Recently some mom friends had a discussion going over an article which stated that statistically, moms of three kids are more stressed than moms of four. And I remembered how many times I had heard that “after three, it never gets any crazier!”

But when Ethan arrived, much anticipated baby four, he threw me into a period of family life which felt so much like a car without brakes barreling down a hill. I just hoped no sharp curves were on the road ahead!  It was the kind of crazy that had me on the verge of tears and laughter all at once! I remember sobbing when Ethan had his first big blowout and it poured down his leg and into my lap when we were both all freshly dressed and ready to leave for church. Actually, I outright wailed. And then laughed so hard at myself right afterwards for taking a simple mess so hard. I remember asking mom friends with more kids than I if this was “normal” to feel so wildly behind and grinning with teary eyes when they said “Yes!” I cried when I forgot my stroller at the park, and when I couldn’t remember carrying the baby in his seat to the front step to be loaded into the car. And later laughed at how silly it all was. Having three children was a breeze in comparison.

This has brought me to conclude that in comparing how various numbers of children affect the life of a mom, variables like how close together the children are, and the personalities of those children, and for that matter the personality of the mom all play into the experience. But with that said, I’m also grateful that I didn’t go straight from a relatively easy three-kids-experience to an even less stressful four. I’m grateful, somehow, (though I was hard-pressed to be grateful at the time), for what that careening feeling (as if I were digging my fingers into the dashboard of that brakeless car and holding on for dear life) teaches me about trust in God. Precisely when I knew I really truly could not hold anything together, not even one little bit, then I really knew without doubt that I HAD to rely on God to be the One in control. It was sheer incapacitated dependence.

I suppose much like my sweet fourth baby depends on us, his parents, for everything. He can’t control the position of his body or whether his tummy will get filled or when his clothes get changed or if he gets covered or uncovered. And arguably this is precisely the state where our little baby sees most constantly our care and provision for him. I want to remember that picture of dependence and provision for those times when I feel the most like I’m in the careening car. Those moments serve as the best opportunities to see God’s moment-by-moment love and provision for me and for my family. I want to be watching during those times with eyes of faith, to see what God will do.