organized chaos

Ok, so by now you recognize this little dude. The Cuteness, aka Xavier. And you’re probably getting ready to exit my blog because you’re sick of hearing me sing his praises.

But here’s the deal. This guy has really caught me by surprise.

After Jackelope, we were, for all practical purposes, done having gremlins. Then a couple years later, I had two pregnancies that ended in miscarriage within two months of each other. Even though they were unexpected, they threw me for a loop. You know how it goes: you get over the initial shock, then you get used to the whole idea. It was hard.

Then we bought our first house and moved and the gremlins were getting to some really good ages. Good ages to permit me some freedoms I hadn’t had in so many years. Like baths. And sleep. And we could walk in the door from somewhere without every one of them screaming bloody murder over their hunger pangs. And no diapers. Luxuries like that.

So imagine my surprise when I turned up pregnant last year. Well, not really surprise in a good way. I’ll be honest. I was freaked. How would I work my crazy night hours without my medication? How could I possibly start all the way over with all the baby stuff? And speaking of baby stuff, I’d already gotten rid of just about all of it.

But as you know, things have a way of working themselves out. Or as I like to give credit to God, because He does care about so many little things. Like keeping me awake at work without the meds, and even opening a door of a different shift so it would be easier on me. Oh, and let’s not forget the whole timing thing of when Xavier was due. Right at tax return time, allowing me to have a nice long 12 week maternity leave.

And one of the things that’s surprised me about all my gremlins, is how much I love them. I know that sounds funny. But I’ve never been a “kid” person, or a very affectionate person either. But I am with them.

Which brings me to the title of this post. Many, many times I’ll just get an overwhelming sense of joy and happiness when I think about my littlest guy. I anticipate all the milestones he’s rapidly heading toward. Simple things like sitting up and even crawling. Babbling and sitting at the dinner table with us.

Not potty training. I’d gladly pay someone else to do that little job.

But I’m surprised because the whole thing freaked me out so much at first. And throughout the whole pregnancy. And even after I had him, when it was really hard and I was really tired.

I just consider myself blessed. And I don’t really feel equipped to be anybody’s mother, but apparently God thought I could handle giving love to one more, so I’m honored.