pouring out.

My head is swirling of late. Not surprising with so much on the horizon. But it never fails. The wheels on the bus always pick up full speed around the 4:30 am mark, right after my nightly potty break and right before the HAVE TO EAT CRACKERS RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT kicks in.

For the last three mornings I've laid in bed, wide-eyed. I've planned and re-planned Scott's 30th birthday. Apparently all my brothers are a bunch of ninnies and don't want to go sky diving. And it's not as fun to go solo. So scratch that. Scott keeps telling me he doesn't want ANYTHING. Yeah, tell that to your pregnant wife with insomnia at 5 in the morning. Oh and did I mention his birthday isn't until September 28th? Yeah. I like to plan. But in my defense, the baby will be due two weeks later, so I'm trying to just have a plan of action.

I keep planning and re-planning Henry's big boy room. I start to worry about transitioning him into a big boy bed and how that will play out. I start to wonder if he'll ever get rid of his paci or if I'll be like one of those mum's at Target that I judge because they have three children and they all have paci's. I hate pacifiers. I hate them.

I keep thinking color schemes for this supposed big boy room. And themes (possibly vintage robots?). And calculating costs for things like sheets and a mattress and a bed frame and a dresser. I'm thankful for the weddings I have booked this year, but am praying for a few more. Babies aren't cheap. And neither are big boy rooms. Even if you cut corners where ever possible.

But a baby. Wow.

I keep having these moments of pure excitement and anticipation. a NEWBORN. A sweet, snugly, wrinkly, little new person. A boy or girl? I'm sure you all assume I wish for a girl this time. You would be correct. But I would not be disappointed if it was a boy. My brother never had a brother. And maybe he would be a different person had he. Scott had two, and I can't imagine who he would be without them. I used to feel sorry for women who had all the same sex children. I used to pity them, feeling like they were missing out on something. And now I see how spectacular it can be to be one of those. Davi has opened my heart to truly embracing what God gives you and seeing the joy in knowing that He has given EXACTLY what you need. Because who knows me better than He?

Then I have these moments that make me tired.

Nursing.
Nursing was exhausting last time. And it wasn't the every 2-3 hours, it was the never having enough. Always feeling like my baby was starving, because in reality, he probably was. Okay, not starving, but never satisfied. I tried everything. I ate tons of protein. I drank a swimming pool a day. I took herbal supplements. I didn't go back on the pill. And did I mention pumping all. the. time. Feeding Henry and then staying up to pump, one, if not two more feedings before I went to bed in order to have a full 8 ounces pumped so he would have a full feeding before he went to bed the following night. It was exhausting. And I cringe thinking about that portion. The work. Kids are work. I get that. But sometimes the long road ahead is dizzying. I will do it. I'll do it again. I would in an instance. Because it's so good for them. And it's so cheap. And that sweet bonding time is priceless. Absolutely, infinitely priceless.

And then I look at my little man.

















I and I know I can do it again. I know I have it in me.
I know that it's worth it.
It's a joy. It's a blessed privilege.
And I am overjoyed.