2014: The Year With No Baby

2014 was the first full year ever in our almost 8-year marriage that there has been no baby.  No new baby born, no growing infant to cuddle, not even a new baby on the way.  I won’t say that I now magically understand the pain of a couple who has struggled with infertility for a long time.  I do have four beautiful blessings who came easily and without much trying on our part—a fact I never cease to thank God for.  But I now can understand in a small way that ache that comes from the desire for a child that is never fulfilled.  We've wanted to have more children, but God in His infinite wisdom has decided that now is not yet the time.  It may not ever be the time.  I’m not saying there will absolutely be no more babies, but for so long we've lived with the mindset of “when the next one comes”, that it’s come as quite a shock to think what life will be like for us if there are no more babies.    

It’s also interesting to think of how different our home will be if there are no more babies.  It’s difficult to look around and see things in our home through new eyes.  The eyes of a mother without a baby.  I've never done that before.  It’s so new and different…and sometimes painful.  I've never even realized how many things in our home pertain only to babies—mainly because it seems they've always been a part of our life.      

Deacon is almost 20 months old.  My other boys all potty-trained before 2.  We are nearing that mark with him, but what will we do without a baby in diapers?  What will we do with the cloth diapers?  I was so proud and excited when I bought my first cloth diaper.  It’s still my favorite one.  But big boys don’t need diapers.  Diapers are only for babies.

There are boxes and boxes of clothes no one wears any longer.  They've always sat upstairs, waiting for “the next one”.  Now suddenly, I’m wondering why I’m letting them take up space.  The outfit Gideon wore home from the hospital; the first outfit all my other boys wore, when I would reluctantly dress them for the first time after the midwife had cleaned up and left; the tiny socks; the memories in a box.  But big boys don’t need tiny clothes.  Those are for babies.

I’m in the process of cleaning out my kitchen cabinets.  One shelf holds the baby bottles I used occasionally with my boys.  My boys who will no longer lay in my arms and neither nurse or drink from those bottles.  I left a space for them on the shelf, even though big boys don’t need bottles.  Those are only for babies.    

Deacon really could have moved out of the crib a couple of months ago, but I have waited.  If there is no new baby to fill it, I’ll have to take it down.  There’s something so final about taking that crib down, and I might have to really admit to myself that there are no more babies in the house.  Because big boys don’t sleep in cribs.  Cribs are only for babies.     

There are positives to the kids growing up.  Gideon and Lincoln dress themselves, fold and put their own laundry away.  They’re getting better at washing dishes and doing barn chores, and opening their own doors, and putting on their own coats.  It’s fun that they can all communicate and have a conversation with us and each other.  We get to learn new and exciting things in school, and join the local homeschool co-op.  There, Gideon, Lincoln, and Canaan were in their first “school” performance.  The kids are learning more and more about Jesus every day.  They are making connections between what the Bible says and how it affects their lives and their hearts.  All these things are terribly exciting and fun and sometimes scary.  Watching them grow is a blessing and a curse. 

But the fact remains.  They are no longer babies.

 

So what does a mom with no babies do, when all she ever wanted to do was have babies?   She quietly mourns, she moves on, she tries to live in the here and now.  She savors each stage, watches them grow, tries to live each day to the fullest. 

While I still can, I snuggle my babies close.  Because even though they aren't actually babies, as long as I’m their mom, they’ll always be my babies.

So we press on.  We leave the “Year With No Baby” behind, and take on another year full of new and exciting memories to make.  Maybe 2015 will include another baby, or maybe it will see this family growing in different ways than just its size. 

Bring it on, 2015.  Bring it on. 

And Happy New Year from the six of us at Lonely Windmill Farm.

The Holiday Curse Strikes Again!

Greg and I have spent seven holiday seasons together as a little family.  We have spent almost half of them sick.  And not just any old sick, but puking-your-guts-out and running-to-the-toilet sick.  It's such a pleasant picture right up there with roasted turkeys and angels in the sky, isn't it?  But it has happened so often, that it seems almost normal for us...almost.  In fact, when Thanksgiving rolled around two weeks ago, I was not surprised when one of the boys started throwing up.  Then I started thinking about our other holidays spent with the joyous bug that ruins all of our holidays--past, present, and future.  So here, I have recounted for your reading pleasure, our three worst holidays.  So read, and remember that no matter how weird your family is, spending a holiday with the "gift" that keeps on giving is worse.

Thanksgiving 2010
We only had two children at the time, and we were supposed to eat Thanksgiving lunch with Greg's parents, then drive most of the afternoon and evening to Missouri to surprise my grandma with a short stay there, along with my parents who were also spending Thanksgiving with her.  Gideon got it first.  He spent Monday or Tuesday throwing up through the day.  On Wednesday, it struck me.  I remember it being the first time I had to call Greg home from work, because I couldn't care for the kids. I was still nursing Lincoln, so Greg would bring him to me, I would nurse as much as I was able, and then Greg would carry out Lincoln to give the poor, starving kid a bottle.  (Turns out, not eating and drinking isn't great for your milk supply.)  I recovered enough that night, that we decided to go ahead and make the trip to Missouri, but skip Thanksgiving dinner with Greg's family to avoid passing on the germs.

Result: We ate our Thanksgiving dinner in a McDonald's somewhere between here and the Illinois state line.  We spent two days in Missouri before heading back.  Greg woke up Sunday morning so sick, we skipped church and I drove most of the way home.  Luckily he just felt bad, but didn't actually puke all the way home.  We also gave the flu to my mom, who got stuck in Missouri for a couple of more days before the stomach flu finally ended its not-so-pleasant visit.

Christmas 2011
This was the true Nightmare before Christmas.  It began again with Gideon about a week before Christmas.  He spent a night throwing up, and then it was over.  I thought we were safe.  Until the pesky bug attacked the rest of us...at the same time.  Canaan was only two months old, and it was only by God's grace that he stayed well.  The rest of the story actually seems almost hysterical now.  Greg and I were already feeling bad, though the actually violent vomiting and diarrhea had not appeared.  We had put the kids to bed and were expecting to sleep it off.  Until I checked on Lincoln, who was 19 months old.  He was lying in his crib, and he was covered in vomit.  A mother's worst nightmare.  I was rapidly feeling worse, but I stripped the crib, cleaned up Lincoln and brought him to our bed.  By now, I could barely stand, and that's when the fun started.  Greg and I took turns holding Lincoln, desperately trying to catch the upchuck with a trash can, while his poor little body spewed it every 15 minutes for the next hour or so.  It felt like an eternity.  One of us held Lincoln, the other ran to the bathroom spending the entire 15 minutes either throwing up or suffering through the other.  I have never been so sick in my life.  I remember yelling, "You have to come hold him.  I need the bathroom!" and then vaulting myself to the toilet.  Finally, Lincoln calmed down and started singing and dancing around.  Kids recover so quickly.  He laid down in his playpen and went right to sleep.  Oh, if we had all been so lucky.  Greg and I caught small snatches of sleep while we kept taking turns in the bathroom.  Unfortunately, Canaan was a terrible sleeper, and though I hoped and begged God to let him miraculously sleep all night, it was not to be.  Babies have to eat, and he woke up in the middle of the night like always.  I staggered to his bassinet , and tried to nurse him while laying on the couch.  But, I could tell I was going to be sick.  So I threw him carefully laid him back down, and ran to the bathroom.  I remember listening to him scream while I puked out my soul for the (praise God!) last time.  By morning, it was all over, but we were exhausted.

Result:  We had to cancel our plans (again with Greg's family) for Christmas day because we had re-gifted this delightful illness with Greg's sister's family and her four kids and Greg's parents.  This illness was so contagious that we also re-gifted it to just about everyone we knew.  We did get to reschedule Christmas, though the illness lingered, and my sister-in-law still missed our holiday dinner an entire week later.

Thanksgiving 2014: This year, for the first time, we were to host Thanksgiving.  I had bought a beautiful, grass-fed turkey from our good friends at Becker Farms.  It was a gigantic turkey, 28-pounds to be exact, that we had bought to feed everyone.  Then Canaan threw up all over the couch.  Then Deacon and Lincoln and Gideon had terrible diarrhea.  Then I got sick.  Just as I was recovering, Greg started throwing up all night.  When Greg got sick, my one thought was "I thought this would at least get me out of milking the goats for one morning, but not now."

Result:  We spent Thanksgiving day eating nothing.  I scrounged up a little soup for the kids to eat, while Greg and I tried to recover.  My sister-in-law and her family ate their Thanksgiving meal at home...with no turkey.  We cooked our turkey the next day and delivered it to everyone.  Greg left the turkey on his sister's front porch, because they refused to let him in.  We'd ruined enough of their holidays to risk it.

The moral of the story: Family, we apologize for all the times we've ruined your holiday plans.  Luckily, we all live close and can just reschedule.  At least we don't live out of town, and have to stay at your house while being down with the stomach flu!  And for the rest of you, don't plan your holiday dinner with us.  We will inevitably start barfing and have to cancel, or we'll just share the barfing with you.  We'll let you pick, because we're gracious like that!

We hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving, and we pray your Christmas is merry and bright...and vomit-less.