I lie in bed, at some point between midnight and 2am, surrounded by little toddlers sleeping peacefully, a cat curled up at my youngest’s feet, other half dreaming about something nice, and I close my eyes and wonder when I will allow myself that deep, uninterrupted sleep again. If I place my hands on my belly, I can feel tiny little baby moving around little kicks and punches here and there, finding a comfortable spot to sleep in. There is ample room in this womb, used to growing little babies now, my belly appearing so much bigger than the baby it is holding.

I’m so hyper aware of cherishing every moment, the last first kick, the last time I will meet the halfway mark, but my days are full of toddlers and words and important moments that I rarely have the time to sit down and remember that I am actually pregnant again. Even during those moments when I am standing under the shower I am usually singing children’s songs or talking to the girls through the shower door, hoping that I won’t walk out of the bathroom into a mayhem that even Winnie the Pooh cannot curtail for 5 minutes. Sometimes I just stand there under the hot water and talk to tiny little baby in my head, telling him or her little stories, just like I did with Luna and Aurora.

In the morning I wake up before everyone else, cuddling those little beings, one on each side of me, knowing that it won’t be long before they wake up demanding to nurse, to play, to eat, and that it won’t be too much longer after that that they will prefer their own company to mine. Little radiators, hopefully dreaming of the park, the ocean, the tallest skyscrapers and the widest forests, flying over earth on their broomsticks with their beloved pets in tow. Sometimes I feel so helpless about this world and where we are heading, but they are only thoughts I let myself have when everyone else is asleep. Morningtime is for smiles and stories and cuddles. I will keep the silence of the dark to curtail my own anxious thoughts, and devise plans to continue to create a better world, one step at a time.

Nursing two toddlers while pregnant isn’t easy, there are moments when I just want them to stop, to push them away and cry “enough!”, but I know deep down that it will all work itself out in the end, that once they are ready they will wean. I don’t have the strength to work on that right now, Luna is so anxious and needs her comfort, if that is how she finds it for now, so be it. I’m as healthy as can be, so the tandem nursing isn’t affecting the baby or me, but the discomfort can sometimes be too much. And I’m certainly not a martyr, I shout as much as the next person, and feel as much guilt as any mother. In the end all that matters is that we provide health, comfort and love, as well as the right tools to deal with what is ahead. No one is perfect, no matter how hard we try.

I’ve been inspired by several people and happenings and instances recently, leading to me writing some things that I have never been able to write before. They may or may not appear online at some point, and will be published anonymously because I don’t have the courage to see my name next to them, not because I fear people knowing certain things about me, but because I just don’t want anyone to feel pain or sadness for me, or even anger. Life is what it is, we learn and we grow and we aim not to perpetuate what we may have been subjected to as children. My objective in life since having children has been to grow and evolve and become a better me, for myself, my partner and my children. And writing about certain things is very cathartic and may even help others.

Spring comes earlier on this side of the country, but all we have had since Christmas is rain, rain and more rain. California needed it, but there is moss growing on the wooden roof tiles and nothing is drying properly, and I miss days and days of sunshine. But tiny little baby will be born during the year that the drought broke in California, and I will tell him or her stories of endless rain and green, green grass that hadn’t been seen in years, not naturally in any case. And yes, tiny little baby has a name, actually two names, because we still won’t know whether we are having a boy or a girl until next week, and are going to keep that quiet until he or she arrives in early July. I’m excited to finally see him or her move around inside me, to make sure that everything is growing well and that we have nothing to worry about. These next 19 weeks are going to go by quickly, and while I am collecting thoughts and words and pictures in a written journal, I worry that it is not enough. Because there will not be another time like this. As Cesar and I mused yesterday, once tiny little baby arrives it will be time to focus properly on all of our futures, together.

With the world declining again into dark, dark times, we must continue to stand up and bring light to those who cannot reach it, or are being denied it. We must continue to write, to draw, to create, to dream, and to inspire others to do the same. I have to tell myself every single day that there are more of us who want love, rather than those who refuse to believe we can all coexist, through fear, or hatred or ignorance. I have to move past all of those comments that I take too personally, people insulting everything I believe in, the existence of my family, my life, and have to remember that the answer lies in the fight and the way that we continue to resist against the dark. The future IS ours, and it will be a better place, and I must continue to smile in the face of adversity. Spring is nearly here and with spring comes a lot of hope.