Our family was complete, or so we thought. One year would go by and then another, and we quickly found ourselves out of the baby stage.
When we moved over three years ago, my husband and I decided to sell all the baby stuff.
“We’ll just buy new if we have another,” we said. Even though, if you would have asked us then, our minds were already made up.
There would be no more babies for us.
Eventually we became school aged parents and we settled into a new routine. Sports activities, parent teacher conferences, school field trips – it was all a new adventure.
And it was fantastic. We got sleep and even fit in multiple date nights each month. Our girls, 8 and 6, could bathe themselves and they let us sleep in on Saturday mornings. It was a stage of motherhood that I liked to call, blissful.
Because it was. It was easy and safe and comfortable.
But at night, my heart would ache. I knew something was missing but my brain didn’t want to listen.
“We’re so comfortable now,” it would tell me. “Your financial situation is good. You sleep in on the weekends. Your business is taking off. Your girls are already in school. If you have another baby, it will all change.”
I knew what made sense on paper. A perfect family of 4. One could say we were living the ideal American dream. Why would we change that?
But in the silent moments – when it was just me and God, I heard the whispers.
“Your family is not complete.”
My heart knew what my brain didn’t.
Tonight, I pen this column as my 15-day-old son sleeps on my chest. I can hear the whispers again, although now they are softer.
“You were right, God” I whisper. “I’m so glad I listened.”
My heart is full of love for this little boy who completes our family of 5. Yes, it’s hard. The days and nights and hours and minutes of each day are running together in one blurry haze. We’re starting to figure out a routine, but we’re in the trenches. There will be many late nights and hours of lost sleep before we’re back into our previous stage. And by then, of course, I’ll have teenagers, and I’ll add terrified to our blurry haze.
But right now, with this sweet little boy in my arms and his two big sisters sleeping peacefully in their beds, life feels so perfect.
One could even say… blissful.