Five Is Enough...Or So I Thought

By Beth Vogt

ATTENTION: We interrupt your regularly scheduled life for—a baby?!

How do you feel when the State of the Union address pre-empts your favorite sitcom? Slightly disrupted?

Finding out I was pregnant at 41 made me feel like I was frantically surfing television channels trying to get back to normal. My life wasn’t going according to schedule—and the interruption would last a whole lot longer than 60 minutes.

My first response wasn’t “It’s a wonderful life!” It was more like, “Where’s the hidden camera?”

I was a 41-year-old mother of three teenagers. My daughters and I liked shopping in Old Navy, not browsing through racks of maternity clothes.  My son was applying for college scholarships and daydreaming about living in a dorm. My husband, Rob, and I were in the early stage of emptying our nest.

I decided to approach my 40s—and my children’s increasing independence—with a positive outlook. I anticipated a new era of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as my children went off to college. Why waste time obsessing about grey hair and crow’s feet?

Then—four and a half months of morning sickness took me down.

Most of my friends laughed when I told them I was pregnant. “Don’t you know what causes that?” was a common response. My dad jokingly blamed Rob for my surprise pregnancy. It would have been convenient to lay the entire fault at Rob’s door, but the old saying, “It takes two to tango,” was oh-too-true. Besides, did I really want to blame someone for my pregnancy?

One person—and only one—called my pregnancy a mistake. And I was quick to correct her. “This pregnancy is not a mistake,” I said. “It wasn’t on my radar screen, but I believe God knew about it all along.”

My late-in-life pregnancy re-defined and disrupted my life. The orderly and expected plan of raising three children and then stepping back as they left the nest was upended by reality: My life would be ruled—once again—by the whims of a newborn. This would not be a short hiatus; my life was entering end-of-season re-runs.

And, four and a half years later, I discovered that re-runs are worth taking time for.

Rob and I are more relaxed with Christa than we were with our first three children. In some ways, having a toddler in the house is like watching a favorite movie again. With Christa, we get to revisit the memories we made with our older kids. We dusted off some of their favorite books of childhood like Blueberries for Sal and Hop on Pop and Curious George goes to the Airport.  I dug through the boxes in my basement and found the well-used cassette tape of silly songs we listened to whenever we took a road trip and relearned all the words. We renewed our zoo membership and took turns making silly faces at the gorillas and feeding the giraffes—laughing at their ridiculously long, purple tongues.

Christa gives us a reason to go sledding when it snows or to watch a kids’ movie like Finding Nemo or Frosty the Snowman—another favorite from her siblings’ childhoods.  Listening to Christa’s laugh multiplies our enjoyment. And we once again have a child who is young enough to take advantage of the kid’s menus at our favorite restaurants.

Christa’s childlike faith strengthens ours. My husband and I told our older children that they would influence Christa’s understanding of God by how they lived out their convictions.

When Christa was four-years-old, she prayed with her daddy about loving Jesus and being sorry when she disobeyed. The girls and I surrounded Christa on her bed and cheered. Then we talked about what they believed. After we all prayed with her, we called big brother Josh so she could tell him what happened.

         People like to encourage Rob and me by saying that Christa will keep us young. Rob and I know that Christa keeps us tired. But thanks to her three older siblings, we have lots of help. They are the supporting cast in this season of parenting.  If I’m too worn out to take Christa to the park or give her a bath or make her a snack, usually one of her sisters will do it. Amy might take Christa to McDonald’s for an ice cream cone or Katie Beth might take her to the children’s play area in the mall. And when Josh comes home for a visit, he willingly accepts her unending clamoring for his attention.

        One day Christa will realize the downside of being the much-younger fourth child: She is outnumbered. If she refuses to eat lunch, several voices warn, “No dessert.” If she gets out of line, at least two people instruct, “Don’t do that.” Right now “echo discipline” doesn’t bother her. But, one day she will get tired of being surrounded by people who all know what’s best for her.

        Even when it comes to a favorite old movie or television show, there are always parts you that skip, thinking, “I’ve seen this already.” This is also true with my late-in-life child. I can’t say I was thrilled with morning sickness or an infant who didn’t understand the concept of napping or childhood immunizations—I told Rob it was his turn to stand by during the shots—or the power struggles that go along with toddlers. But I do know how fast Christa will grow up because I’ve seen it happen with Josh, Katie Beth, and Amy.

        And, while this feels like repeat episodes for Rob and me, Christa is only into her fourth season in the Vogt Family. Her life is chock full of firsts: first snowfall, first pet kitten, first dance class, first day of pre-kindergarten.

        One of our greatest delights with Christa’s arrival is how childhood returned to our family. It is a joy to experience life through her young eyes. Christa helps me to remember that childhood is a once-in-her-lifetime event—for her and for us. Evelyn Nown’s words beautifully summarize this lesson: “Perhaps parents would enjoy their children more if they stopped to realize that the film of childhood can never be run through for a second showing.”