Yesterday, the sun came out for what seemed like the first time in weeks. It melted most (if not all) of the snow around our house. There’s something magical about snow—watching it swirl around in the outside air… and getting excited when it actually sticks to the ground. Even though it’s one of those beautiful miracles of nature, I needed that melt yesterday.
I was never really a big fan of cold weather anyway, and even less so now in my postpartum condition.
I was tired of the grey… tired of cold… just tired. I needed the sun, and the healing energy of its warmth.
As I’m trying to figure out how to start this post, I realize that I have a lot going on in my head right now. My thoughts are scattered and nothing sounds right.
While this doesn’t sound too unusual for someone who just birthed a baby, brought a newborn home to sick siblings, is sleep-deprived and experiencing uncomfortable postpartum side effects, and riding an emotional rollercoaster… it’s still annoying.
And on the day I was to be induced (but never actually got induced), a little boy (KNEW IT.) came into our lives. Owen Noah Insley entered this plane of existence on August 12th at 2:07 p.m., weighing in at 7 lbs, 3 oz. with a length of 20.5 inches. The miracle of birth, amiright?
Seriously? Never did I think that I would still be pregnant seven days past my due date. Four days? Sure. Six days? It’s happened before. But seven? HMMM… I have to imagine the ultrasound tech or doctor got my date wrong. Especially for my FOURTH kid?! Bananas.
Well, regardless, here we are. I have an induction scheduled for tomorrow morning; I have to be at the hospital at 7 a.m. I was fortunate enough with the first three kids to avoid the need for drugs, so I’m a bit bummed that I might have to take something to induce labor. I’m pretty much hoping that by the morning, my body will be in a good enough position to just get things going with a swift break of the water bag. I say “hoping,” but truthfully, the word, hope, gives me pause these days. Ever since I heard Rachel Hollis speak at the 2019 Rodan + Fields convention, I reactively flinch whenever someone says “hopefully” or “I hope…” or something similar. During her talk, in relation to business (or making your dreams come true), Rachel blew my mind with five words—hope is not a strategy.
I am only a few months behind getting a post up, but I wanted to begin this blog with gratitude. I am so, so thankful for where I have been guided so far in this beautiful phase of life, which brings me to the proverbial elephant in the room—I’m only several weeks away from giving birth to my fourth child. In fact, as I type this, my belly is going wild with all sorts of “fun” rolling motions. (Like, have you ever been woken up by an earthquake and you have that sensation of your environment being a part of a universal flash mob of The Wave? Well, that’s what my stomach feels like.)