Something that homesteading has taught me is that life can fall into a predictable routine, a rhythm of working with the seasons and a schedule to life that ebbs and flows around the farm. And then of course other things tend to fall into place, mess up the natural order of things, and everyone kind of tries to find a new rhythm and continue onward.
That's kind of a roundabout, totally vague and bewildering way of saying that life on the farm this year has taken a different turn than normal because we're expecting. Me, this time, not another animal (although we do have other animals on the farm that are currently in various stages of gestation).
Since we've moved to our little farmhouse, our family has grown by two additional babies. Our third daughter was born a couple months after we unpacked the very last box after moving in, and the recovery from that took the better part of the year for me. We didn't do much homesteading at all then: a little garden for the kids to pick veggies from; two puppies that were constantly getting excited by the drip systems and insisted on ripping them apart; and the acquisition of several kittens in order to keep the rodent population at bay. And then later on, when our little baby was a toddler, we got a couple pigs and then a few chickens and guineas.
Two years later, our fourth daughter was born at the very start of the pandemic shutdown. It was a quiet time of year for us, and we were only just in the beginning stages of planning out a farm. Because supply chains and food shortages were something of a discussion topic around the dinner table, we kind of jumped into the process with both feet. My husband and I put in around 40 fruit trees that year. We got more pigs. More chickens. Ducks. Turkeys. And a milk cow. We expanded our garden and tried many experiments. (Many failed. A few were successful. Everything was a learning opportunity.) Much of that year was spent with a little baby strapped to my chest or my back. My littlest one loved being in the baby carrier and I got a lot done with her gurgling away, trying to mimic the animal noises, and getting pretty dirty right along with me. It was a great help that at this point, my older girls were more independent and could entertain themselves (and most importantly, not be constantly in danger) without my direct supervision. When my baby could sit up and crawl, her sisters spent many an afternoon spreading out towels and blankets on the grass and the four of them would spend their time getting all of our linens dusty/muddy.
As for the homesteading side of things, everything moved slower, especially when the babies are small. I had to work in 1 hour increments or so to allow time for diaper changes and nursing. And also, had to curb my enthusiasm to do heavy lifting chores. No excessive digging operations. No spending time on my hands and knees trying to pull out a stubborn root or weed. I would sort of chip away at the little tasks, and on the weekends, my husband would swoop in, and I'd follow him around explaining the things I was trying to do, couldn't finish, or needed him to help me with (we still do it this way, but I was less helpful with a baby on my back, and being badly balanced).
And now my littlest one is three... and we are expecting a fifth in the middle of the summer. We're a bit more experienced in the homesteading operation, although there is always a long list of projects, big and small, that have to be done. The beginning of my pregnancy was uneventful (farm-wise). I consider myself lucky to not have bad bouts of morning sickness, but it's a general chronic fatigue, lack of appetite, and because I'm older (I guess I'm now considered a geriatric pregnancy---lovely phrase), require a great deal more rest. I spent a few weeks in bed, actually. I couldn't really be on my feet for more than an hour or two before feeling bone-achingly exhausted. In those times, I didn't even think about the farm. Who cares about starting seeds or amending the garden beds when I didn't even have the energy to sit up?
Thankfully, my husband works from home and jumped in to cover a lot of tasks. My parents and in-laws live very close to us, and they would swing by to pick up the kids for a day to play or catch up on school work. My oldest daughter is very good at whipping up some scrambled eggs or quesadillas for breakfast and lunch, and she's quite the little mother to her younger sisters. I am very grateful for having such an incredible support system within arm's reach, always ready to take care of us. We didn't have a cow in milk, so the animal chores were minimal, and my first trimester was at the start of a stormy winter season, so the majority of it was quiet, thank goodness.
We've moved on from that fatigue, and I am now back on my feet, and itching to make up for lost time. I'm quite a bit bigger now, though, so I have to move a little slower to not lose my balance in the mud and my bump gets in the way of the wheelbarrow and bending over the garden beds as we start putting in additional soil, compost, and the first little starts of the season. Being a little more clumsy, a little more fatigued, having to stop to catch my breath, or admitting that no, I can't push the full wheel-barrow up the hill is a hard pill for me to swallow. I spent three years in between pregnancies, working hard on the ground. My husband telling people that I was the one who did the big farm projects was a source of pride for me. Sometimes my mom used to joke that she couldn't quite believe that I went from stilettos to muck boots, but I also remember spending my college days in coveralls drilling holes along the side of the road, driving forklifts and shoveling asphalt and being one of the only girls on the field crew as part-time work in college. I've spent hours on my feet working in lab freezers and bussing tables at restaurants and in general, throwing myself completely into whatever I was doing, especially if it was physical labor. I have a very strong, visceral reaction to being told I can't do something, and then go about attemping to prove everyone wrong, physical limitations be damned. Homesteading is no different. My husband and I work hard. The end of a farm day, we usually collapse on the couch, muddy boots outside the door, the dirt smudges on hands and faces, sticky with sweat, and not really looking forward to getting up to make dinner. But there would be another thing we could check off the list, and sore muscles and aching joints was the reward for that hard work.
I can't really do that same kind of physical exertion now. It's frustrating, but also an important time for me to remember what to prioritize. This is the chance for me to focus on myself and this little one growing inside of me. It becomes especially more important with every passing year because not only am I "geriatric," but I am also high-risk, being someone with Type II diabetes. The older I get, and with every pregnancy, the recovery is longer. My health takes a little longer to bounce back, and so taking things slowly and carefully now means I'll have the reserves to recover better in the months to come.
I had a conversation at one of my doctor appointments. They were trying to have me list the kinds of food that I eat during the day, and the amount of exercise I get. But we make a lot of our food from scratch. I don't have nutritional labels to read off the macro information and count carbs like you can for store-bought foods.
"What kind of milk do you drink? We recommend a 1% or skim."
"Well, we have a milk cow. Or if we don't get milk from her, we milk share with friends. I usually skim the cream off of that to make our butter, but I don't know if it's 1% or not."
"Ok... What kind of yogurt do you eat? We recommend a zero sugar, low carb variety like this <brand name>"
"I make our yogurt with our milk. Same for the cheese...."
"How about bread? There are a lot great low-carb options. Corn tortillas and keto wraps are great as well."
"I make sourdough about twice a week. Sometimes I switch it up and make pita. I've tried making some corn tortillas at home, but I couldn't tell you how many carbs are in each serving, unfortunately. Same with our pastas and things."
"Ok. Well... let's talk about your glucometer. Are you sterilizing with the alcohol wipes before your tests?"
"Um. No... I wash my hands with the soap my mom makes, though."
*she sighs.*
To make things easier for them, I do buy some snacks and things from the store now so that I can keep track of the numbers in my log books... also since we don't have a cow in milk currently, I can keep track of that as well, but for a time, I did enjoy being a little difficult :)
The medical staff taking care of me are encouraged by the amount of physical work that I do. Whenever I clomp into the doctor's office in my muck boots, I get a few looks from people, but they're my most comfortable shoes. Everyone agrees that I shouldn't probably be pushing full wheelbarrows, but they do encourage me to stay active. Just in moderation.
My husband understands my frustration. He knows me to be the life-time overachiever, and it is something he enjoys teasing me about. But being the ever optimist, he also always encourages me and keeps me from slipping into the ever-possible mental spiral of my inner thoughts. He reminds me that I can spend more time perfecting my homeschooling agenda with my kids, and terrorizing my students at the co-op with my high Korean standards. (And I have had some time to really buckle down on those expectations!) We have already put in fruit trees wherever there was easily accessible water, and we have rudimentary irrigation systems wherever they are needed--so no big emergency digging projects on the horizon. He points out how big our garden was and so the infrastructure is already in place and ready to go this year. We're not acquiring any new animals/animal types so we're not having to scramble to learn about how to take care of anything. We're planning on downsizing a little bit to be able to spend more time on other projects this year, and so we don't always have to be running at breakneck speed to "catch up."
I guess expecting another child has also put me in the position to rethink about expectations for me.
I consider myself to be a homesteader, but first and foremost, I am a mother, to four beautiful girls and another little one on the way. There isn't anything more important that I can do but focus on them. If the garden isn't as prolific as I'd like it to be this year, then the following year will make up for it. If the pasture fence isn't completely set up, there isn't any loss because it hadn't been ready for a year, and our animals are fine. We will do as much as we can do, and that will be enough. It is never a failure to work well and to be careful and to be appreciative of whatever it is that we have. We are blessed with health, home, and happiness. I can't ask for much more than that.
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