Less than twelve weeks left. (Give or take. I hope for the latter; I know bigger babies sleep better but we can’t wait to meet you Owen!)

I can’t believe our time is coming to an end with just me & Jack. It will never be just the two of us again.

It’s ironic to me that the last post I wrote before we found out that Amelia would die was about this very same thing. “I can’t believe how fast the gap is closing of only having one kiddo in our home.” Well, in retrospect now I can’t believe how long it took to get to bring another baby home. (These kiddos will be almost 4 years apart—something I never, ever envisioned for our family but it turns out some of our best-laid plans can be spoiled.)

I went back and forth for months and months about whether I even wanted more kids after Amelia. And of course, deep down beneath that fear I did want more children.

But let’s be honest with each other—obviously bringing my last baby home to die opened my eyes to terrifying possibilities that I’d rather avoid. It was a blessing in so many ways but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. So one kid sounded really nice.

Tyler never pressured me for this baby. He let me take my time, and I love him dearly for it. But sometimes when my body aches and I’m exhausted by 11am, I wish I would have waited longer. 3 babies in 5 years is no joke to your body.

And then I sit down and relax a little and remember again how blessed I am. Friends, help me remember gratitude. I truly believe (and have seen in my life again and again) that it’s the one principle that can fix almost anything.

When the days get hard and the nights are long, gratitude. When I feel like my body is failing me and my spirit is about to collapse, gratitude. When I feel like a hippo with a bowling ball of a stomach (see above), gratitude. Because the day will soon come when there’s a healthy little squirming baby in my arms again.

And I will look at baby Owen and be so grateful I took the plunge. Even now, I can’t imagine our lives without him.