“What’s it like having 3 kids?”
“So, was going to 2 kids harder, or 3?”
“Is it insane?”
“Is it crazy?”
“Did it push you over the edge?”
“Give me the details, NOW! I don’t care that you’re just my barista! Keep the coffee and tell me everything you know about your best friend’s boyfriend’s sister’s family of 5!”
This, right here, friends—was me. For two full years, we teetered dead-center on the fence between whether or not we’d try for a third baby. So naturally I accosted every close friend and stranger with my litany of questions and fears.
During most of our season of indecision, Doug and I simply were never quite dancing on the same floor, where we very much needed to be. Every time his positive vibes surged: “We can do it! I think we should!” I’d be having a day when 2 kids already felt like 2 too many if you know what I mean. Those days. Nope. No more babies here, please! You are high on craft glue that you’d even ask.
Likewise, every moment I felt my maternal desire for just one more kid burn within me like the Heart of Te Fiti, Doug was like, “Yeah, that’s not happening. We know who we are, Moana, and it’s definitely not parents of three.”
Then one day, honestly: Things changed, things clicked, in an instant. I know that sounds annoying and simplified, but it’s totally true. He grabbed my hand and we realized that, suddenly and finally, we were swaying to the identical rhythms of knowing our family wasn’t complete. The road to get there was clunky, but out of nowhere, grew clear. We very much wanted a third kid.
We wanted a Reese.
Actually, we wanted a boy, but that, my friends, is another story for a whole other day!!!
So now, here we are, seven months in, and it’s already been infinity since I lost count of the times I’ve found myself on the other side of the 3-kiddo inquisition. People with two babies or one baby or zero babies at all, now pepper me with the same questions I once poured out like gravy. Online, at the gym, in line at Trader Joe’s.
And I’m honestly honored!
So here it is.
I’m gonna throw down my unfiltered truths like Maui the Demigod with his You’re Welcomes.
If you’re less into research and more into leaving room for mystique, maybe stop reading now! But if you’re like I was, and you know that—of course—only you and God and your very own people can decide on your family size, but also that you like gathering intel and stories, I hope you find this helpful and interesting!
First of all, I tell everyone that going to 3 kids, for us personally, has been our easiest baby transition. However, now that I’m here, I realize that there. are. so. many. REASONS and factors that play into each preciously unique baby transition for every family on earth! There are no golden facts proclaiming, “Going to 3 is always the easiest,” or “Going to 4 is always the hardest,” or “Two kids is so much easier than five.”
Nope. No way. Not even close. We all have different capacities, callings, and collective elements playing into our song when a new baby arrives and our family expands into new octaves.
Sometimes it’s a beautiful song, like it has been with Reese.
And other times, as with Emerson, it is a hot mess cacophony of colic, mommy’s identity crisis, the maternity leave clock ticking, and why did nobody tell me motherhood could feel so unnatural and hard? I still feel those pangs of impossible difficulty inherent to the calling of motherhood; don’t get me wrong! But they don’t pervade days after days with the choking gray fog they once did. My toughest transition, period, was the year I became a mom.Going to one little baby. Just the one. She undid me. Eventually putting me back together like never before, but still. That postpartum period takes the cake and the platter and all the silverware, too.
But new motherhood isn’t like that for everyone. Some breeze into it a lot more gracefully than I did. Maybe it’s not a cake walk for anyone, but I don’t know that it’s always my full-on cake-in-the-face experience, either. So, so sweet. But also painful and messy, the shock of all shocks. Likely obscuring your vision. (Causing face breakouts, too.)
So, what exactly made this time different? Why so much more frosting and less broken glass? I’ve given this a lot of thought and paid close attention to the various factors that have made this one our best baby rodeo. And for whatever it’s worth, here they are—the questions whose answers I think make an impact:
What is your baby’s temperament like? I feel like this #1 factor is pretty much everything! Guys! If your baby never cries… neither will you! Just kidding, but not really. Having an inconsolable baby who fusses and screams around the clock (like my first) was one of the most mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally challenging times of my life. Even Hadley, #2, who would probably qualify as a “normal” baby, on the easier side, if anything, was up throughout the nights and fussed like crazy at witching hour. Because that’s what babies do! Reese, on the other hand, has been a baby anomaly. She has rarely cried since day 1. She came home from the hospital with her nights figured out. She started sleeping through the night at 8 weeks—all on her own. Her delightful temperament and nights of full slumber have been some of the greatest, undeserved gifts I’ve ever received. Her sweetness has meant the world to our family and her mommy’s mental health in this transition.
How old are your other kids? My big girls are 3 and 5, and these ages are game-changing. Not only do they use the actual bathroom themselves, get their own snacks, and play together wonderfully while I do baby things. They also pitch in to fetch diapers, feed bottles, or entertain her while I blow-dry my hair. Their independence level by this point is burgeoning in such a legitimate way. Two in diapers, both needing me oh-so-desperately around the clock, neither with words of their own, felt so much harder for me. I personally have found three-years-and-two-months apart, to be a much easier age gap than two-years-and-three-months apart. That one year in a child’s development! It’s substantial. It’s huge. That said, though, Ems and Hads are best friends now and of course I would never trade it.
What was your pregnancy like? Was it easy and enjoyable? Was it hellish and hard? Mine was so debilitating that I found myself actually fantasizing about the post-birth *joys* simply because they would mean I was no longer barfing. Truly, I felt so physically phenomenal leaving the hospital two days after birth, in comparison to the nausea of my pregnancy. I am in fact still tapping into the high of realizing I’m no longer pregnant and never will be again. If you felt like an absolute goddess during your pregnancy, I can imagine that the newborn zombie/monster phase might be an extra-shock to the system.
What is your physical recovery like? I never had one, but C-sections, whoa, the strength of my sisters who have. Not to mention those I know who had heartbreaking, devastating complications during childbirth, and subsequent issues for months if not years. I personally had one-degree tears which were NBD. I was back to just-about-normal within a few weeks. God balanced that out with my pregnancies, though, so please don’t doubt the fairness of this arrangement. My point is that a newborn mom’s physical state will most definitely affect the overall transition time for the family.
Some additional questions and humble tips to consider…
What is your emotional recovery like? Does the mom have postpartum depression? Baby blues? Chemical imbalance of any kind? If a woman struggled with postpartum last time, gently and effectively prepare a plan forward.
What kind of newborn help and support do you have? My parents took our two big girls for a full week when Reese was born, and I wonder about the power of this alone in setting our shift to three off on such a positive foot. The more help, the better. Never say no! Line it up! Hire what you can afford in the first few months! Having a genuine angel of a babysitter help our family has meant volumes.
How is your marriage? Is your heart at peace in your home, in your relationship? Do you and your partner work well as a team? A baby throws just about any marriage into new exhaustion and pressures, so if things were feeling difficult to begin with, the transition could push a couple into some stratospheric, miserable tension. Communicate openly and constantly, before, during and after baby’s arrival about expectations from one another. Hash out the duties. Air out the feelings. Don’t hold resentments. Voice your needs. Have each other’s backs. You are co-soldiers. Fight for each other. Then fight together against those dirty diapers and dictator tots!
Also, do you have a community to support you?
Can someone set up a meal train for you?
Do you know that you’re not alone?
Look, friends. All these questions are merely that, and they may or may not play a big role in your personal transition to a new baby. You could have totally bleak answers to every single one of these questions—and having another kid still might be part of the perfect plan for your life. The road to the best thing is not always easy; more often, in fact, it’s not. Plus, God can make anything beautiful. I share all this simply to expound on some factors that I’ve realized can play majorly into the baby days, and to explain why—for us—three kids has not felt so bad.
Because I was prepared for the worst.
And it’s been the biggest blessing of my whole life.
That said, it’s still 10 shades of pink/purple/leopard/unicorn sparkle fairy dust crazy! And I want to share what’s actually tough. For me, the hardest thing has been the sheer pace and number of balls in the air. Juggling is the most clichéd of all perfect metaphors I can summon to paint the picture. It is constant, you guys! With two big kids in two different schools, it feels like there’s always some drop-off or some teacher gift or somebody needing a snack. Downtime is precious and rare. Three kids feels like more of so many things—and less of everything else. More noise, more messes, more lists. Less alone time, fewer date nights, smaller slices of Mommy to go around. It’s much harder to find time to recharge. Doug and I both have to be very strategic about this. We’re still figuring out and finding our rhythm. I asked Doug for his input on what has felt hardest, and he said simply, “I feel spread a lot thinner.” That sums it up quite well.
Lastly, to date, whenever I’ve shared anything about having 3 kids, I’ve always said something about giving myself grace upon grace—and how this has been my guiding light and peaceful calm in this final, precious whirlwind of a newborn phase. And somebody asked me recently in response:
What does grace look like for you?
And I am so glad that she did.
Because this question shoots right to my deepest belief that—in the face of all logistics, limits and external factors—there is a Higher Power guiding me through. And it’s the Power to whom I will always point for any morsel of victory I experience this side of heaven.
Also, I hate it when people throw out spiritual vagaries and you’re like, “Okkkk, but what does that even mean?”
For me, day-totday, grace looks like a million tiny surrenders. I don’t always choose this gentler way. But when I do, it feels like exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Accepting a hug as wide as the ocean from the God who knows me better than anyone; who reassures me I was never alone. Releasing my tight-fisted attempts at being perfect, again; remembering who I am, and just being that instead.
I’m a good mom, who loves her kids, who also sometimes has really bad moments. Moments awash in grace.
Grace is: the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God.
Grace is: the influence or spirit of God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them.
Grace is: In those moments of motherhood, the ones that cut to my core, wear on my patience, point out my faults, grate on my nerves, shine the brightest lights on my most glaring imperfections, all the ways I’m failing and flailing—the thing that covers it all.
Grace is not: Being a neglectful mom or a lazy mom or just “throwin’ a little forgiveness” on deliberately horrible mothering.
Grace for moms is, I think, especially for those of us with a charted history of beating up on ourselves repeatedly and unnecessarily, far beyond health or reason. The ones who need reminding that we’re loved and good even though this mom gig requires so much outrageously more than we ever dreamed.
I’m weak, guys!!! Three kids is still three tiny humans in my mostly 24/7 care. It is the endless, thankless hard job of all endless, thankless hard jobs. But this time, more than ever before, I find myself walking lighter, and breathing easier, and making choices rooted in love, because I have felt the deep grace of a Power who makes me strong.
OK, STEPH, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!
Well, for one, right now, even seven months in, it means saying NO to anything that does not bring life to my body, mind, spirit, family or soul: Extra commitments, toxic thoughts, perfectionism, performance, people who bring me down. It means saying YES to things that rejuvenate: Calling a sitter, a date night, hot bath, 30 minutes alone. Not dressing my girls to the nines every day. Hugging them often and tight. Letting them see their mama mess up; apologizing, forgiving.
Ditching the complex dinner I planned and ordering takeout instead. Dry shampoo, Dino nuggets, not responding to every text right away. Lighting a candle, accepting the mess, hiring a regular house cleaner. Letting the girls play in the mud. Not grunting and simmering silently every time I sweep up a disaster.
Sometimes grunting and simmering silently when I sweep up a disaster.
Asking for lots of help.
And then some more, and some more.
Driving through Starbucks, again.
Meditating on a single scripture all week, not studying the Bible for hours.
Being honest in circles of people I trust; letting myself be seen.
Wearing the jeans that fit.
Learning to accept a compliment.
Speaking kindness over my kids when they’re driving me totally crazy.
Bowing my head when I’m about to break down to say simply: “I need you, God.”
Grace looks precisely different for everyone. But this is me, in my now. It’s me as a mom of 3 who feels relaxed, and happy, and confident enough of the time— but like not at all some of the time.
And remembering that this exact current season with very small kids is just temporary, makes my heart both ache and do cartwheels.
I’m still learning, every moment.
But if I could go back and tell that brand-new first-time-mom self of mine any one thing, I’d wipe her tears and hug her curves and say, “His mercies are new every morning. Let it puzzle you, let it dazzle you, let it break you apart. Grace will put us back together again. And again, and again, and again. People think surrender is weak. But they’re wrong. It is here, sister, and only here, where we will at least be strong.”
Who’d have thought, that my third baby would round things out for me, drawing the circle closed, holding me tight, centering me into wholeness with softer edges and an unshaken core?
Not me.
3 has been my favorite number since I was a little girl, though.
So I think maybe she knew.
**********
Sometimes the world seems against you
The journey may leave a scar
But scars can heal and reveal just
Where you are
The people you love will change you
The things you have learned will guide you
And nothing on earth can silence
The quiet voice still inside you
And when that voice starts to whisper
Moana, you’ve come so far
Moana, listen:
Do you know who you are?
I am Moana!!!!!
— Moana
