surprises

by Ms. Joy

I was not much of a “baby” child. I played with Barbies as much as I did Lego, I had a favourite doll but she was for snuggling not caring for in a psuedo motherhood role. As a teenager I kind of figured I wouldn’t have children, I simply didn’t picture them in my future. Perhaps a surprise child when I was in my mid to late 30s, a misguided tortured artist ideal. For the most part though, I did not gaga over a single baby. Obviously, I love my children but I’m not much of a little people person. The littles attached to me in a varying number of ways (familial and friend-wise) are sacred but I’m not going to be opening an in-home daycare any day soon. I am woefully awkward with other people’s children, I have the habit of viewing all children as intelligent creatures capable of conversation and thought and for this reason have always spoken to my  own children at their level. Baby talk does not exist in our home. This is why the boy has stumbled through the word “fantastic” since he was 2 years old.

This past fall has been difficult for our family. It’s been four months of staggering amount of upheaval, something that we managed to come out of in the end and though we are stronger, there are a few raw pieces to us now, particularly Mr and I. Something we were not expecting to do in this time was expand our numbers but that is exactly what were are doing. Miss N cleverly narrowed her eyes at Mr when he told her and said, “Oh. The book. Ohhhh” in reference to the embarrassingly helpful kids’ book “Where Did I Come From?“. If ever you wondered how to start explaining the birds and the bees to your kids, I recommend that one. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination; it’s clear, concise and when you have to tell your kid she’ll be a big sister to not one but two siblings, she’ll get it.

I dare say we are as nervous as we were when we learned of Miss N’s existence nearly 7 years ago. I finish school this semester  and had big plans for that shiny new degree that will have to be put on hold. Mr is in a frantic state trying to figure out where we will put a third little person and how we will provide for him or her – we figure her considering how miserably sick I’ve been the last few weeks, the same thing happened with her sister. I’m not one for learning the sex before birth, it’s not medically necessary and there is something charming and oh so very sweet about my husband cutting the umbilical cord and revealing our child to me. He’ll be an old hand at it come September.

I’ve made some very personal decisions about how we will handle my bipolar disorder and its associated medication. I ask only for respect in regards to our decision that I keep taking it. I am very aware of the risk but I stand a much greater risk mentally than ever before and the latest medical research is well, not as terrifying as I once believed.

It figures that once I start to make a dent in that last bit of pooch left over from Boy that I’m set to expand upon it again.

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