Double Digits

I'm expecting baby number ten and somehow, even though we will hardly notice the difference logistically speaking in our house between having nine and ten children, it is a milestone which is hitting us hard.  We are now in the land of double digits; ten seems much different from nine. 

How did that happen?  No, wait, please don't tell me, we know how that happens, and we enjoy it better than cable, thank you very much.  Ten children in sixteen years.  Where did those sixteen years come from?  How did I manage to get through ten pregnancies, and participate in the creation of ten new, little people.  The fear of labor and delivery of even one used to give my girlhood mind nightmares.  Now, I will have done it ten times.  When we were married, we never thought we'd get there.  Ten children was way in a distant future with death, judgement, heaven, and hell.  We had so much time and our whole lives ahead of us. Suddenly, a lot of water went under the bridge, and that far off distant, seemingly unreachable time, is happening right now and time is much more precious.  We knew families with ten and more children, of course, but they seemed like such stalwart, legendary figures, way on the top of that unattainable pillar of life experience, certainly we could never aspire to be that.  I'm not sure we've attained legendary status just yet, (and we're not all that gray yet, either, which suggests we are far from done,) but every once in a while the thought crosses my mind; do I look that way to that doe-eyed young mother starting out? 

When number two and three and four came around, although the world already thought we were nuts, among other Catholic families we were still just getting started. Then five and six and seven came along, and we arrived at "big family" status.  Then eight and nine made their appearances and suddenly we were that "really big family in the parish" and even other traditional Catholics were starting to raise their eyebrows.  Suddenly, we are not even immune from the negative, even if well-meaning  comments at our Catholic parish anymore.  Now that's depressing. 

  Not only is this a milestone for us, but the world is starting to notice something different.  We are no longer simply the young, irresponsible family who doesn't know how to turn on the TV.  We don't just make the babies; we take our lives seriously, devoting ourselves to raising and educating these children to have the same ideas as we have.  We are frequently complimented on their good behavior,  but then something ugly happens.  Our mere existence is a threat to their materialistic, complacent lifestyle.  Even if we mind our own business and don't rub it in their faces, our light will not be hidden under a basket, for how bright it is.  "Do you mean to tell me," they are thinking, "that you actually want this many children?  On purpose?  You really are some kind of religious nut.  I used to tease you about being Catholic before, but now I think I just don't understand, and you are making me look bad.  If what you are doing is okay- good even- then my idea of the pursuit of happiness cannot exist side by side peaceably with yours, because they are in direct opposition to each other."  For dh at his office which is full of particularly talented, idealistically-minded, hard working individuals, it is almost a defiant statement;  one of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn't belong. 

The battle lines are clearly drawn.  St. Michael, defend us.