It was my intention to start this blog off again on some strong, resilient feeling initial post. But...Surprise--I feel like a dishrag today and the inspiration just isn't coming like I want it too. I started this week with a lot of really great and highly motivated intentions. Yet it is Thursday already and all that I really have going on is this feeling like the time has gotten badly away from me and not in a direction I am terribly happy with. This is not to say that things are looking bad necessarily, but not good in all the ways I had hoped for. I suppose I had better explain some things about myself if I would like you to understand.
I am currently 13 weeks pregnant with a very unexpected, but terribly wanted baby. This little one will be number 4 for me (I know, I'm crazy...but just wait because you haven't even touched upon the extent of my crazy yet.) but only number 1 for my dear sweet husband. My older kids, who are my heart and have been my life for more than 20 years now are as follows: My daughter Cait- 18, son Rob-14 and littlest guy Zack-9. Last but not least I should mention the three years I parented free-lance with my step-son Josh (24) before I had my own little crumb-crunchers. Did I mention the crazy part yet? That would have to be the fact that I found out I was expecting this last little wonder the week I planned my daughter's graduation party, (from high school--she was valedictorian of her class! Yay!!!!!) , that my youngest is NINE years old, that I always swore I would be done having babies by 30 because I started young and didn't want to spend my entire life raising kids--and oh, did I mention I am 37? and that the fertility specialists we saw after the miscarriage in 2009 felt we weren't likely to have another baby with out serious, expensive fertility treatments? So, yes, currently I am more than just a little crazy.
I am getting excited about this baby. I relish the idea that having come along at a time in my life when I KNOW the value of time in ways I had never before been aware, I will be able to slow down and ENJOY this baby. At the same time I am grieving, but not about this particular baby. It is about my first baby. My baby that turned eighteen and graduated this year and then this week, in a fit of righteous teenage indignation about being made to clean up after herself, moved out, to live with her boyfriend and his parents. I am not ready. I suspect that she is not ready either, but that I am keeping to myself, because I do understand her need to try. But that doesn't make me hate it any less.
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