(As a true testament to the “I’ll get to it tomorrow” philosophy, this was written November 19 and not to be posted for another two months.)
It’s hard to believe as I sit here hearing the sound of crackers being thrown on the floor followed by squeals of delight that last year my home was baby free. One year ago I was the mother of two, spending my free moments switching between being excited for to finally see the little kicker inside me to being terrified that juggling three children would finally result in me huddled crying in the corner. But regardless of what was going on in my mind, my body and doctor decided that Fisher peanut #3 was ready to meet the world and so on November 19, 2009, Grace Joelle Fisher let out her first big scream of many and waved her fists Jersey style.
When I was a new mom, I questioned everything. I followed every book, asked for advice and actually listened to it, and worried constantly about milestones and charts. The second time around I still had some doubts and questions on the whole motherhood thing but between the little experience I had, my handy dandy books, needy toddler and the screaming colicky baby, I just trucked through it with my head down. This time however, I used the books as coasters for my wine glass, asked for advice on good books to read and worried more about my own sanity than the kids milestones. It’s not that I believe I know more than I did six years ago about child rearing, it’s that I now know more about myself. As a new mom, I looked at parenting as child-centric. Now, with three kids, I realize it’s mommy-centric.
We named Fisher Girl #3 Grace for a reason. A few months before I got pregnant with Grace, I lost a baby at 9 weeks. We had seen the picture, heard the heartbeat and even nicknamed the baby. It was like opening a check for a million dollars only to find out it had arrived at the wrong house. It was a baby we didn’t know we wanted, learned to love, and then lost. My heart hurt but with the laughter from the other kids echoing through the house, I healed. So when I got pregnant with the peanut that would later arrive nine healthy months later, I prayed to whoever would listen to grant me the grace of knowing another child. And so, as soon as I knew it was a girl, I knew what I would name her. Grace. It fit in a way OJ’s glove never did. And she fit our family.
It’s amazing how true it is that you can’t remember what your life was like without each of your children. You can remember what you did (aside from those really wild blackout type nights) but not how you felt. Because no matter how crazy some days get, how some moments you really do begin to pull your hair out, once you know this life, you feel blessed.
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