I have three children. My oldest, Soul, recently turned 6; Paix, my second son, is 3; and I now have my first little girl, Jiyu, who is 4 months old. That makes the age gap between my first and last kid almost six years!

When we found out we were pregnant with Jiyu, I was excited to be a new mom again.  I also knew that we would have to start rethinking our lifestyle, schedules, and all of the new things we had just started doing again since we had had our first and second child.

We were on a strict schedule with our first son, he ate, slept, and played on a time clock. Now, with three kids, the third one has to roll with whatever happens with her siblings that may affect her own schedule. Of course, eating and sleeping are still planned out, but instead of checking the clock to make sure we are home in time, we first check on what’s happening with her siblings’ schedules.

Before I gave birth to my daughter, people definitely offered advice about having kids with a large age gap. One tip was to be sure to acknowledge the helpful things my oldest son does. This way, he could be a part of all the new baby duties. Friends with children with large age gaps often told me, “Oh, you’re going to need a babysitter now.” I’ve taken that advice and decided to use it within our little family. Although my 6-year-old son can’t be left alone with his baby sister, he certainly is capable of watching her when Mom needs to run to the restroom, and helps keep her entertained. Using the word "babysitter" seems to make my 6-year-old feel like a big guy, and he gets to spend some one-on-one time with our second child, too, which he absolutely loves.

In my opinion, having this age gap is wonderful -- the kids can really bond. My oldest is very aware of the baby and loves giving her so much of his attention. I think that knowing that he is a big brother who can help out with his sister contributes to his sense of compassion and responsibility. In just a few short months, I’ve also watched my 3-year-old son really step into the role of the "bigger" sibling.

Having kids with a large age gap is nice for me as a mom, too. Older children can be a huge help, and watching them meet a new sibling for the first time is priceless. When my oldest son first met his sister, he was so proud, and old enough to understand his new role a bit better.

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The mental note-to-self during labor with my first child went something like this: You definitely don't want to do this again. Three kids later, it's obvious that I did not listen to my own advice. I guess it's true that the joy of having a child far outweighs the discomforts of pregnancy and childbirth. But even beyond that, I have to admit that giving birth was easier the second and third time around. For those of you who may be wondering if that means less pain, in my case it did. But before I jump into that part of the story, I'd just like to say that my subsequent labor and deliveries were better. Much better -- and here's why: 

My symptoms did not change. My attitude did. For instance, I experienced just as much nausea during my second pregnancy and my third, as I did with the first. In fact, nearly everything about the subsequent pregnancies and the deliveries was identical. What changed was how I handled it mentally. Knowing what to expect made it easier to prepare both physically and mentally, and it eliminated the surprise factor, which in turn, made it easier to cope.

My accommodations were new and improved. My three children each have nearly five years between them. As you might imagine, medical technology changes rapidly during that time period, although I suspect you don't have to wait five years for that to occur. Likewise, hospital birthing rooms took on a new and improved look. The transformation from cold operating room to warmly decorated bedroom-like surroundings was a welcome change indeed.

My subsequent deliveries were faster -- much faster. My first birth was somewhat complicated by the fact that my daughter was in posterior position (the back of the baby's head is against the mothers' back). In spite of this complication, I managed to evade both a C-section and the forceps, but it definitely slowed the process. On the other hand, her brothers came into this world in a hurry, sans posterior problems and all. While I know that subsequent births are not always quicker than first births, it was a welcome truth in my case.

My confidence emerged. Just like anything you've done before, a successful experience generates confidence. With one labor and delivery already on my mommy résumé, I had more confidence with the second pregnancy. Experience taught me what worked well and what didn't, and that's a far cry from the fear of the unknown that accompanies any first birth.

While it's certainly true that no two birth stories are ever the same, most mothers are more physically and mentally prepared the second -- and third -- time around. I certainly was, and it made all the difference!

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“Any day now,” my ob-gyn said two weeks before my due date of January 23, 2013. I was 4 centimeters dilated and 80 percent effaced, meaning I was going to meet my daughter soon. That day, I hugged my co-workers goodbye, organized the baby’s armoire for the 15th time, had my husband fuel up the car, and waited. My due date came and went -- nothing.

I continued the countdown for a few more days, crossing the 28th off the calendar, and went in for another checkup. My doctor looked perplexed. “I’m rarely wrong,” she said, eyeing my bump. “You shouldn’t go beyond a week and a half,” she added. “We may have to induce.” She gave me a few dates to choose from for an induction, but I was intent on going into labor naturally. I didn’t think my late delivery would go much longer. So I took my belly home and researched ways I could hurry things along: long walks, spicy food, pineapple juice. Check, check, check, but still nothing.

A few days later I came across another suggestion: eggplant parmigiana! I read about a restaurant in Georgia that has served this dish to more than 300 expectant mothers who reportedly gave birth within 48 hours. I was skeptical but decided to take a chance, if only to enjoy a nice lunch before my days of eating out were put on pause. Three hours later I felt a few twinges that slowly escalated into full-blown contractions. Coincidence?

I was in labor. Here we go, I thought. I called my husband at work, and he quickly reminded me of the old 5-1-1 rule (contractions should be 5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute each for 1 hour). I sat on my couch and thought about all those women who had regaled me with stories about how they did the laundry or went to the movies while they were laboring. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

Around 10 p.m., the contractions were coming quickly -- 5-1-1 was in full effect -- so I met my ob-gyn at the hospital. But a quick check of my cervix revealed I wasn’t sufficiently dilated. My choices were simple: Go all the way home and labor some more, or stay in the hospital and be induced. I later discovered my doctor had scheduled me for an induction at 6 a.m. the next day, which meant there was a hospital bed waiting for me.

I still thought my baby would arrive before daybreak, so I decided to stay the night. It must have been quite cozy inside my belly because she didn’t budge on that cold winter’s night. The next morning I was induced and Eva made her fashionably late entrance into the world at 7:24 p.m. on February 1, 2013. We forgave her lack of punctuality as soon as we saw her beautiful little face.

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Naming your new baby has got to be one of the most exciting parts of pregnancy and parenthood! Like many women, I had compiled a secret list of baby names before I even became pregnant. Some baby names and meanings were classic, some were trendy, and some were taken from literature, but all struck a chord with me in some way. 

I had never shared my list with anyone -- and then one day my husband and I found out we were expecting! Suddenly, those treasured baby names didn’t seem so significant. There was now an actual person who would be walking around with this name, so we didn’t want to pick just any name. Of course, we paged through the baby name books and marked our favorites -- none of which matched -- and so the conversation continued.

We weren’t finding out the gender of the baby before birth, so we had to decide on not one, but two names!  We agreed on the boy’s name easily, but choosing the girl’s name proved more difficult. To complicate matters, I was teaching at an all-girls school and had so many associations with so many names of former and current students that I was having trouble coming up with a baby name meaning that was perfect for us…and time was running out!

I mean that literally -- we were in the hospital and still hadn’t decided on a name!  All through labor my husband and I couldn’t agree. We said the usual, “We’ll see what the baby looks like before we pick a name." Well, two days after the birth of our daughter -- yes, a girl! -- we still hadn’t picked a name!  I felt bad that after years of adding to and perfecting my baby name list, my precious new daughter was being referred to as “Baby Girl.” We were told we had to have a name before we could leave the hospital. And then my husband suggested the perfect name: Margaret.

Of course! Why hadn’t we thought of that sooner? It is the name of the great-grandmothers on both sides of the family; it is classic; and it has many possibilities for nicknames. Uh-oh, nicknames? Let’s just stick with Margaret for now. We love our choice and our little baby girl, Margaret!

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My son’s 1^st birthday party was at our favorite mini golf spot. The real reason behind the locale:  A year earlier I went into labor around the fifth hole there! It was two weeks and five days before my due date so I spent the thirteen holes thinking I was experiencing Braxton Hicks.

My bags weren’t packed, but my birth plan was set. It was simple: No epidural, be ready to push in every position, and no episiotomy. When I made it to the hospital, I followed all the natural birth tips my birthing classes had provided. While everything I learned did come in handy, what really got me through the delivery was having trust in myself.

It wasn’t easy -- I felt like the baby I waited nine months to meet was sucking every ounce of life out of me. I tried walking through the pain, lying down, sitting up, and every breathing technique Lamaze taught. My partner, Jay, was a huge help. He was my voice when I couldn’t talk loud enough, my cane when I couldn’t walk, my pillow when I couldn’t be on the bed, and when I looked in his eyes they only told me that I could do it.

However, I wasn’t told that when you feel like you’re going to poop that means the baby is coming. Before, I knew it I was pushing. I didn’t have an epidural and I really think that it was a blessing to feel everything. Feeling the contractions let me know when to push, instead of relying on a nurse or doctor’s instruction.

I wanted to scream when I felt the “ring of fire.” The truth is, screaming didn’t help me feel any less pain. It actually tightened up my muscles and made those final pushes more difficult. I found that growling was the perfect way to release my frustration without prolonging my boy’s arrival!

At 4:26 a.m., my son, Jackson Stuart joined the world. He is perfect and I hope he trusts me to always love him. My natural birth experience was not a walk in the park -- or a putt on the golf course! -- but I wouldn’t have had it any other way!

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