Coffee and Grace

It’s amazing to me the love that I had for my kids from the first second I knew I was pregnant. I don’t mean when I tinkled on the stick and saw the two pink lines, or the plus sign, or whatever hieroglyphic showed up letting me know I had that good ole pregnancy hormone. I mean from that moment I KNEW I was pregnant. I knew in my mind, in my heart, in my soul, (in my stomach that just made me nauseous as soon as that sperm and that egg met). That love just blew me away and I didn’t even have a baby with legs, arms, or eyes formed. But I had a baby with a part of me and a part of Collin that was going to be one of the biggest, okay one of the three biggest adventures of my life.

The immediate love didn’t come with all of the feel goods. It came with a whole lot more of the, “Can I do this? Is this really a good idea, God? I’m scared to death!” It came with doubt, fear, anxiety, and a complete loss of all sane thinking. And looking back on all three pregnancies, and the differences that each one held, I realize if I wasn’t thinking those things, I wouldn’t be the mom I am today. Those thoughts, fears, and questions are what formed me, formed my relationship with my growing babies, and the parenthood relationship Collin and I would mold ( and are still molding to this day). I think the most precious thing to come from those thoughts, fears, and questions, would be the growth in my relationship with the Lord. * I just made a note in my notebook that I will write a post about that relationship growth and skip all the details for now.*

When I was pregnant for the first time (it took a little bit of time for me to KNOW I was pregnant like I mentioned above. I was pretty sure I had the flu and just couldn’t get over it) I was mostly in shock. It was one of those times in reality that takes a little extra time to really sink in. Looking back on it, I think I was one of the last people the “sinking in” feeling happened to. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be pregnant, or that I though Collin and I weren’t old enough to be parents, or that Collin and I wouldn’t be good parents. It was the actual idea of BEING pregnant that I was in a fog about. I mean in my body there was this little thing, a “parasite” as my nurse practitioner called it, that was already relying on me. It was counting on me to keep it safe, to get it nutrients, to give it energy to grow. I had this living, growing baby inside of me counting on me. That’s a feeling I don’t think can be duplicated, a feeling only an actual pregnant women can understand, a feeling so many women in the world crave to feel and some, for whatever reason don’t get to.

The second pregnancy didn’t hit me as much or as hard until it got closer to brining that baby into the world. It wasn’t the birthing part that had me worried about bringing it into the world. It was “How do I take care of a two year old and an infant?” There just wasn’t enough of Mom me to go around. A few weeks before I was due I started the panic feeling. How will my two year old baby girl feel all of the love I have for her when I’m needing to take care of this new baby? How do I not hurt Codi’s feelings when I’m going to have to tell her, “No, I can’t read to you because I have to feed the new baby”. How do I make room in my lap for Codi to curl up and rock with me in, when I’m going to have this new baby to feed and rock? Wow, there’s that anxiety feeling. I need to be able to do it all and I’m expecting nothing less of myself. That’s not setting a new mother of two up for failure.

Then that third pregnancy came. I was feeling like pro at it by this time. When I saw a shirt that said “Crazy Heifer” on it and really wanted it, Collin informed me I was no longer a heifer but a cow. That was such a sweet way of him telling me I really was an old pro at it. I was great having Codi and Kylee with me and not worrying about how I was going to love them all. When we loaded up to head to the hospital I was super confident in my mothering skills. I wasn’t nearly as anxious about having two baby girls and an infant all at the same time. I had it all figured out. Codi couldn’t wait to be helpful, Kylee was just good with anything (stereotypical middle child there), and I was ready to love them all the best that my momma ability would allow. And then Collin I got home from the hospital and I lost it. By it, I mean all of my ability to think rationally, the confidence I had in myself that I could do this. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t understand why anyone thought I was capable of being left alone with THREE children 4 and under. I was sure I couldn’t do it. It took a while to pull out of that mindset. But I was able to. I was able to with the love and support of my family and friends. I was able to because those girls needed me to. I was able to because God had a different plan for my parenting style. I was able to realize I could be left alone with three children, and I realized I actually liked those days where it was just me and the girls.

Fifteen years and two months ago I was preparing to become a first time mother of a newborn. When I think back to that now it almost gives me anxiety. That poor momma was in for a ride. A ride of really high highs, and some REALLY low lows. The majority of those spots on the roller coaster of my life would not have come if I hadn’t been chosen by the big guy upstairs to be the mother for these three beautiful girls. My roller coaster would have been pretty lame I think. No one would be screaming, no one would be crying, no looks of complete fear, no one throwing up. There also wouldn’t be giggles, happy screams of joy, no hand holding on the scary parts, or big huge smiles when the ride was over. I think I’ll keep my roller coaster. I’ll stay on the ride until the operator pushes the button. The button that starts slowing the ride down. The button that will eventually bring the ride the to a stop. Until then, I’m gonna soak in the highs and the lows, the screams and the giggles, the tears of pain and the tears of joy that the ride is gonna bring. I mean with these three cuties, how could I ever ask to get off?

My family of 5 occupies two houses. Now many people would say, “When you have four females in a family, it would take two houses to hold all of their stuff!”. My response to that would be something along the lines of, “You give any girls two houses, she will fill it up!”. Living this life for the past 4ish years, I would say both of those statements are true. I would also add it’s not just because we have four girls in this family…

So why DO we have two places we call home? In the first post, “Introducing Me” (catchy title huh?) I make the comment of being a ranch wife. So, stating the obvious, my husband is a rancher. While we do have handful of our very own cattle, that’s not really where we do most of our “ranching”. While I would love to share with you about our very own cows, that will have to wait for a different time.

My husband, Collin (Pronounced Call in. His name, in no way, represents or sounds like any organ of the human body. The word you would be looking for there is colon, and who in their right mind would name their beautiful baby boy that?!), grew up in the world of ranching and farming. All of our married lives, and a bit before that, he has worked for a ranch that is here locally. Now, I when I use “locally” her, is a relative term. For the sake of this informational story, I won’t get too crazy on the details of the ranch and what “locally” means and could mean.

Anyway-part of the deal with working for this ranch is having the option to live in ranch housing. We were blessed to be able to move into a ranch house just shortly after we were married and then had our first baby girl. This house is set in one of the main hubs of the ranch. It’s at the end of about 7 miles of a gravel/dirt road around 50 miles from the closest town and the girls’ school. It is the house we refer to as “home”. That’s such a great word isn’t it? Whenever I think about it I get all the feel goods. Over the years new flooring has been put in. The orange rust counter tops were replaced with a laminate that looks like black marble. The exterior color has gone from a tan peach (gag) with a dusty rose trim (double gag!) to a beautiful barn red with gray trim. We’ve gotten new windows, new toilets, a new back deck, a new front deck, new kitchen sink, and of course different layers of paint on the inside depending on what my mood is in! So, yes, this is home. The place we have spent so much of our time in. Have had so many late night arrivals at while each packing a girl in to put in their bed then playing rock, paper, scissors to decide who had to go back to get the third on the real cold snowy nights. The place where all of the birthdays have happened. The place the girls were potty trained. The place we just can’t wait to get to after a vacation to see family in the city. It’s just….home.

A handful of years ago we were offered the option to be able to stay in an “in town” house for part of the year. Again, “in town” is a relative term. Like I said, our other house is about miles from groceries, from a gas station, from the school, from the sports practices, from church, from a quick take out dinner. So this other house we were being offered was only about 20 miles from those said things. So yah, in town sounded like a great option for part of the year. Ya know, change it up! This house is also set at one of the main hubs for the ranch. It too has a good amount of gravel/dirt road to drive. In all honestly this road to get to this town house, is so much worse than the road that takes us home. This place was quickly called “Cow Camp” as a pretty good joke amongst our friends. (That’s for another post). This place has a covered riding arena, horse stalls, a garage (no one has a garage out by our other house!), and get this…no chance or rattlesnakes! This is the place we started spending our Christmas’, the place the baby calves are born and we play with, the place the said baby calves come to get warm when they are born on a nasty windy wet night. The place my husband can come into right after he’s pulled a calf and is covered in…well all the gunk that comes with that job. The place the girls all start their fair animals out at. This is the place I feel like we just sleep at most often because of all the things we are running around doing the time of the year we are at this place. So this place is yes, our home. But it’s just not the same home as our other place.

Both of our places have fantastic views. Home has a view of this from our back deck

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This on a wonderful summer evening

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This on an early June run down the road.

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And this on a late winter walk back to the house

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Cow Camp has this on a branding day

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This on a summer day

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This on a spring day feeding the 4-H steers

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And this during a spring storm

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So, yah, two house can be a lot of work, a lot of cleaning (which is another one of those relative terms!), a lot of tracking down the matching shoe that is apparently at the other house, a lot of animal moving, and a lot of list writing to remember what Dad needs to get from the other house when he is out there for the day. But man…it’s been a lot of great memories and a lot of great views…

I was a baby of the 80s, a child of the 90s, and teen in Y2K. Now I’m married, a mother, a ranch wife, and a school secretary. It’s amazing how time can fly and turn you into something you never saw coming.

I hope to show you how I was shaped and formed through those decades into the person I am today. I could just sit here and type out this long, word filled, page of my history. Ya know…”My name is Jessie Cunningham and I was born in the year blah blah blah”. But I don’t think that’s what a blog is about. I think to learn these things about me it will be much more fun for me…well and you…to tune in and see what pictures or stories I have to tell.

I do ask for some grace through this. I’ve never done the blogging scene before and my writing is pretty rusty. It’s been a year or two…okay how about more than a decade…since my college WR121 class at OSU (Oregon State University for any confusion on any of those other “O” states), and I don’t plan on writing in a professional manner or in a way that I would expect my high school English teacher (Hey Mrs. G!!!) to ever give me an “A” on.

I’m sure my main audience will be my family. The kind by blood and the kind by me calling them family. Facebook use to be my platform to keep them all up to date with my comings and goings, pictures of my growing girls, and anything other things I deemed necessary to put out there in the world of social media. But then Facebook was just too much for me. I don’t mean it was too much for me to get on and post…but man it is just TOO MUCH in many other aspects. So I found myself not posting often and getting gruff from family about not seeing pictures of the girls. I don’t think I can recall a comment about how they missed seeing me, however. Or any of that family that wasn’t on Facebook and wasn’t ever going to be. So…here I am. If you aren’t someone I know or aren’t sure that you are my family…make sure to reach out and say, “Hey!” I mean this is just a journey I have no road map or itinerary for. I’m along for the adventure and I hope you are too!