled with a healthy boy.

 The pressure to be doubly, grateful as if to somehow make up for baby loss, for friends grappling with infertility, for death too young. 

But the truth is that I cant be.

All I can do is experience these feelings, these emotions. to grieve and celebrate and pray until I can't carry on any longer for the people existing in the thick of it all.

and its still okay to be ridiculously grateful for my wonderful children who also annoy the hell out of me and sometimes make me weep for joy or scream into a pillow.

Somehow in the economy of grace that's okay. 

So there you are, a little stab at articulating and explaining the gap between my last post in September and this one.

Enough of a gap almost for a whole baby to be made and born!

A lot of the inbetween is missing. I have absolutely been guilty of wanting a neat resolution and understanding to occur before posting anything but now I realise that there is and can never be any such thing as a neat resolution.

Yet to stop writing about it, to stop attempting to process and make some sort of peace with it, was causing much more damage than accidentally writing the wrong thing would have.
So there you have it.