The past few days, I’ve found myself reading old blog posts from past pregnancies.  I think my hope was to find that I was just as disorganized and exhausted and unmotivated then as I am now.  I didn’t find that, though.  I was able to keep some sort of routine.  I did keep household chores done, and managed to accomplish extra projects, too.  I’m sure it wasn’t every day, but it was certainly more often than, well, never.

And so I am now discouraged and confused and wondering what happened to me.  The reality is that having four kids instead of 2 or 3 isn’t more work.  My kids are self-sufficient enough, and contribute enough to the accomplishment of daily chores that my work-load is less this pregnancy than it has been in the past.  Homeschooling isn’t an excuse at the moment, since I haven’t been any more productive these past several weeks of summer break.  My pregnancy isn’t any worse.  I have been more nauseous recently, but in past pregnancies, it was even more of a constant companion.

What I do know is that productivity seems all but impossible for me when my kids are around.  I can’t focus when there is noise, and a question every 2 minutes, and a soliloquy about something every five minutes…it practically paralyzes me.

What I also know is that this house discourages me.  I can remember, in past pregnancies, a sense of peace when the house was clean.  Not so here.  Even when everything is clean and clutter is cleared, there are still holes in the walls, peeling wallpaper, leaking pipes, slanted floors, stained kitchen tile, and more that make the effort of cleaning seem to have very little point.  I can’t really describe how much those things make me want to not even try.

And I’m left wondering why…why God would be giving me another baby to take care of when I do such a terrible job with the responsibilities that I have now, why we are here in this house that I often hate, why I can’t seem to get organized, why I can’t make myself do better.  I wish I knew the answers.  I wish I knew how to change.