The Five Little Ducks Blog

When I am out in public with all the children, strangers frequently ask me “are they all yours?” Not wanting to go into specifics, my typical response is: “Yes. This is my family.”

My stomach was full of nerves and my pulse was racing as I watched the two little girls walk hand in hand towards us with the balding, middle aged case worker. My biggest fears were simple; what if they don’t like us? What if we don’t like them? For the next two hours we played with them in the park, shared our food and showed them photographs of themselves as babies with their parents and with us. We introduced ourselves as Aunty H and Uncle M, yet they insisted on calling us Mummy and Daddy. Their faces were anxious but they wanted to cuddle us repeatedly. Over the next week, we spent more time with them. Although we hated the long drives to and from their foster home, we enjoyed this time of getting to know each other. They were happy when we told them they were going to live with us. We were excited to have them joining our family.

The year that followed was the hardest of my life.

Our beautiful nieces brought with them an array of difficult behaviours and tendencies. Hurting others, tantrums, lying, fighting, snatching, destroying things and breaking rules were all part and parcel of our new existence. I now had to deal with four children under the age of five and try to maintain some level of order, all while being utterly exhausted by my pregnancy and struggling to cope with learning to love the newest additions.

Two months after Miss A and Miss L moved in I was due to give birth to my third baby. I sincerely hoped and believed that bringing a baby into the house would be healthy and uniting. We chose a name for our baby meaning “Jehovah heals” as a testament to our faith that God would use this baby to help heal our family. Mostly, I was right. Mr E was thrilled to have a brother join him in the midst of our girly chaos, Miss R was happy but unaffected (a new baby is far less threatening than two similar aged children) and baby-loving Miss A was very content. Miss L’s behaviour however became increasingly difficult, and we still struggle with her aggression and defiance. I think out of all the children, Miss L has been most affected by living here. She went from being “the cute one” and “the baby” between her sister and herself, then was thrust into the middle of five children, one of them very similar aged.

The next part may come as a total shock to you, so brace yourself.

I might have underestimated (just a little bit) how hard it would be to cope with a new baby and four other children.

For the first two weeks of Baby J’s (postpartum) life, he was fairly easy to manage. I was able to feed and settle him without too many dramas, although he was a very sleepy baby. Then the wheels fell off. I now had an extremely unsettled, unhappy, catnapping baby who screamed a lot, jerking around as if he were in pain, and falling asleep every time he was put to the breast so that he never had a decent feed. I frequently had to wear him in the baby-carrier so that I could get housework and cooking done. He became so underweight that at seven weeks old he was referred to a pediatrician who told me to give him top-ups of formula.

I had already been struggling with Depression. Now I felt like an absolute failure for being unable to fully provide for my baby. With the introduction of combined feeds, Baby J thrived. He was more alert during breastfeeds, settled into long, deep sleeps easily, put on weight and he became the cheerful child he is today. Our happiness was short-lived however; in mid-February the Chicken-Pox entered our home. The four oldest children were all struck one by one and needed to be kept in quarantine for a minimum of two weeks. Miss R took the longest to obtain a doctor’s clearance. By the time each child had recovered, another virus had taken its place with another child. We had eleven consecutive weeks of sickness in our home (and we have had many illnesses since).

The following months were a constant emotional roller-coaster. Despite having successfully overcome my sugar addiction and lost thirteen kilograms, I turned to sugar for comfort and put back on some of the weight. While I had good days and good weeks where it seemed like I was keeping it together and our family was going well, my mental health continuously plunged into murky pits of depression, anger, resentment and guilt. I am not proud of how I handled myself during that time and there are words I have spoken over the children of which I have needed to repent. I have a memory of one particular day when the depression was so bad that I cried for about 90 minutes, shuffling around, feeling hopeless. At times I was grateful for Baby J; holding him had a soothing effect and caring for him often forced me to do something when I lacked motivation.  My family was worried about me. I had heard a few times from people that I didn’t have the same spark or glow anymore. My husband became so concerned about me that he took a whole week off work so that I could leave Sydney for a few days. Sadly it didn’t help; soon after I commenced antidepressant medication. Thankfully, medication was effective and I have found a small dose each day extremely stabilising for my moods and helpful to my mental health.

 Last year I wrote about my vision of a puzzle; how each member of our family might be different but somehow we would all have a place and fit in together, like the pieces of a puzzle. There were times over the last year when I felt disappointed, wondering why that still hadn’t come true. About three months ago, Miss A and Miss L went into respite care for one week. When they came home, it felt like the missing pieces of our puzzle had returned. Not only had I had time to miss them, but I was relieved to see that Mr E had missed them. The children were all so excited to be reunited after a week apart. Relations between them, especially between Mr E and Miss A, have been significantly better ever since.

Upon reflection, Miss A and Miss L have come so far. Their ability to communicate has improved, many of their anxious and hyperactive behaviours have reduced. They seem to have accepted their place in our family and have settled down in many ways. They feel less like intruders now and more like my own children. While they frustrate me terribly at times I love and care about them deeply. They belong. Miss A is flourishing and has revealed a very kind and thoughtful nature. Her attention span has increased considerably, allowing her to watch TV, sit calmly in a restaurant or patiently do a craft. While the girls struggled to entertain themselves in the beginning, they now have a great deal of fun playing and seem to see the world in a sparkly, fantastical light. They see the opportunity for fun and delight wherever they go, from making up games and songs, to picking flowers and dawdling along, I am trying to learn to appreciate their “childlike” zest for life. I will admit that as crazy as our family can be, this is a fun house to live in. It is full of joy and chaos, laughter, dancing and singing. As much I have struggled emotionally, it has often struck me that that I have a “good life”. My life is filled to the brim with purpose, we have good family and friends, our home is comfortable; we want for nothing, and I am happily married to my best friend. What is my complaint at the end of the day? That I have too many small children who love me!

A few days ago I found last year’s diary and discovered that Miss A and Miss L had officially moved in with our family on September 29^th. Curious, I checked this year’s diary to find out what we had been doing on the date of our “famiversary”. We had been down the south coast and it was the final day of our holiday. It was raining, and we were keen to make the most of our final day. We went for a drive and the rain had stopped, so we had fish and chips for lunch near the water, then went for a walk and ended up at a playground. Daddy Duck and I were both in a good mood; we played happily with the children. It started sprinkling, so we hid under the play equipment, but we were still getting wet. We all ran back to the car, laughing, as the rain became heavier and then went for a mystery drive, Daddy Duck telling me to pick a direction at random. We stumbled upon a 4,200 hectare military weapons testing base, where access was granted to the public so that they could visit a lighthouse on the site. The weather had cleared so we decided to venture out along the bumpy track, not encountering any other cars along the way. The old lighthouse was situated on top of a cliff surrounded by natural rock pools. Unable to resist, the children and I took off our shoes and splashed through all the puddles. Standing with my feet in a rock pool on top of a cliff, my baby in my arms and a view of the majestic Pacific Ocean, and surrounded by my family enjoying the same experience, I was joyful. How wonderful that this precious memory, the highlight of our holiday, had occurred on our famiversary.

The last year has been so difficult, not only in adjusting to having five children, but due to other events that have occurred also. My elderly paternal grandmother passed away. Miss A and Miss L’s birth father repeatedly trying to have them removed from our care was a very painful process for us and caused us to cease contact with Daddy Duck’s family, with the exception of his sister. Less than two months ago his beloved sister took her own life, which was heartbreaking for us, and has affected Daddy Duck and Miss A deeply. We had hoped to be able to unite with Daddy Duck’s family in order to plan his sister’s funeral, but things got so bad that we have completely cut off communication with them and we planned a separate memorial.

I have been challenged in my faith many times over the last year. Just before the girls moved in, I read the following verse in the Bible, and it has often been my comfort. “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” (Isaiah 43:2). There is a song by Phil Pringle based on this verse. Singing these words has repeatedly helped me combat feelings of depression and hopelessness:

“I have redeemed you

I have called you by name:

Child, you are mine;

When you walk through the waters

I will be there,

And through the flames.

You’ll not (No way!) be drowned!

You’ll not (No way!) be burned!

For I am with you.”

What stands out to me from the words of this verse and song is that God never promises us an easy ride. He said “when”. “When you pass through the waters… when you pass through the flames…” In this life we will have difficult seasons, but God is by our side and we will pass through them. Our most difficult experiences may try us, change us, shape us; but they won’t necessarily “kill” us. At times this year I felt so miserable, thinking I had lost my old family and everything I liked about myself. I had become so grumpy and despondent that I no longer liked who I was anymore. But clinging to the above words gave me hope that my family and I would not be lost to our trials. How glad I am that I did not give up. How glad I am that I dared to hope and to dream.

Thank you God for this silly, naive, noble, ambitious heart of mine! Thank you for all the amazing people who have surrounded us with prayers and practical support. Thank you that you are pulling us out from the flames and the floodwaters; that we are moving in the right direction. Help me to stay patient, to be wise, and to love well. Thank you God that you forgive us when we fail, and then you present us with a new day, fresh, crisp and clean, in which we can strive to do better and try again. Thank you God for my family. Thank you God for choosing me.