Gabie is here! Today marks two months since her birth.

Gabie entered the world quickly – the doctor didn’t even have time to make it to the hospital and my lovely doula caught baby girl with only Michael in the room. Of course I begged for an epidural at one point, but labor was too fast to allow for that. Ironically, I prayed for a natural delivery without pain killers, and God sure answered that one.

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The baby’s due date is three short days away. My parents arrive today to spend two weeks with us, and we are in this weird place of waiting. And in the waiting, we’ve entered a new year, which often involves a lot of pondering.

The big questions and little resolves. What do we want 2024 to look like?

As toddler parents, our new years eve celebration looked much different. We put the girls down early and enjoyed a night in with popcorn and hot chocolate. We tried to chat about the year ahead, but frankly were very tired and instead made a few observations, ultimately concluding that every year since our wedding has been unpredictable. Sure, there were some certainties we could hold onto, but most of the big life plans, travels, and changes caught us by surprise.

Since moving into our new home three months ago, our family has not stopped moving.

*exhale* It’s been quite a ride.

What caused a lot of this momentum was the news that appeared on a tiny plastic wand nearly eight months ago. A baby! We are having a baby girl! What?! Oh dear, that will change things. Overjoyed. Thrilled.

How are we here so quickly? I am now one month away from the due date and this is our final time of “rest” before we begin yet another phase of life as a family of five.

There is much that I could share about the journey thus far. For starters, I could write about the fun of discreetly vomiting at my in laws house at five weeks pregnant while trying to pack up our family for a trip back home – or the many trips to the doctors, with the toddlers in tow, and Phoebe’s cute little excuses that she can’t do anything because she is also pregnant. (What does that say about me and my excuses lately?)

We moved. New city, micro-climate, home. And new ants.

It is harder to unpack than pack, that is my conclusion after this move. Unpacking requires more deep thinking on the placement of things, and chaos of random junk that I should have tossed a while ago. Unpacking creates a running list of things that to purchase for the space to feel more comfy, practical, and livable. There is always something. Some hooks, a rug, a lamp, a shoe rack and I should probably replace the ugly placemat we brought with. Unpacking takes heart, packing just takes energy.

Shifting from the humanitarian world to full-time motherhood has its fill of challenges. Costa Rica has been a recharge destination. One so full of life and beauty that it demands our hearts to slow down and pay attention. Perhaps, with time, it will wear off. For now I greatly enjoy the mix of rain and shine and rhythms of life that this season of motherhood brings.

These days my mind wanders in what feels like a major reset. A perspective shift from constantly trying to figure it all out: Where will we live? What will we do? What is our five-year dream? To one of letting go and holding on. Letting go of what I thought I wanted to build or where we should be and holding on to the good gifts of this season. If I look back at all the major shifts in life, God always provides the next steps at just the right time. At a moment’s notice, God can move and reveal something we had never considered before. No amount of pondering or worrying add or detract from whatever lay ahead.

Emma, now nine months old, had colic as a newborn and the only way we could get her to calm down during the late-night screams was to walk outside. With Emma, the outdoors is our saving grace. Lately I’ve been pondering the significance behind a move from the desert to rainforest. The stark contrast demands contemplation. And any time I find myself with time to talk with the God of our universe about this season, all I can sense is a profound invitation to rest. To enjoy. To accept the season as it is.

I recently had a fellow writer critique a draft chapter for a book proposal. Her feedback was to include more sensory details. “Show don’t tell.” And she is right. As a realist, I tend to jump to the facts of the matter, how did it happen, what was I thinking, or what is the deeper bits beneath it all anyway? Yet – there is so much beauty in the details. What color was the room where that decision was made, how did your body feel? What did the wind feel like on your skin?

In Costa Rica people often say – “Pura Vida!” to say hello, goodbye, or just in response to difficult situation or to answer the question How are you?

Pura Vida means “pure life,” and expresses a way of life that is simple, happy, and content. A phrase that is, by all means, cultural, and reflects the optimistic nature that we encounter again and again while living here.

New Year’s Day we were invited to a waterfall hike with a dear friend and her family. We drove 45 minutes away, towards Volcano Poas, through windy roads and ended up at a private cow farm.

In this moment, when my fingertips finally get to let loose at the keyboard, I am slightly annoyed.

My hope was to have more time for this. I imagined these blissful moments, when I am free to take a breath, breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth - slowly, effortlessly, peacefully – all the while tapping away with something fierce and beautiful to write about.

Then the hour arrives. The kids are down, my tea is halfway finished, already chilled. Goodness, I even shut off the lights and lit a candle to try to set the mood. Nothing. Instead, I feel suffocated. Like something within me can’t breathe. My thoughts, they are squelched tonight. Why?