One year ago

One year ago yesterday, I found out I was pregnant with our sweet Miles. We had just returned from a week in Mexico, and I realized I hadn't had my period yet. I was just sure of what I was about to find out, so I loaded up Maxwell and off to the nearest drugstore we went!

I grabbed a box of pregnancy tests, and to keep the trip interesting, I also grabbed some sunscreen, then entertained a 5 minute conversation with an employee about her three kids. If I was her, and noticed a girl holding a wiggly 14 month old in one arm and a pregnancy test in the other, I would probably leave her alone to let her go find out her fate. But that's just me.

Spoiler alert: the pregnancy test was positive. I laughed and freaked out a bit, then tried to have a moment with Max, who had no clue wassup.

Knowing this would probably be the last time I got to tell Mike I was pregnant, I went into a frenzy on how I would tell him when he got home later that night.  My Pinterest/internet/blog search stressed me out, so I just did a little DIY. I took a Popsicle out of the freezer, carefully unwrapped it, then wrote "pregnant" on the stick. I put the Popsicle back in the wrapper then back in the freezer, since I knew my friend Mike would come home and hit the Popsicles hard since it was a million degrees and he had just spent 3 hours at the fields. Thankfully, my artistic ability did not overshadow the big announcement.

Two days later I was on a plane to North Carolina for a wedding.  I proceeded to spend the next 2 days pretending to get drunk. I also thought I was going blind/dying 10 minutes before we walked down the aisle, but it turns out that was just the beginning of a few wacky pregnancy migraines.

Hard to believe that funny week was a year ago. Just as all the old ladies in the grocery store tell me, time sure does fly. But the fun part about that is the memories you capture along the way. Like last night, Max was so obsessed with wearing one of Miles' diapers that I had to put one of Miles' diapers over Max's diaper. I mean come on. He was a hilarious sight, so content to be wearing his lil bro's diaper.

This could become an expensive request.

I told Britt I was pregnant with Max on Addy's birthday, and I told her I was pregnant with Miles the same date she told me she was pregnant with Brynn, just a few years earlier! I love dates. Interestingly enough, Brynn and Miles look identical as babes, and Max and Addy also look strikingly similar as babies. I don't care how insignificant these things may seem....these are the things I want to sit around and force my grandkids to listen to. This is the story we are building!

My new mantra

At the end of a long day (or any day really) I can feel so overwhelmed by life's little tasks. Dishes. Packing lunches. Bathtime.

Because of Mike's work schedule, most nights I'm doing these tasks alone with the boys. It's not uncommon for all 3 of us to cry at some point throughout the night. Miles cries because I've laid him down to get something else done. Max cries because he's two and it's tough to be two. I cry because they cry and I feel like I should be able to handle it all better.

The other night, as I finished up bathtime, I repeated this in my head: "This my privilege. This is my privilege."  I must always remember how lucky I am to be overwhelmed by caring for these boys. I must always remember that doing these simple things is a privilege I've been given. Even when it's hard and even when I'm tired and even when I'm doing it alone for the millionth time, this is my privilege.

Earlier this year, we had an older woman volunteer at our office for a few months. Organization was her "hobby", so she would come in and organize various closets or cabinets. While I was out on maternity leave, I got an email that she had passed away. Even though she was in her 80's, it was still surprising. I read her obituary and realized that this little lady had led quite a fascinating life. Her family fled Germany when she was only 3, and they lived in the Dominican Republic for a few years. Because her parents needed to work so much to pay the bills, they arranged for her to live at a boarding school 6 days a week - Saturdays were the only day they all spent together. As a teen, she was sent to another boarding school in South Carolina, because her parents wanted her to have a chance at a better education.

I can't even imagine making the heart-wrenching decision to send your child away, in hopes of creating a better life for them. I can't imagine having to work so much that you only get one day a week with your child.
For me to get to give my babies baths each night, and to tuck them into bed, and to wipe up their messes and make meals for them - what an absolute privilege.

So, even on the nights when I'm overwhelmed and the only thing I feel like doing is crying, I'll continue to repeat my mantra: This is my privilege.