Clover Lane

I had my weekly OB appointment on Monday and was sent for a routine non-stress test to the hospital because another patient was already using the monitor in the office.  (My doctor's office is connected to the hospital so it wasn't a big deal.)

I walked into the maternity floor and sat in the room I was supposed to be in, and a nice nurse came and set me all up, and then left me alone...and my mind started racing.

Last week on this blog I talked about how much I love having babies...I love the hospital stay, the smell of the sheets, the excitement, the visitors, everything about it.  It's all true.  But that day, actually BEING there, in the hospital, on the floor where I'll soon be staying-and maybe it was just my state of mind at the time (anxious, worn down from parenting five children 24/7 all summer long, and very very uncomfortably pregnant) I began to feel the opposite.  I had a bit of a brain break-down.

Like this is REAL.  I'm really really having a baby.  (I didn't just eat a whole watermelon like it looks like above!)  This time, I didn't just remember the good stuff...that seemed to all vanish.  The smell, sights and sounds brought back all of it...the hard stuff too.  The frightening physical pain towards the end of labor that there is no preparation for (no matter how many times you've experienced it!), the overwhelming love I feel when that baby is born but that is soon followed by the same dose of overwhelming responsibility, that quiet time when everyone leaves to go home after the baby is born-Jeff to the kids at home-and I am left bone-tired and in bed (and yes, in love with the bundle in my arms) and with quiet that leads me to think, "Holy Moley, can I handle all this?  What was I thinking 9 months ago?  I'm just a kid, I can't take this baby home! They shouldn't let me! And all the ones at home that still need me?  I can't do this!"  No matter if this was one baby or six (!) I know those teary feelings, that weight on my shoulders, will come again.  I will feel very, very vulnerable.  I will feel self-doubt.  I will feel scared.  Scared to death.

And for a minute that day, I thought, hooked up to those monitors the other day, watching the little heart beat go up and down, "Maybe I'm OK with just staying like this-hugely pregnant-forever.  This just might be easier."

But staying stagnantly, endlessly pregnant is not really an option, nor do I really want that. (God, no!) But moving forward requires so much of me, and the reality of it all is enough to make me, for a moment, let my mind choose to travel over the hard stuff.

My nurse came back and unhooked me, and everything with that sweet little baby looked good.  And I got myself up out of that chair (no easy task) and walked (waddled?) my way out of the hospital.  I got in my mini-van and drove home and fixed lunches, and swept the floor, and refereed arguments and answered endless questions and drove someone to a practice.  I had to stop entertaining my doubts, my fears, my anxiety, but was almost grateful that I had the quiet time to do it-to get it all out of my system.

Just catching up on summer pics:
A quick little day trip to Cedar Point, an awesome amusement park, right when school let out-

It's finally finished.  Why do all projects take SO long around here-and we don't even do them ourselves!  I think it's because I'm too nice...honestly.  I really had the goal of having this bathroom all new and ready to go by the SECOND week in June, darn it.  Of course it's worth the wait.

I still have to hang some pictures that Abbey drew of mermaids and fish when she was little.  I had every intention of getting the frames and mattes last week but it's on the back burner now-I missed the Michaels frame sale and will have to wait till the next one.

Everything is really plain.
Everything is really easy to clean-that was my goal.
Nothing is terribly creative-or creative at all!

Here's some vague before pictures.  It might not look too bad but what you don't see doesn't hurt you-the floor tile was old and dull and stained, the inside of the tub/shower was outfitted with major handicap pieces everywhere and the wall tile was chipping and discolored, the walls and ceiling itself was chipped and peeling because the fan didn't work, the sink was so hard to clean and constantly leaked, I can go on and on....you get it.  I am wondering now why it took me so many years to get to this project because I love the new finished result so much.

And now:





(Here is the formula for the light green paint color-it is the perfect light limey green.)

I have come across so many good books lately...I LOVE streaks like these!  It seems like I go through dry spells sometimes and then my night stand is overflowing.

If you wonder how I am fitting all this reading in, I'll tell you.  It's called pregnancy insomnia and that means I get some major page-turning from about 1 a.m - 4 a.m., no joke.  I also won't deny that I work like a maniac in the morning with my household duties so I can find some couch time in the afternoon.

Here are my favorites:

For those who aren't into historical fiction this was a gripping novel about a teenage girl's unraveling life, and an outsider's urge to help.  I couldn't put it down.

This is so NOT a nursery reveal, I just couldn't resist that title.

When our first was born 18 years ago (18!) we lived on the bottom floor of a little duplex-technically one bedroom but there was a large back room I set up for him before he was born.  It was part of an addition, and hence it was freeezing or sweltering, and also had an entrance door into it but my naive self thought it would work out well.  Then he was born, and I couldn't imagine him sleeping farther than 2 feet from me, and what if someone stole him, or what if he was too cold or hot-I would never ever leave him to sleep in such a miserable room, what was I thinking?  He slept in our room.

Fast forward a year, and I was pregnant with our second.  We had just bought a 3 bedroom house and with one going on two children, we had enough rooms for each child to have their own.  I did her nursery in navy and white and yellow-nice and neutral.  I painted the walls myself, copying the print of a wallpaper I could never afford, and had the cheapest all white bedding I could find-with a few garage sale finds it turned out pretty cute.  She slept in there half a dozen times because she refused (and I mean refused!) to sleep without a body laying next to her.  She was the lightest sleeper ever and I thought it was all my fault.  I read books and books and tried different things all to no avail.  What a waste of time, it's the way she was wired.  But the nursery was cute, it really wasand it sat there, gathering dust.

When I was pregnant with my third we moved once again to a 3 bedroom house....2 tiny bedrooms, one without a closet, and a nice sized master bedroom.  We shoved the crib in Isaac's tiny room after Matt was born, and that worked well...the "boy's room".  He actually slept in his crib after a few weeks, that sweet little best baby ever.  It was heaven.

When our fourth, was born, we still lived in that same house, so I set up his crib in our room.  He slept on my chest for a good four or more months because of his terrible colic.  He never ever napped in his whole life.  Except in his sling which I wore from sun-up till sun-down.  I collapsed into bed with him every night, my only reprieve from his constant stomach trouble and we both slept soundly, totally exhausted.  Shouldn't have even set up the crib with that one.

We live where we do now when our fifth was born.  We have four bedrooms.  I went a little psycho when I was pregnant with our fifth, thinking and rethinking all different scenarios depending on the sex of the baby, of who would share with who and how that would work so actual sleep could happen for all.  I switched all their rooms around once only to have changed my mind one week later and put it all back.  I contracted an architect to draw up plans for an addition.  I drove everyone crazy, including myself.  But then Patrick was born and I decided for the present time he would share with Isaac-youngest and oldest.  He did sleep in his crib-the most use out of that crib out of them all-at least for naps, because Isaac was at school and it was nice and quiet.  But at night, I couldn't very well put him to bed with a teenager who needed to study till 10 or 11, so he slept in...you guessed it...our room.

Where he still is.  But won't remain.  Or maybe he will.  I don't care anymore, honestly.

We are plum out of room by today's standards.  Yes, Isaac is going off to college, but he will come home again and again and it's not like we can pitch a tent for him in the backyard after we sell his (tiny) room to the highest bidder.  It will remain his room, although I promised it to the next oldest boy in line for sleeping purposes only when Isaac is gone-there is to be no official "moving in".

The baby will share a room with us.  I'm under no illusion anymore.  Pretty wallpaper, pastel colors, expensive catalog fixings don't determine how well babies or parents sleep.  I sleep best close to my babies-I know that.  Mix some new mother anxiety in with every-2-hour-around-the-clock-feedings and my bed is where we sleep best.

So here's my nursery and I love it.  I love it more than ever because after having five children I feel so settled in knowing what I want, and what I need and how I function as a new mom.  No crazy planning or shopping or moving rooms around.  Now don't get me wrong-I don't mind a good old stroll, ooohing and ahhing, through a  Pottery Barn Kids catalog, but I laugh a little when I look at the photos.  It's SO not what having a baby is about. I know that now more than ever.

My good very talented friend Jane, revamped my old bassinet for me-I had a chance to make it my own- she stitched it all together and I now consider it an heirloom to hand down to my children and grandchildren.  Abbey helped me choose the fabrics after we scrubbed it all up. I love its simplicity. My changing table has every item of clothing and all the supplies I think I will need for awhile at least.

Now we just patiently wait for our sweet little one.

There is nothing like the smell of Dreft.  I washed all the blankets and diapers and tiny baby clothes and then stuck my nose in the piles again and again, hoping that lovely scent would induce labor. I'm kidding about that part...as much as I am done with being uncomfortable, I know how important it is to have a fully cooked baby.

I have a pile started for my bag to the hospital but it's been four years and I feel like I am forgetting things.  I am still nervous after five births.  Maybe it's because I have a new doctor now, or have a longer drive to the hospital, or just know what to expect so know that nerves are going to be part of it.  I hope and pray it all goes smoothly and there are no glitches.  This is my last time to experience it-the excitement of the labor pains beginning, the overwhelming pain, and then the joy of meeting our new baby and I want to savor every minute.