There was an old woman who lived in a shoe...

I've made it no secret that my emotions have been at war within me concerning the size of our family. More specifically whether to have more children or not.

Admittedly, everything in me has been battling over the practicalities of where I am in life: A busy homeschooling mom of four. Who loves my children more than life itself, but who really wants to move on from this stage.

A stage that revolves around planned nap times and secured baby gates.

finding flattering maternity clothes and ridding myself of post pregnancy weight.

sleepless nights due to the family flu and juggling which parents will taxi which child to which appointment....

Yet.

The unavoidably truth of the matter is that I am completely fascinated by large families. Everything about them intrigues me.

In fact, I don't read many blogs, but the ones I do regularly read are ones who's family sizes start at 9 and go up from there. I just enjoy watching their dynamics from a far. marveling over all the different aspects of *joy* that each child brings to that particular family.

And then I try and imagine what my home will be like 25 years from now when my daughters (and sons?) have families of their own. Families who loudly crowd my kitchen at Christmastime as they each try to steal tastes of what's being baked.

A crowd of rowdy, crazy people who love to be together. who stay up late into the night playing games, talking, and laughing. A group of friends who happen to have known each other their entire lives and get the privilege of calling each other family.

I've said it before and I'll say it again... I know that when I lay on my deathbed, I won't look at the adult children who surround me and say "Dang it, I knew I shouldn't have had those last two children."

I am sure of this.

Yet, truth be told, my mind continually plays out certain arguments on a near daily basis:

• 
  While I would love to survive on air, the hard truth is that I must frequent the local grocery store. And going with four Littles in tow doesn't appeal to me. So why would I prolong the craziness of outings by adding to our troop's numbers?
  


• 
  I am currently beating my head against a wall trying to lose the last 12 pounds of all remaining baby weight. Why would I want to prolong that agony by stretching out my body once again with yet another pregnancy?

• 
  Contrary to what my daughters believe, money does not grow on trees (or in Granddaddy's pockets). And though Jet and I are in a season where things are starting to come together financially (or at least the promise of finances), why would I want to stretch our money any thinner by adding yet another mouth to feed?

• 
  Our heart is to do missions as a family. And while I know families that do short-term missions trips with little ones, let's get real...I don't like to take a trip to the local Food Lion with all my children. I'm not so naive as to think it'd be fun to take four little ones (and their gear!) to another nation! Meaning this dream will have to wait until we're not lugging diapers along with us.
  
  But prolonging any family missions trip (to have additional children out of said diapers) is sad because it means that my oldest daughters will only be older. And I so want to expose them to other cultures and people's universal need for Jesus at a young age.

The list goes on and on. each one logically mapping out why it's the "smart" choice for us to put a lid on the having babies department.

But have no fear! because even if my own inner arguments weren't persuasive enough to convince me to be happy with the four I have, then there's always the average Joe on the street (or even at the extended family dinner table) to remind me of my stupidity.

You know, those people who find it necessary to assume... and loudly declare... that for me to have any more would somehow be a drain on their personal sanity. wallet. and time.

I admit it, but far too often I let their comments effect the way I view MY life.

For I find myself doubting that we should have another child simply to avoid the inevitable comments from people who have deemed themselves President of all things Family Planning.

But thankfully, Sanity has revisited me once again.

because I am more than positive that if God were to offer us another baby, I'd be the first to shout "Over here! Empty womb over here!"

Yeah, all those arguments do hold some weight in the immediateness of my life, but they are nothing in comparison to the vision of my heart.

Because I can always get my pre-baby body back. I mean, it may take a stint on The Bi*ggest Los*er to get me there. But it can be done.

There are countless things I could put into action that would make having more children not a financial issue. I can always plant a garden and learn to can. buy a sewing machine and learn to sew.

And technically, I could always hire a babysitter for two hours a week so I can grocery shop alone.

But there's one thing I cannot do.

I cannot turn back time and have the babies that I would have had if I had thrown caution to the wind (or so society tells me) and had more children. I have one chance...and one chance only...to have a family.

I don't want to look back years from now and think, as I survey our family dinner table, "Man, someone's missing. someone I never got to meet because I heeded the voice of man instead of the call of my heart."

Yes, those arguments still find their way into my thinking from time to time. But I know our family is yet to be "complete".

And I'm learning to press through the immediate discomfort that may bring (even if only in my mind) so that Jet and I can reach the place our heart longs to possess. Home life with at least one more child. A future filled with lots of love.

though if I do have more children, I'm thinking I'll know what to do. You know, as opposed to that old woman in the shoe.

Baker's dozen

This picture AND blog were first posted summer of 2007. I repost it because its contents have CONTINUALLY been on my mind these last couple of months. And I plan to try and capture some of those thoughts over the next few weeks.

And so I leave you with this. the foundational point of where my heart is as a mom....

Confession: I want to have a ton of children.

I'm sure that THAT comment, all by itself, is enough to send most of your brains into warp-speed shock. WHAT?! You mean, have more than the 2.5 children alloted by the US Census? Or even more than the 4 that the "really far out church people" have?!! Have you lost your mind?

In a word. Yes.

Which moves me to answer the next question that you're thinking: How many children do you mean exactly? I mean are we talking 5 here or are you making plans for your very own sports team?
To answer. I don't really know. But I have to say that when I see three teenage boys walking around together, something deep inside of me says, "I want that." I like the idea of having a three-some of boys. And being that I'm yet to have ANY boys... you do the math.

And this brings me to the next thought. There's no way to ENSURE that we will actually have three consecutive boys. OR three boys at all. In fact, allow me to give you a birds-eye-view into one marital conversation:

Me:"Well, how many do YOU want to have?" -I'm pretty sure it's my turn to ask our tri-yearly question. Therefore, I do my wifely duty and start the conversation.

Husband: "I don't know. But I do want a boy."

Me: "Yeah well, I think if we have one boy, we at least need to do the courtesy of giving him a brother."

Husband:"Yeah. So what if we have a boy...and then try for another boy, but get a girl. (note: this is not posed as a question. But rather a statement. Hence, the period mark.) Where does this theory of yours go from there?"

Me: "Okay, so what if the next baby we have is a girl. Four girls."

Husband, without a moment's hesitation: "Then we're done."

Me: "yeah, but what about the boy?"

Blank stare. No words. My husband is stumped. And though he says nothing, I guess that he's envisioning himself later on in life. Me, surrounded by my girls doing what girls do. Him... surrounded by bottles of conditioners... and lotions... and hormonal boys trying to date his babies.

I know there's no way to tell what we'll have. Though I've heard there are "theories" out there about how to create the "correct" gender. Trust me, I've seen the writings. Do yourself a favor and don't read them. Otherwise at that moment when you and your spouse are being intimate, your mind will flash to "page 3. third paragraph down" And you'll realize that you need to stop and reposition. Because obviously this is the way to have a GIRL. Um yeah, not so good for the whole romancing thang. *laughing*

But still...I know that I want to have a house full of children. Well, let me specify. One day, I'd love to have a housefull of grown children. There's just something about THAT thought that really appeals to me. I envision huge Thanksgiving dinners. Everyone laughing. Siblings picking on each other and trying to embarrass the newest datee. Built-in friendships. The lifelong kind.


But it's just the getting there part that gives me a thirst for the hard liquor. The sleepless nights. The family flu bug...and all that that lovely venture entails. The endless diapers. The potty training mishaps that leave tell-tale marks on your Persian rug. The constant fighting over the toy that someone else has.

But regardless, I cannot deny that my heart seems to have been created to mother a lot more than I currently have. And somehow I doubt when I'm lying on my deathbed, that I'll look around me and say, "dangit, I knew I shouldn't have had those last two kids!"

Somehow, I know that I'll look back on my life and know that I did something good. Because as Dr's Sears and his wife say (they have 8 children and are always questioned on the wisdom of it):


....The world needs MY children.