7QT: The Nesting-under-protest edition


I had this post written and scheduled several days before yesterday’s drama…so read it anyway and I’ll update you at the end,


Last week’s unexpected news from the doctor has us scrambling to prepare last-minute things. So the Sunday after Thanksgiving we came home from church to a house that needed some serious “nesting.” At 37 weeks, I’m supposed to glory in this process, am I not? Well…I’m not!


First, I discovered that the box that said “Boys, generic clothes 0-6 months,” in fact did NOT have the generic clothes in it. So I had to find the box with the girls’ 0-6 month clothes. Which, not having needed them for 4 years, was in the back bottom of the boys’ closet. “Christian, I need an intervention,” I said. “I need an adult who doesn’t have a baby sticking out the front to get the box out.”

“I’m not sure I qualify,” he said.


Incidentally, would you like to know how many generic outfits we have? Three.


Next I pulled out the “coats”–you know, those big fuzzy sleeper-with-hood-like things. One for a boy, one for a girl. “Christian,” I said, “I’m putting these in the closet. When you come pick me up from the hospital, you HAVE TO BRING THE RIGHT ONE.”

“What does it matter?”

“Um, let’s see. We have a navy blue one with a train on it, and a purple one with a flower on it.”

“I don’t care!”

;lkj;lkj;lkj;lkj;lkj;lkj (our longstanding “chat” sign for drumming fingers). “Um,” I said, “I DO.” Seriously. I scrapbook. Can you imagine coming-home pictures with a boy wearing purple, or a girl wearing a steam engine????


Slowly but surely this week, I’m ticking off the preparations. Hospital bag: packed. Outgrown clothing: put away. Sheets: in the crib, if not made. And now, this:

Notice something missing on Stocking #3 of 6?


Well, I suppose that’s enough about reluctant nesting. Coming home from Champaign, Illinois last Friday night, we explored every Christmas station available in the middle of nowhere. Just as we were coming over the last hills back home, this song came on the radio. I began lambasting it for being really stupid. And then Alex started cracking up in the back seat with every new permutation of “rigging up the lights”: One bulb goes out and they ALL go out! BLINKING? WHY ARE THEY BLINKING???? And I discovered that hangover lyric or no hangover lyric, if it makes my son laugh like he did when he was a toddler, I have to like the song.


One more link–perhaps the most important link I’ve ever shared! If you are in the position of buying gifts (Christmas, birthday, just because) for Other People’s Kids, PLEASE READ THIS!

Okay, and now you can look at my new and early cutie here: https://kathleenbasi.com/blog/2011/12/01/because-we-really-are-incapable-of-having-a-baby-withou-drama/#entry

Time for a nap.




…At 9:00, Christian and I make our way upstairs to do a little spiritual reading before going to bed. He turns on the strobe on his phone and checks the kids as he does every night, scolding, teasing or re-tucking-in depending on circumstance. Tonight, he comes into the bedroom laughing afterward: Nicholas is not asleep. In the center of his bed sits a pile of blankets almost two feet high, with no sign of footed jammies anywhere. “Nicholas, where are you?” he asks.

“Wight hee,” says Nicholas, from the opposite corner of the bunk. “I tuck my bay in!” Sure enough, Christian finds a two-inch-high stuffed Christmas ornament bear peeking out from beneath the Leaning Tower of Blankets…

…Attending Mass at Newman a few weeks ago leads to Alex begging to participate in their Christmas pageant. Because he’s not a member, he can’t have a speaking role, but he is playing a shepherd, who is to be led to the manger by an angel. Conveniently enough, his partner angel is his best (girl) friend from school. He comes out of rehearsal in high spirits. “Mommy, E__ and I are walking down the aisle together!” he says. “We hold hands!” He doesn’t understand why Mommy and Daddy have to pinch our lips to keep from laughing—or why we won’t explain it to him…

…We haven’t been down to the woods as much this year as in past years. Pregnant, tired mommy? Writing-busy mommy? Or just lazy mommy? In any case, there aren’t many days left to enjoy in the woods, so one morning I take the little ones down to the creek. I sit down, sharp rocks poking my heavy bottom, as Nicholas throws rocks. Julianna stands with her toes at the very edge of the creek, throws a rock or two, and then, quietly, without fuss, comes over to me and plants herself on my left leg for a snuggle. Fine brown hair against my cheek, body nestled against mine. We look up together as an unexpectedly warm late-fall wind sets the bare sycamores and russet-crowned oaks to dancing. “Buh-buh-buh,” she says as a bird flies overhead—one of many protowords she uses now. And it is a perfect moment…quiet, serene, and all too fleeting…

Head of a fetus, aged 29 weeks, in a "3D ...

…I sit at the computer desk, and my insides flutter. I know that by bedtime I’ll feel bloated; in the middle of the night, the baby will shift so far to one side that I’ll moan as I try to roll over–that by morning, my back will ache from lack of support. But in this moment, the raindrop-trickle of little limbs and fingers on my insides feels like grace itself…

There are so many things to be thankful for, this week of giving thanks. I whisper the list silently skyward, but these I preserve and share.

May the coming holiday be full of grace, and peace, and love. I’ll see you all back here on Monday.

What I Will Miss About Pregnancy


 I’ve reached that point in pregnancy now where I just want it to be over, where it’s all too easy to think only of how miserable it is. This is the point for which I wrote my advice on being pregnant with grace. So today I’m going to come up with ten things I love about being pregnant…things I will actually miss if, as I expect, this is indeed the last one.

1. Cute clothes that actually look good on me.

2. Ultrasounds. I had another one at 32 weeks—they found fluid in the kidneys at 24 weeks and wanted to check in again. I’ve never had a high-powered ultrasound so late, and even though it was only 2D, I was watching my baby’s face in motion, and I could almost see the contours well enough to know what s/he will look like. It was amazing.

3. Anticipation. Not finding out the gender. Coming, slowly or quickly, to an opinion about which it is, and finding out that I’m right. Or not. Either way, it’s a ton of fun.

4. Baby movements. At least, as long as Baby’s not trying to perform the C-section from inside. Or tickling me under the ribs. Or punching the bladder nerve. But I love being able to feel the contour of an entire limb. It’s so cool.

5. Having little boys press their lips against my belly and call “Good night, baby! It’s time to go to sleep now!”

6. The built-in-opportunity for sex ed with my child who is old enough to get it. If Julianna was at age level, I’d have two kids this would apply to, but as it is Alex is the only beneficiary. Still, it’s good for him to see the process in motion, and see it as holy. I want my kids to grow up with a sense of sexuality that is north of repression but south of promiscuity. And I think seeing the process in action is a great way to achieve that.

7. No underarm odor. I know, that’s gross. (And it’s weird. But it’s true. And I LOVE it.)

8. People being willing to do things for me that I’m perfectly capable of doing myself. Although frankly, that stage is past. Because now most of those things I really can’t do.

9. The motivation to eat carefully and keep my weight as much under control as possible. Because I think that’s good discipline for after.

10. The chance to participate in something truly miraculous, something that truly changes the world.

There you go. I assigned myself the number ten and wondered if I would be able to fill it, but I did. And it puts me in a better frame of mind to face this day, which is T minus five weeks (please God, no snow storms on the 14th or 15th of December!!!)

When It’s Time To Say, “Enough”


In natural family planning circles, there are certain words you’re not supposed to say. Like: “This is the last baby.” The very definition of openness to God’s will is that you never close off the possibility of another child, that you should be asking instead, “Is this month a good month to try to conceive, or do we have a good reason to postpone pregnancy?” It may not be—it may not ever be again—but you should never fix a number and say, “Okay, done.”

So I have been somewhat circumspect about this pregnancy. But I do expect it to be the last. Four C-sections take a toll on a body. I’ve never been sick as much as I have been the last five years. Right now I seem to be on a schedule: sick for ten days, healthy for fourteen.

Last week, my mother went with me to St. Louis for my 33-week appointment; she visited her mother and watched my kids while I saw the doctor and had meetings at Liguori Publications. On the way home, she gently chastised me for the close spacing of my children, and how much of a toll it takes on the body. She wanted us to stop planning everything so much, and just let God give us children on His own schedule.

We have chosen to have our children close together because infertility got us off to a very late start, and because we wanted our children to have built-in playmates. But now we have a child with special needs, sandwiched between two boys who have their own needs and concerns. These three and the baby they already love on in utero are a gift to each other, and to us as parents, but they need time and attention from us, too. They have gifts that need nurturing, too. I need to have time to teach them all about responsibility and chores, to teach them to cook and bake and clean, not to mention how to love God and others through what they do from one day to the next.

As an NFP teacher and a writer for our magazine, I feel terribly conflicted. Many of the families I encounter have six and seven children and thrive. Many of the women I interview show such grace as full-time mothers. They don’t try to write (or anything else) from home. They pour all their energies into the tasks I outlined above, and are at peace with that as their calling. And it’s beautiful. It truly is beautiful.

I always thought I would be one of those mothers, but I’m not. There’s this restless need in me to make an impact on the world through the gifts I’ve been given. That’s actually what I was aiming toward when I began writing today, but it’s becoming clear that the two are separate posts. Are not all the gifts God gives us meant to be used, even if we are the only ones who can bear children?

Yet when I think of the women and men out there who long for children and haven’t been blessed—when I see the great beauty that comes with every baby and the way he or she expands the capacity for love felt by the older siblings—I think, “How could any other concern possibly justify not doing this again, if we can possibly manage it?”

But then I spend a week barely functional because of low-grade nausea. And my entire pelvic girdle aches at every step after walking two miles in the morning. And I spend five minutes on my feet in the middle of the night three times as round ligament pains rouse me from slumber and force me out of bed to walk them off. And I realize that I can’t do it all. At some point, I have to take care of me, too. And it makes me a little sad. But at the same time, I look forward to graduating from this phase of life and into the next.

I know many of you are beyond this point. How did you discern when it came time to move on?

Too Much Of A Good Thing (a Unisom story)

Let Sleeping Children Lie

Image by stewickie via Flickr

I should have known it couldn’t last. Frankly, I didn’t even really believe it would work. After all, I wasn’t actually taking it to help me sleep…though Heaven knows, I could use it! No, this little blue (generic) (Walgreen’s) pill was part of a cocktail to ease third trimester nausea. I didn’t want to drug myself, so I suffered through two extra days after the doctor told me to try it before giving in.

Nothing has ever knocked me out the way that tiny pill did. I slept from 9:30 p.m. until 5:30 a.m., post-time-change. Nine hours in bed? Me? Madame I-function-on-five-hours-of-sleep-a-night? I slept through the night? (Well, except for that time Nicholas woke up wailing, and Christian would not wake up. “Oh, for crying out loud!” I snapped as I hauled my pregnant body out of bed. “I’m the one who took a sleeping pill!”)

At 5:30 I went downstairs and turned on the computer. While it warmed up I went over to the couch…and conked out again.

It was a single parenting day…Christian had the mother of all announcements coming out at work in the afternoon, so he went to early Mass and returned home to find that I had dressed and fed the kids…and gone back to sleep.

I had to lead the choir. From the piano. The queasiness was somewhat better, but that sleepiness…wow. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through Mass without toppling off the bench.

With help from an obliging alto, I got the kids to the van and back home. In a fog I put lunch on the table. Answered Christian’s phone call. “Is it possible this is the Unisom still making me feel this way?” I said blearily.

Pause. “Oh, crap,” he said. “I’m not going to be home till at least 6:30.”

I hauled myself up the stairs after the little ones, muscled them down for naps. “Alex, you can play computer games,” I said, and collapsed into bed. And woke up an hour and a half later. Mustered the energy to make the first fresh meal in four days. I didn’t have the energy for a side dish. I offered microwave popcorn instead. And a movie.

Christian walked in at 7p.m. At 8:30 p.m., the fog finally began to clear.

Ah, Unisom. My one and only one-night stand. It was nice knowing you. Or not.

Just Write      Write on Edge: RemembeRED

I Filled The Diaper Drawer. Then I Freaked Out.


They’re so small.

You’d think that a mother approaching the birth of her fourth child in seven years (well, 7 ½) wouldn’t be floored by the sheer tininess. But as I pulled out our trusty cloth diapers, counted them, stacked them in the drawer, I couldn’t believe it. Every single baby diaper fit in one drawer. After close-on four years of double diapering, it just blew my mind.

I have to admit, I’m kind of freaking out here. People get out of the habit of having babies around, and then they feel a tug in the heart to have another, but they think back on the intensity of the experience, and they get scared off. When we started trying for #4, we were still in full-on Baby mode. But it took us six months to conceive. A lot can change in six months. And a lot more in the nine months that follow. We are no longer a baby household. We are a nighttime-and-nap-time-diapers family. A my-youngest-child-is-talking family. An everyone-has-chores (although they don’t always do them) family.

But seven weeks from now…

Well, let just say it’s making me think about how many more things than diaper drawers are going to change.

Some nights, I already get up seven times in six hours. How in the name of all that is holy am I going to comfort Julianna after a nightmare, the drama king when he has a runny nose, AND nurse a baby during the night?

How am I going to exercise? And post a blog? It’s already a delicate balance to do those two things and still get Alex off to school.

How am I going to chase down the munchkins when they run in opposite directions and I have a baby attached to the breast? (Is it possible to run and nurse simultaneously?)

I’m well aware that the writing is going to have to simmer down for a while. A good long while. But, um, I can’t even get the house clean now. How can I add the time commitment of a newborn on to the kid commitments I already have? The last time I had a baby, Alex was in preschool for a whopping two mornings a week. I freaked out when he had eight weeks of baseball once a week. And now it’s all-day school and piano lessons and homework, and Julianna on the bus, and Julianna’s speech homework, and…

Folks, I’m a little intimidated by what my life’s about to become.

Don’t get me wrong. It’ll all be worth it. The back shot, the surgery, the two weeks without driving and six weeks without lifting, the sleepless nights. It’ll already be worth it a week in—a day in. But there were plenty of times in Nicholas’s first six months when I lost all semblance of cool. And as I begin to contemplate the change to come, I’m kind of scared.

Pour some loving on me, folks.

Just Write

7 Quick Takes, vol. 148



31 weeks, and…am I still running?…I don’t really know, because I haven’t been able to exercise since Monday. I did run on Monday. Does that count?


Yesterday I was asked twice how I’m feeling this late-pregnancy, and I realized I haven’t acknowledged something important: I am doing much better this time than last. I would never have believed that simple crunches and leg lifts would be sufficient strengthening to ward off the I-can’t-walk-or-support-my-weight pain that followed me all the way through the third trimester last time. I have hints of it, but so far, so good. The other thing that I fought last time was constant nausea, which I also don’t have–but that, my doctor told me, was a result of relaxin in combination with eating too much roughage and grease at the same time. I’m thinking a lot about the grease factor in my meal planning this pregnancy, and it’s really made a difference.


The thing about me and illnesses during pregnancy is that they are kind of like atmospheric blocking. Christian brought that term home from work one day and I thought it applied perfectly. When I’m pregnant and I get a cold, it lasts forever. Usually a cold sweeps through a person’s system, pounding them with symptoms and then clearing out. But when I’m pregnant, I get one symptom at a time, and they last for days. So, from Saturday to Wednesday this week, I had no voice. That time span included Mass with the choir, in which I was half the women, a presentation to the med students on Down’s, and leading choir rehearsal on Wednesday. Grr.


The onset of cool weather means two things: first, I am no longer boiling hot all the time, anymore! Second, I was finally able to cook my pie pumpkin this week. Here’s the recipe I used. Although I haven’t made the pie yet, only the pumpkin. Small bites, folks. Small bites.


Julianna and I went to talk to the med students for the second time this week. I was slightly concerned going in; how could we possibly top the last time? But this time, she waltzed into the room yelling “hi!” and hit the flirtation running. She was awesome, people. Umm…except for that little part where she knocked over the table that had a computer on it.


Last week the post that generated the most conversation was about Christmas shopping. In case others are as interested as I was, I thought I would share that this week I received in the mail a catalog from Heifer, International, which gives you the option of purchasing a whole animal or a share in one to give to impoverished people around the world. They suggested using these as gifts for teachers. I was astonished. What a good idea! I know nothing about this organization–it’s the first time I’ve received this–but I know in the past I’ve gotten catalogs from Food For the Poor along the same lines. I’ve thought of it in terms of donations, but never, never in terms of gifts. Any teachers out there want to weigh in? How would you feel about having something like this given in your name in place of gift cards and cookies and hot chocolate mugs?


Those of you who are fellow bloggers know that there are certain watersheds you’re supposed to celebrate on a blog. Like when you reach your first anniversary, or your fifth, or the biggie: the 1,000th post. I passed that milestone about six weeks ago. You’re “supposed” to give out prizes and host drawings and giveaways and all sorts of stuff. I started thinking about what I would write for that post, and decided that it would be a reflection on numbers and why we’re obsessed with them. Only when the time came, I realized I had much more important things to say. I kept that post on my list for two more weeks, and then gave up. I mean, it’s just a number, right? 🙂

Have a great weekend!

7 quick takes sm1 7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 148)