37 weeks. Wow. Like so many things in life, it feels like it’s been the fastest and the slowest 9 months of my life. Fastest because, well, we have two other little ones and that inherently means there is not much down time. Slowest because it’s certainly not been easy being pregnant and maintaining the active lifestyle of having two kids. But we made it! And we cannot wait to meet our newest little Gammon. I’ve been staring at the baby’s 20 week sonogram just imagining what he/she will be like, and how he or she will also bring us an immeasurable amount of joy just by being a part of our family. Laina and Elijah have enabled Sam and I to grow so much just by being around them, understanding their little personalities, watching them develop their own bond.
I came across this poem and it was such an important reminder to me at such an important time. There’s certainly the desire to continuously “nest” and ensure that everything is in order before the baby arrives, but I’m also feeling the need to just slow down totally and take in these last few weeks with Laina and Elijah before things get a bit more hectic around here. It’s sometimes difficult to keep things in perspective when there is so much to balance when having small children, so this was a good reminder to me as I can definitely become overwhelmed by the pressure I put on myself to keep up with all the household stuff.
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rock-a-bye, Lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek-peek-a-boo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there is a hullabaloo.
But I’m playing “Kanga” and this is my “Roo.”
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rock-a-bye, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.
Ruth Hulburt Hamilton, 1958
