Babies often come when we least expect them, no?
We had arrived in San Francisco for a three-year term in dental school and were living in an $800/month, 400-square-foot apartment. I was bringing in a mere $1200 per month at first. We were by no means expecting to be expecting. But one week into those tough three years, guess what? That's right, I was expecting our firstborn son.
Although delighted by the prospect of a baby, we knew our reality was harsh. Our family was supportive, particularly after my brother reminded everyone that we were indeed married, unlike so many of the young girls he'd taught at the rural high school that took in children of migrant farm workers. Their road was really hard; ours would be difficult for just a while.
I was sick as a dog. My husband had enough foresight to advise me to quit a job I had nannying for a difficult woman. God providentially provided a job as secretary to the music minister of a large church and put me on the teaching staff of a performing arts school there, as well. And after baby was born, I was able to stay and teach at night, to boot.
Two years later I gave birth to our second son, having walked across the street to the hospital- couldn't give up a great San Francisco parking spot! Shortly after that, I moved to the town where my husband had been offered an associateship in a dental office, but he wasn't to arrive for several months so I continued to be a pseudo-single mother, as I had been largely during his years in dental school.
Life took on more of a normal tone once my husband graduated. But like many of you, I felt like I was killing a lot of time. The boys were two and newborn; what is there to do to fill up a day beyond nursing the baby and changing a few diapers? I didn't want them in front of a video constantly, their attention spans were miniscule, and we didn't have a lot of resources.
Next post I'll write about life with only little people. It wasn't terribly long ago that I was in your shoes!