Hi! Kindred Mom has kicked off the fall series and I had one go up last week. You can read the whole thing here or continue reading for a piece of it.

Do I really want to do this?

I was eight months pregnant. Four hours of tossing and turning now counted as  “a good night’s sleep” so I could have one at least every now and then. Sitting in line at a coffee hut, waiting for something called a “White Zombie” which promised even more caffeine than a regular 20oz. latte, I discussed my plans for the evening with my BFF. (Yes, I was having an ungodly amount of caffeine while pregnant. Yes, it noticeably freaked out the bowling-ball-sized boy under my shirt. But I was low on options—I needed to parent my pair of toddler girls.) 

My sister was in town for the first time since she’d moved to Europe a few years prior. We’d hung out some, but I felt a little panicked at our limited remaining time. Her plans that evening included a reunion of the book club she’d been in when she last lived here—and I was invited. 

This morning, I’d dragged myself out of bed after an even-worse-than-normal night’s sleep. I was uncomfortable (see: eight months pregnant) and grumpy. The idea of dragging my enormous, introverted self, after dinner, to a stranger’s house full of women I didn’t know (but who all knew each other) sounded…less than appealing at 11 in the morning when I was already fried. 

“I don’t know if I have it in me. I want to spend as much time with Kori as possible, but I just don’t know if I can,” I said into the phone. My friend reminded me I was free to go or to skip it, then let me talk myself in circles until I figured out what was most important to me today: I tentatively planned to go. Time with my sister was more valuable than avoiding the unpleasantness of peopling while pregnant.

As the day wore on, I continued to waffle. The regular business of toddler sass and making dinner drained what little energy I had left—the effects of my late-morning White Zombie had worn off long before—but changing a decision I’d already made seemed like more trouble than it was worth. I put on my cutest casual maternity top (making an effort, but not trying too hard) and a ton of concealer under my eyes and went. 

(Continue reading here.)

Published by robininalaska

Robin Chapman is a part-time writer, editor, and birth photographer and a full-time imperfect mama, wife, Jesus follower, and normalizer of failure. She’s trying hard to learn how to do this motherhood thing in a way that doesn’t land the whole family in intensive therapy. She has a heart for helping other mamas buried in the little years with hope, humor, and solidarity. You can find her hiding out in the bathroom with an iced dirty chai, writing and editing and making spreadsheets for KindredMom.com where she is a cheerleader for mamas, or online looking for grace in her mundane and weird life. She lives in Fairbanks, Alaska with her four delightful (crazy) kids—some homeschooled, some public schooled, some too young for school at all—and her ridiculously good looking husband, Andrew.

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