Four children does make for a large family. A family with four kids cannot survive with a standard sedan - a minivan or those special 7-seater SUVs are a necessity. It means having a Costco membership and knowing when the warehouse sales are being held for children's shoes, toys and clothes. While the cost of extra-curricular activities do increase with each new addition, I've discovered that "family" memberships usually mean two adults and up to four children. Many organizations also offer discounts with each sibling. Next year, Aisling's school photos will be free!
Several years ago I read an article that more and more families were having three children, but four or more was not a popular option. Families with two cannot fathom having three or more. With two children, it's easy to implement the idea of "divide and conquer". Three or more means playing zone defence. Of course, once you've mastered zone, going from three to more is easy. It's all about the teaching the older ones to become more independent and responsible for themselves and their younger siblings.
Yet, tell anyone you have four kids and the looks of wonder and surprise are all too common. In this day and age where two is the norm, we are getting used to the stares. Although in a strange coincidence, Devlin's soccer team last year boasted 4 families with four kids, or soon-to-be four kids. What were the odds of that?!
And then there was the time we got mistaken for a daycare. As I shepherded my brood in downtown Toronto - baby strapped to my chest, with a knapsack on my back, yelling at the others to walk in single file while instructing them to take in the sights of city hall and the Nathan Phillips Square - we probably did look like group on a field trip.
Four kids from one marriage is pretty significant. Apparently so too is the fact that I work outside of the home. How could I not? I need my career for my sanity and we need to be able to house, feed and clothe the offspring. Although at times, I muse about trying to stay home after my year's leave. But that's another post for another time, and quite possibly the product of too many
Sometimes I gaze upon my children, and wonder how I ended up in this position. No I don't mean that, but how did I even become a mother of one, let alone four. Back in the days when I only had two kids, I'd be driving the minivan and I'd have the odd sensation that I was living someone else's life. I'd peek in the rearview mirror, see two little faces and be jolted by the knowledge that the two kids in the back belonged to me. I'm sure there are several members of my family who would also admit to surprise and bewilderment at my predicament. Even though I am the eldest of four children, my younger siblings would probably not use "nurturing" to describe me. I'm sure there are some other choice adjectives that quickly come to their lips instead. My mother would echo them.
And if I had ever considered my talents as a gardener as any indication of my parenting abilities, I would never have signed up to be mother. I am notoriously horrible in the gardening department. While both my grandmother and mother have green thumbs, sadly I do not. I think I once killed a cactus. Every year, I optimistically plant some seeds in the hopes of increasing the curb appeal of our home. Of course, part of the problem is the lack of time I have to devote to weeding, fertilizing, and general maintenance beyond watering. Once the plants start to grow and some colourful buds appear, I leave it be. I figure "why mess with nature - it's doing fine on its own". This year, after spending a few minutes researching, I have learned that one needs to prune, deadhead, and regularly check for weeds to nurture the plants. Who has the time? Answer - not the mother of four kids.
But I reached into my childhood memories as I snuggled Quinn next to my old blue teddy bear who also reached his 40th year. I thought about the toys I played with and the games I played. I remember always playing "house" and being the "mom". We had a plastic table and chairs, toy dishes and cutlery that I would arrange in my "kitchen". I remember having baby dolls but they were made of hard plastic, so I would instead wrap my teddy bears in blankets and have them as my "babies". There were at least two babies - the blue bear and a pink bear. Rather than playing "school" and being the teacher like my sister Shunaha, I always gravitated to my wrapped babies. Hmmm, perhaps my childhood games mapped out my life's paths.
I know my four kids are more than enough for us. We are lucky and blessed to have four beautiful and healthy children. But that doesn't mean I don't feel a twinge of sadness to acknowledge that we are done with adding to the world's population.
Logically I know that I am done having children. For one, I am now 40 years old. I don't think my body would ever recover from the stress of another pregnancy. It's been almost 6 months, and I still haven't found my pre-baby body. I think it's gone forever. Scientifically, I know the risks of having a child with abnormalities increase significantly once you're over 40.
I also gave away all of my maternity clothes, save for the pieces I am returning to my sister. When I returned home with Quinn, I boxed up all of the baby girl clothes and donated those too! As Quinn outgrows his baby clothes, I am packing and readying them to be passed on. Same with the baby equipment and paraphernalia he outgrows.
Intellectually I know we are not having any more children. Neither one of us has the patience of Job and our sanity would never return if we had another. We couldn't afford to anyways. But, emotionally I am bereft to know I will never again have the sensation of being nudged and kicked from within. I will never hold a naked, squalling seconds-old infant against my chest.
So I'll try to memorize every sensation in the moments I have with Quinn. The sweet baby's breath. The satisfying weight of a slumbering infant on your chest or arm. The feeling of invincibility when his sobbing halts the moment I pick him up and cuddle him against chest. The peace that washes over me when he snuggles his face into my neck and sighs. I am not going to wish he'd grow up faster, or start crawling soon, or even sit up. My baby is already growing up too quickly. Not yet six months and he has sprouted two teeth, is eating solids (or rather purees), and creeping along the floor on his tummy. No, I want time to slow down so I won't forget any of these precious moments. I want to remember forever this period in his life when his mommy is the only one that matters to him. When his mother is one that will meet his needs, comfort him and bring a smile to his face. This brief stage of life when mommy is the center of his universe - before toys and play times, friends and siblings, sports and action heroes take over.
