It was two and a half years ago, and my littlest littles were 5.5, 4, and 2x 1.5 years old (twin Mom over here)… I was knee deep in kids. You could say, I was swimming in them. It wasn’t always that way…
My husband and I always knew we wanted kids in our future, just never was set on a “plan” or the “when.” We traveled all over the place with the military… and it was while living overseas in Germany (at that time we were married for 4 years) that I had experienced my first miscarriage. Heartbroken. Devastated. Hungry for motherhood. Just a few months after that, I experienced another miscarriage. Hopeless, and tired of the dream, but yet still, hungry for motherhood. They say, you don’t really know what you want, until it’s gone. I especially felt that way, after those two losses. After 3 years of living in Germany, we moved along to South Korea. It was there that we learned of the ways to adopt a young one internationally, and so we proceeded to do just that. Our oldest daughter came to be in our lives (the cutest 3.5 year old Ukrainian we ever laid eyes on)… she became our life. We didn’t know what we were missing, until she made us “parents”… she made me Mom. Full heart.
Just a few months after adopting, I was so surprised to find out we were expecting. I was skeptical, hesitant, and definitely distanced at the thought that my body could carry a child. But it did. My sweet baby girl came to be… joined our family, as we just settle into a new location, in Oklahoma. When she was born, my midwife announced, “Now that the well has been tapped… the water will flow.” I definitely smiled and giggled over that thought, at the same time rolling my eyes, knowing how difficult it was to get to where we were. Just 2 months after she was born, I was pregnant with another. The well was flowing. My little boy joined our family just 9 months later… two babies, 11 months age difference. Life with 3 littles was something. We quickly went from having it “together” to being outnumbered. Sleepless nights felt never ending and all the days just began to blur. Our time in Oklahoma flew by. We were seated in our favorite little bagel sandwich shop one afternoon after church. Our oldest was 9 years old, middle was 3 years old, and our little boy was 2 years old. I remember looking over at my hubby, and saying, “Wow, we have this… this is great. Dare I say, that life feels sweet and good in this moment? It almost feels easy. Almost.” At the very moment, I didn’t know it, but I was pregnant… I returned to my sweet midwife yet again, for my first well check and confirmation of pregnancy. “Karen, I’m sorry… I won’t be able to be your midwife for this pregnancy.” Those words, pierced more than anything. I knew we would be moving midway through this pregnancy, but I didn’t think she would decline seeing me for that short bit. “I can’t see you, because I have to send you to an OBGYN. There are two heartbeats. Two strong, beautiful heartbeats.” Heart sank. Tears flowed. To this day, I’m not really sure if they were happy tears or terrified tears… This was whole new territory for us… twins. They don’t run in the family… I was a young age… I wasn’t on fertility medicine… Truly just a miracle that I would be carrying two. At 28 weeks pregnant (Measuring nearly full term) we made our way to Washington, which would be our “forever home.” At 37 weeks pregnant, we welcomed home two more little girls. Complete. That would be the feeling that we felt. Whole and ready to start letting our roots dig deep in one place. We’ve never lived in a place for longer than 3 years… now was the time.
So back to the beginning of this blog post… back to swimming in kids. You can only imagine the looks I received when I left the house with all kids in tow. Oh the comments that would come my way, “You sure have your hands full!” Grocery shopping was challenging (why oh why did we not have pick up orders back then?), everyone would just look at me with wide eyes… my cart was filled with more kids than food. My five, have been the center of my world all of these years. It was just a year ago, that I finally felt like I was coming up for air, instead of drowning. Life felt sweet and a little more settled… It was time to fill my bucket.
Growing up, being outside and in the dirt, was my world. My grandparents moved to Canada after the war (WW11) and built an amazing homestead on their land. I spent my summers visiting them, in awe of all they did, and created over the years. I was always in awe of the blooms my Oma grew, and would sneak some daisies to build some crowns for myself. It was so simple and yet completely brought me joy.
A year ago, I declared that I was starting my flower farming adventure… I had no clue what the year was going to hold, but I did know that I was going to give it my all. My 5, my handful, are a huge part of my why… I want them to know how beautiful this Earth is, and to find joy in the little things. To live “wild and free” is how my husband and I raise our littles… it was the start of what is, Wild Handful Farm.
3 thoughts on “My Why”
Loved reading your blog, your why and most importantly your very personal and vulnerable journey.
Thank you for sharing that piece with the world! So happy for you, your family and your farm!
Hope to be in the area one of these days to stop by the stand and get one of your beautiful bouquets. Congratulations on the new business!
thank you for following along!
Karen, I just read your My Why. First, you’re a wonderful writer.
I’m so taken by your story and glad you found your passion. Do not be dismayed by the recent event. There (I’m praying) are more good people than bad. I’ve always enjoyed picking up your beautiful flowers and hope to do so again. 💚🩷💚