Does it mean this was an, um, surprise? (Does anyone really care about this? I mean, apparently they do. But I will never understand why. Get a hobby).
Does it mean you're going to be like that crazy Duggar lady and keep going until your uterus falls out? (To my knowledge, this has not actually happened. However, the possibility that it could happen is a frequently mentioned reason why random internet strangers think she should stop having kids. Also, we have four kids. I was never good at math, but to my knowledge, four does not equal nineteen. Or twenty-two, in case her uterus has still not fallen out and she's had more and I've missed it).
Does it mean you lost your mind? (Not yet. But soon.)
Some people think it means your life--or some part of it--is over. I guess that's true. The part of it that had briefly moved on from chronic sleep deprivation, and diapers, and crying--that part is over for now. But I know from experience that that part doesn't last that long. Not really. Not when you look back from the vantage point of a first birthday, or a preschool graduation, or a first day of kindergarten. That part doesn't last long at all. None of it does.
What does it mean?
It means our house got smaller. There is no baby's room, or nursery, no quiet place to put this baby that's all his own.
It means our house got messier. I don't know how, given that this baby can't really make his own mess yet. But somehow it did. God help me in a year or two.
It means things got louder. If you've been to our house, you may not have thought that was possible. I didn't either. Trust me, it was quiet here before.
It means our bank account got smaller, our car got more crowded, and my briefly clean clothes are now covered in spit up again.
It means that people look at you funny in the grocery store...sometimes with compassion, often with skepticism, occasionally with fear. I can't say that I blame them.
They say things like "You have your hands full", and "Bet you don't get much sleep", and "Wow! Four!", as if four really does equal nineteen or twenty-two. Maybe it's the new math.
They also say things like "Whose baby is that?" (Oh, I just borrowed my friend's brand new infant, because I thought it would be fun to carry a crying newborn through the grocery store while chasing a four year old and trying to remember what the hell I need here in the paper goods aisle).
They ask if we know how this happens (Ha. You're hilarious. As if I haven't heard that one four thousand times in the past six months. Also, did you learn the new math?) They also ask me if I need help out to my car more often. Help to my car? No. Help once I get home? Yes. Please.
Having four kids means all of these things. But in addition to all of the things that got harder, and louder, and smaller, it means that a lot of things have also gotten bigger.
My fears, my worries, and the bags under my eyes.
My need for coffee, my dreams of a nanny, and my butt.
My purse that doubles as a diaper bag as I stuff it full of diapers, and wipes, and pacifiers that he won't take. My diaper bag that doubles as a purse as I try to remember to bring my wallet, and my keys, and a hairbrush since I can't remember if I brushed my hair
But the thing that's grown most of all is our hearts.
So yeah, we've probably lost our minds a little, and we have some adjusting to do. But when someone looks at me, does a double take, and says "Whose baby is that?", I just smile and say "He's ours. Aren't we lucky?"
Depending on where they are in life, they may not now how to answer that, and that's ok.
Sometimes the only answer that matters is your own. And mine is quite simple.
"What does it mean to have four kids?"
It means another person to love, it means a new little brother, and it means our hearts are fuller than we knew they could be.
What does it mean?
Quite simply, it means everything.
