It’s my birthday this Saturday, and we’re celebrating by having pretty much my dream day: my husband and kids and I will take a ferry to an island off of Portland, ME, where my best friend is renting a big house with her new husband and baby. We’ll sit and watch the ocean from rocking chairs or hammocks, get lobsters for dinner from a lobsterman on the island (if you’ve read my novel the Wideness of the Sea you’ll know how close all these things are to my heart), drink wine, play games with the kids, and drift off to sleep with the sound of a clinking harbor bell off in the distance, the salty breeze of the ocean drifting in.

Like I said, a perfect day.

I tend to get reflective around my birthday, and it occurred to me that right now, in this very spot in life, as I roll into my 43rd year and roll out of another year of school for the kids, will be one of those times that I’ll look back on and wonder how did I do all that? Six kids, TWO nineteen month old boys, a marriage I try hard to make strong and a husband who I love spending time with, a dog and a cat, a writing life full of deadlines for short projects and bigger projects that whisper to me all the time, stacks of books I want to read, and dinner every night.

And then it hits me: is this a great life or what?

I know from the number of people who say to me ‘Oh my gosh, six kids! Better you than me’ that its not a life many people would choose. It sounds hard. It sounds like too much responsibility. Too much life to give up.

But I owe it to anyone out there who is wondering if they could do big family life to tell them that the world has it so wrong. Laying down your life for other people sets you free. 

Definitely not in the day to day, hour by hour, is-it-almost-bedtime-yet sense of being free. On this level, it’s super hard, and there is a lot of work that needs to get done everyday and a lot to manage. I’m in a season where I rarely get to do what I want (and I tend to compensate by staying up too late one night a week and walk around tired the next day because I just need that one chunk of time alone.) There is effort. There is self-sacrifice. There are always piles of dishes and laundry. And I am v v grateful that my husband does all these things with me.

But when I wonder about how to bring goodness into the world and what I could do with my life that has the most meaning, there is this intense peace about caring for all these beautiful souls. And they will leave and have families and hopefully bring love and joy to the world. Each one of my kids could be a life’s work that I was proud of, and I get to multiply that feeling by six.

And here’s the thing: in filling up my plate so full, everything unnecessary has had to get removed from my life, so that only what’s necessary remains. It’s simple, its pure, and while it’s not easy, it is a very light burden. Because all that remains is to love and be loved. And somewhere deep in our hearts that is what we are wired for. That’s what we were created to do. And I get to do it every day.

I often think it’s a bit like breathing, like inhaling and exhaling. I feed people, I go for a run, feed people, run kids to sports, make dinner, do the power hour with the babies where we do baths, diapers, jammies, bottle and bed. I read a book with my six year old, and I chat with my big kids about their lives. And then I fall in to bed, exhausted, knowing that the babies will be up early and we’ll do it all over again. But in between all these activities, there are these moments. A hug, a kiss, a smile, a giggle, a laugh, a discovery, a song, a dance party, a tickle session. And I know that these are the moments I will treasure in my heart forever, like on-my-death-bed montage playing in my head of these memories and I’ll think, I’d do it all again. Just like that. It was perfect. 

And I know from spending a nanosecond in the media that this life sounds horrible to many people. But one book read, one meal, one interaction with my kids, means more to me than any accolade. Sure they are shiny and they catch my attention. Sure I would love to have more time to work. But this loving and being loved business? Man. Nothing is quite like it.

I think we’re at a very interesting point in history where women can do whatever they want. And that is as it should be. Women are such a gift to the world. Men are too. I just hope that women and men who are coming down the pike know that of all the things they could do, one of the choices available to them is to fall crazy madly in love with people, and live together with them in chaos and noise and clutter and messes and joy. Lots and lots of joy. And that this choice isn’t crazy. It shouldn’t be laid down too casually or rejected too easily. It actually might be the best thing they could ever have done with their lives. Sure you might be broke at the end, but only if you measure what’s not important. If you measure what’s important, you’re cup runneth over.