Domestic Bliss Report

Motherhood is hard work. If we don't stick together, we'll all fall apart.

Sunday, March 18, 2007


In December 2000, Dale and I had been married fourteen months and were living in a third-floor, two-bedroom apartment. I was in my second year teaching in the public school, outearning Dale in his fourth year of law practice. We were on my insurance because the bar plan at his tiny firm (3.5 lawyers) was both expensive and meager. We were living paycheck to paycheck; I think we were still paying on my student loans, even.
So what did we do? Decided to try for a baby.

Did we have space in our apartment for a baby? Of course not; the second bedroom was taken up with bookshelves, stored knickknacks, and the computer.
Did we have any money for a downpayment on a house that would have room for a child? Of course not; between student loans and credit cards, "savings" were a myth.
Did we have sick days set aside for maternity leave? Of course not; I was only in my second year and we got ten days per.
Since I had to work for the insurance, did we have any idea about daycare for the baby? Of course not; whenever I thought about it, I got nauseous.
Did we have any idea how the pregnancy would treat me medically? Of course not; but we had horror stories of mothers needing to be admitted for IV-hydration because of crippling morning sickness.

We did it anyway. We stepped off the precipice, put it in God's hands, and tried. And conceived the first month.

Then what happened? These are out of chronological order, but...
Three of Dale's cases settled favorably, giving him enough of a bonus that we had a downpayment for a house.
Pregnancy treated me very well with only a little queasiness in the mornings and girls' sensitivity.
Dale found a new job working for a much bigger company with commensurate pay. The benefits are better, it has regular hours and a healthy respect for holidays.
We found a house we could afford in a not-terrible neighborhood that gave us more storage room than the apartment.
My brother's wife decided to open a licensed, in-home daycare roughly two miles from the house we decided to buy. She and my brother were the ones we asked to be godparents, coincidentally.

So we didn't have all of the answers the first time around; honestly, we didn't have any. We put it in His hands and went with it.
All of this just occurred to me this morning during the opening hymn at Mass. I think I have my answer.

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