I was 21 when I had my first child. Ty and I were in college, and I went back to school a week after my c-section.
I was 23 when I had my second child. During her pregnancy, I was a mess. I had hyperemesis gravidarum. I am thankful my son survived on the cheese and crackers I threw on the table and the few minutes of parenting I could manage every day.
When my older two children were 3 and 1, their Daddy deployed for 2 years. We rarely saw him, and I learned the art of single-parenting (with the help of grandparents).
I was 27 when I had my third child. My older children didn’t need as much care since they were 6 and almost 4, so I could focus a lot of attention on the baby.
And then the “crazy years” began…