Okay. Maybe it wasn’t a year. More like 18 months. Who would have thought five kids would keep me so busy I couldn’t keep up with my beloved blog? Do people even read blogs anymore? I sure hope so. It’s always been a favorite medium of mine. Maybe they’ll make a comeback, like vinyl.

Yes, indeed. You read that right. In 2025, I brought another beautiful baby into the world. In 2024, Sully was baby number four under three, boy number two, and we were D-O-N-E, DONE. I had my two girls and my two boys and we were eager to start the next stage of life. During delivery, I was told not to have more, further cementing our family of six… until one month later, when my doctor completely changed her tune, insisting it would be fine. Never in my life have my mind and heart changed on a dime like they did that day, one month post-partum, baby Sully at home with Jake, our twin two-year-olds, and our 17-month-old. I had walked into that office certain that my family was whole and left knowing it wasn’t. Jake was hesitant, of course. Surely it was just hormones, but as the months passed and I prayed that God would turn his heart if this was what he truly wanted, I knew. I knew we weren’t done. In time, without much prodding, Jake came around and on April 30, 2025, I underwent another embryo transfer.

You’d think that was enough drama for a year, but before we even knew if we were pregnant, my sweet Sully was diagnosed with congenital glaucoma and scheduled for near emergency surgery. It wasn’t just a droopy eye. Just thirteen months after bringing him into the world, I had to watch him go through double doors on his own, in a Daniel Tiger hospital gown, hoping to save his sight.

Ugh. That was a rough day. Our Sully did well, though. While there’s likely some litigation in our future with the optomestrists who repeatedly misdiagnosed him, the surgery went well. His right eye is fine and while he’s lost all peripheral vision in his left, he can see and function when we patch his good eye. Stairs just aren’t his friend. My days are full of chasing around a giggling, screaming, tantrum throwing newly two-year-old with eye patches, glasses, and eye drops. But while he’ll never be a fighter pilot, my baby can see. When he grows up, he will primarily have his mother to thank for that fact.

By this point, we’d confirmed our pregnancy, which quickly went from an identical twin pregnancy to a singleton, another heartbreaking experience. God has his plan, though, and while I’m once again just four months post-partum, I do believe that plan is for us to have another child. My pregnancy progressed and we began to consider how our life would actually look with five children under five still at home. We’d always planned to start the girls to school late, but we weren’t sure the following year would be as good for them with a pregnancy and a new baby at home. After a lot of thought, we applied for the school choice vouchers and enrolled our baby girls in Catholic school. Three weeks before they started, my parents gave us a bunkbed so we could make room for a new baby girl long before she came. One week later, I let Tommy play in his sisters’ room during nap time, because they’d be going to school in two weeks and I figured it would be good for them to spend time together. After a couple of hours, I heard crying and found Tommy lying on the bed weakly weeping and soaked in sweat. He’d fallen off the top bunk and fractured his skull.

Oh em jingles, y’all. He was two. How the hell am I supposed to cope with boymomdom for the rest of my life? Those hospital couches are not getting any more comfortable and they’re pretty miserable at 37 and pregnant. It was the worst sleep of my life with my baby waking up every couple of hours crying because he didn’t know where he was. I couldn’t hold him or sleep with him in the hospital crib. After 12 hours, I still wasn’t sure if he’d need surgery. Fortunately, we received the all-clear the next morning and I was able to take my baby boy home. His sisters were thrilled to have him back and excitedly told everyone for weeks that “Tommy broke his head.” It was an exciting month, because just a week later, Jake started his new position working for a larger city, the state capital. He received close to a $15k raise, better benefits and leave, and a much brighter future. Our whirlwhind summer was rounded off with our baby girls’ first day of pre-k4.

As for starting your twins to pre-k while three months pregnant, I’d give it a 0/10, do not recommend… and so would my Violet. Scarlett was pretty gung-ho after the initial adjustment, but we were three weeks deep into the school year before Violet stopped screaming as they dragged her bodily from the car. One morning, I tried to console her by telling her she could watch Superman (1978 version) when we got home. She looked at me with all the newly four-year-old rage she could muster, pointed her finger, and screamed “NO! I WILL NOT WATCH SUPERMAN!” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I pulled over and did both.

Aside from prepping for baby Elizabeth, the rest of the year went fairly smoothly. Having children in the school at our church, among other current events, seemed to have triggered something in Jake and we started attending OCIA classes so he could convert to Catholocism. My birthday came and went, as did his. For Halloween, we pulled off another epic family costume.

The rest of the year was… well, exhausting. Thanskgiving was quickly followed by Tommy’s third birthday, which of course had to be as big as possible, since he’ll have to share his Christmas birthday with his baby sister for the rest of his life. Everyone in our lives expected full participation in all the family dinners and gatherings, regardless of the chaos we were experiencing at home. I put the changing table together myself a week before the scheduled C-section. Her baby blanket was finished three days before she arrived. I went a little overboard on Christmas, because I felt I had to make up for bringing a new baby home six days prior and ended up calling my OB in pain at 4 am.

OB: “Have you been taking it easy?”
Me: “Yes.”

NO! IT’S TWO DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS AND I HAVE FIVE CHILDREN UNDER FIVE, ONE OF THEM FOUR DAYS OLD. OF COURSE I AM NOT TAKING IT EASY!

The kids had a beautiful Christmas, though, complete with what probably amounted to too many stocking stuffers from Santa, along with their Step 2 “roller coaster,” which was the best purchase of the season. They went to all the Christmas parties, while I snuggled my new baby.

After all that, Sully turned two in April. We celebrated the same day we baptized baby Betty. Jake converted to Catholocism. We celebrated nine years of marriage last week. Our baby girls will finish their first year of pre-k next Friday. Now that you’re all caught up… if anyone is still reading… I hope I can continue to update this blog. Even without a single reader, it’s still dear to my heart when I read back on this amazing, chaotic, unexpected existence of mine.