In light of our little announcement yesterday, I thought it would be fun to pull this from the archives. 
After a new acquaintance gets over their shock at hearing how many children we have, there seems to be a list of phrases I can pretty much rely on hearing. I could actually make many of the comments for them, in fact, since I’ve heard them so many times. First there’s the “Oh, my goodness; how do you do it?” This is usually followed by some variation of, “I could never do that, I don’t have the patience!” Things get even better when they notice that I’m quite obviously expecting yet again. The open-mouth, wide-eyed look is then followed by a swallow, a search for response you can read on their face, and then a bewildered smile and something to the tune of, “Well, with so many already, what’s one more?“
The amusing thing about this comment is that it most often comes from a parent of one or two children, whom I’m sure picture our days as complete chaos and assume their theory is correct, though they’re not in any hurry to make their own home a case study for it. My fellow in-the-trenches-moms-of-many know, however, that such a statement shows a woeful lack of knowledge of the reality of raising several children. Since I assume many of you hear this refrain yourselves and can’t ever really think of what to say in response, I thought I’d sit down and think through the question . . . what, exactly, is one more?
One more means three months of feeling as if you have the flu every day, from morning ’til night.
One more is $5,000-10,000 in medical bills just to get through pregnancy, labor and delivery–provided everything goes *well.*
One more is looking forward to eighteen more years of homeschooling.
One more is constant amazement that God would trust you with the miraculous privilege of yet another person to raise for His glory.
One more is preparing again for labor, by it’s very name a period of intense hard work which has the potential of being either a very simple though difficult process or going extremely wrong extremely quickly, during which you will use every bit of physical and emotional strength you have, and at the end of which you will (prayerfully) have a healthy baby in your arms, rejoicing in God’s grace in getting you through it.
One more is needing one more bedroom, and being more than overdue for another bathroom.
One more is pulling dusty boxes down from the attic, full of tiny clothes, shoes, blankies and memories, and setting up a nursery one more time.
One more is hours poring over baby name books and the Bible until you find the name that’s just right.
One more means 9 months of measuring everything in terms of grains of rice, olives, limes, grapefruit, and eventually watermelon, and bewilderment that someone the size of a blueberry actually has fingernails.
One more means you won’t be getting away with your girlfriends for your 40th birthday, after all. (And you’ll skip the Europe visit you were planning with your husband for your 20th anniversary, too . . . but you don’t mind. It can wait ’til your 25th.)
One more is 8,760 diapers–about $2,890 worth.
One more means a year of not going too far from home because you can’t miss a feeding.
One more means the number of relationships in your family increases exponentially.
One more is surprising yourself by still tearing up at the sound of a galloping heartbeat over the Doppler.
One more means seven more tops, seven more bottoms, seven more pair of underwear, four more shoes, two more swimsuits, one more toothbrush and fourteen more socks to pack for every family vacation.
One more means eating out costs another $5 if it’s McDonald’s, and $12 if it’s Olive Garden.
One more means 21 more meals, 3 more loads of laundry, and 4 more quizzes to grade every week.
One more means one more first tooth, first step, first word; one more first trip to camp, one more first plane ride, one more baptism. It means one more kindergarten, high school, and college graduation.
One more means once more letting your heart climb out of your body and run around on its own 2 legs.
One more means the cold we’re taking turns with will take 2 more weeks to make it through everyone, and we’ll go through 2 more boxes of tissues and Tylenol before it’s over.
One more means we’ll keep the breakable Christmas ornaments above the 5th row of branches for the next few years, and that one of those rows will sooon be covered in handmade ornaments.
One more is an excuse to keep a bottle of baby powder under my sink “for the baby,” and then use it to keep myself cool in the summer.
One more is another $300 a year in curriculum.
One more is 2 more hands helping decorate Valentines, Easter Eggs and gingerbread men.
One more is another 12th birthday “becoming a teenager” weekend away with mom or dad.
One more means another set of sheets to wash and another bed to make every Saturday morning.
One more is 6,750 more “good mornings,” 1,825 more before-naptime snuggles, and 3,650 more bedtime stories.
One more means another place to set at the table, another pair of shoes at the door, another toothbrush in the holder.
One more means seven more presents under the tree, and another search for the perfect stocking.
One more is another 2 1/2 years of being a full-time mom.
One more is 18 more birthday parties to throw.
One more is another appointment with our pediatrician and 2 more with the dentist every year.
One more means one more voice in the world that makes me jump when it says, “MOM!”
One more is one more set of piano lessons, one more driver’s test, one more SAT, one more round of college applications.
One more is a buddy for my fourth child, so he doesn’t feel left out. (And now there will be one for the fifth!)
One more is an infinite number of moments filled with chances to be sanctified and become more like Jesus as my selfishness, pride, doubt and goodness knows what else are brought to the surface and (hopefully) dealt with as I pray for help and guidance and wisdom.
One more is . . . amazing.
