Little Mountain Momma

A Family Update & A New Adventure

2020-05-16T11:18:00.000-07:00

Family & Friends, this is not an easy post to share. By nature I tend to be an "oversharer", (hello, enneagram 2 🖐), but in this case, I have been in such a vulnerable place and everything in me wants to hold the details of our family's last three months close to my heart. I ultimately decided to share, because in an ugly place of feeling sorry for myself, I heard God give me the answer to something I've been crying out for desperately the past few months. "Is there really a greater purpose to my pain? And if so, please God, show me."

Most of you know that pregnancy loss is a part of our family. I've shared openly about our losses both after Mackenzie and Levi. These were difficult seasons for us but we can look back now and see how God's hand was in every part of our story and the growing of our family. Neither Levi or Evie would be here today had we not lost those babies.

We thought we were done at 3 healthy babies but earlier this year we got the surprise of a lifetime when we found out we were unexpectedly pregnant and due this fall. After the initial shock we were all absolutely overjoyed. All three kids were so excited to make their little trio a foursome. Then, we were devastated to go in for our first ultrasound, to see a baby with a beating heart and to be told that our baby's heart was slowing down and likely wouldn't make it. To say we were crushed would be an understatement. Never before have God's plans felt so confusing. So messed up. So cruel and lacking compassion. Did we hear wrong? Did we do something wrong? Why show us a baby with a beating heart only for us to be told to go home and wait for our baby to die? These are questions I have wrestled with every day for the past 3 months.

After our first loss earlier this year, we decided that the blessing in it all was that God must be confirming that, yes, he wants for us to have four babies. We were surprised (albeit, very anxious) to find out we were pregnant again. And again, we went in for our first ultrasound to be told that this time, a gestational sack had grown but that our baby had never grown at all. Again, we were devastated. The Christmas baby we had spent so many hours dreaming about and planning for wouldn't be joining our family.

This has been a season of real wrestling with my faith. Is God who He says He is? Is He truly a God of compassion and love? Why does He create life if His plan is for me to bleed death down the drain of our shower? Are His thoughts and plans really, truly good when all along, He knows that my baby's life will be summed up in a matter of a few short weeks? Did He truly cry with me on the day that I logged onto my Amazon prime to click "add to cart", a tiny urn, to hold the baby that we would bury in our backyard? Why is He okay with me shivering in an ER as the remaining tissues of a baby that He created are sucked and scraped out of my body? Where is God to answer questions when our 7- year-old son asks, "Why does God let all our babies die?" Is an army of praying believers really enough to bring about a miracle? Because, we have had a literal army of friends and family members on their knees, storming Heaven's gates for us for 3 months, and all it feels like we've been left with is shattered dreams and hearts.

I am learning that the grieving and the sadness and the anger is good and even holy. I am learning that even if I don't understand what God is doing, I am exactly where He wants me. I am surrendered and my heart is broken more than it has ever been, and yet, I have never needed Him more than I do now. I am learning that if there wasn't this tension, the tension of not fully understanding God and His heart, I would stop seeking Him. If I understood everything and could put a definite answer to all of my pain and suffering, I would no longer have a need for God. And that, is why there is beauty in the tension. Because as long as there are questions, I keep finding myself at His feet.

Earlier this month, I was in another repeated cycle of feeling sorry for myself when I felt like He finally spoke. He didn't answer my questions of WHY we keep losing our babies or of why we now have more dead babies than living babies. But He did remind me that I'm not the only one hurting.

I started to think about how hard due dates are. The due dates of the babies I have lost have been some of the hardest days of my life. Long after our losses, these dates loom on a calendar and the closer they come, the more I dread them. The day that should have been a day of joy and anticipation of holding my baby against my chest and breathing in the smell of life, is replaced by a day that sits heavy on my heart. Life spins madly on but no one remembers due dates. Spouses don't remember and friends don't think of them. Understandably so, because months have passed. On the day of our baby's due dates, we as loss Mommas aren't watching a clock, anxiously waiting for our water to break or for labor to start. We still have to work and care for other children and go on living life. We should be carrying a giant basketball of a belly instead of a broken heart. Instead we grieve silently and we remember and keep those memories close to our hearts. I know I'm not the only one who dreads the due dates of my babies in Heaven.

And so, came about the idea for Ezra & Evie, an Etsy shop I am designing around honoring Mommas of pregnancy, baby loss and infertility. This shop is still in the early planning stages but my vision is to provide various sized gift boxes of locally packaged and thoughtfully planned gifts that can be sent to loved ones and friends who have either just experienced a loss or are anticipating an impeding due date.

I can't tell you how many times I have had women reach out to me and ask, "How can I best support my friend who just lost her baby?" And every single time I emphatically tell them, "Find out her due date and remember it. Honor her baby on that day even if it is 7 months from now. Make sure you get it on the calendar." And almost every single time I give this answer, I am met with surprise.

I am certain that God's hand is written all over this new adventure because earlier this week while sitting on our back patio and doing the early research and planning, our umbrella fell on top of me and smashed our Macbook Computer. It was as if Satan caught wind of hope rising up within me for the first time in months and thought, "I'll end this right here." Well, we've got a massive deductible to pay and a computer that is out of commission for a while but I'm sharing today that Satan ins't going to stop me from moving forward in this plan to bless hurting Mommas. As hard as the past 3 months have been on my heart, I will continue to believe that a powerful testimony is enough to triumph over the enemy and I believe that in this season, opening a shop is the way God is calling me to share my testimony and to help other Mommas feel more seen.

I have no idea what the future looks like for our family. These days I have more questions than I do answers. I wish I could end this post smoothly by tying it with a pretty bow but the truth is, life is often more messy and hard than it is pretty and put together and Pinterest worthy. And, this is just where we are right now. We are hurting and broken and we feel a little less complete as a family than we did coming into the New Year. I was hesitant to share any of the details of our family's year so far because often times Social Media can become a place where we watch others hurting from the sidelines and we feel pity for them. I don't want pity. If we never grow our family again and the best way we glorify God here on earth is through the Baker Trio, I will be grateful beyond measure. If my little shop ends up sending only one box to a Momma somewhere, whose heart is hurting and she needs to feel seen, then the broken computer and sleepless nights of planning were worth it.

To all of our friends and family members who lave literally been on your knees for us, have showed up with meals and sent flowers, ordered us groceries, left coffee on our doorstep, delivered brownies, toys and games for the kids, have said "screw it" to covid isolation requirements to help watch our kiddos, have offered to show up and pray in parking lots during ultrasounds and to argue with medical technicians over results and policies, my gosh there are truly no ways to properly say, "thank you". Our family has never felt so loved by our community and the body of Christ. We love you guys more than you could ever know.

Thank you for being our tribe.

Love, Brittany

Creating a Safe Home in a World That is Unsafe

2020-03-14T10:01:00.001-07:00

In a recent counseling session I told my counselor that I have a vision of my home being a safe haven for our family. A home where, at the end of a long day, my husband can enjoy a warm meal, relax in a clean home and leave the stress of his work day at the door. A home where my kids can enter after a long day at school, they can walk through our front door and know they will be fully accepted and loved and can feel peace ... all while eating warm chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven.

Sounds amazing....AND incredibly unrealistic. Very "Pottery Barn Pinter-esque". I just made up a new 2020 phrase and I think it fits.

My counselor asked me “Brittany, what threatens this dream of your home being a “safe haven”? I began to rattle off things like, “When the kids fight.” “When someone gets sick.” “When my husband feels extra stress from clients and he can’t leave that stress at work.” "When we have unexpected vet bills." “When I burn the cookies”.

You see, the problem with this vision is that it doesn’t allow grace for the fact that our home is FULL of sinners. Our home is by it's very nature, broken. If I hold too tightly to this vision, I’m expecting perfection from imperfect people and I actually create an environment that feels threatening and creates an expectation of perfection.

I create the expectation on myself that I have to MAKE things perfect and I also foster attitudes of entitlement within my children when they come to expect perfection and they don't receive it.

This vision doesn’t allow for my kids and husband or even myself to experience pain, anger, frustration, heartache, brokenness or sin.

My counselor pointed out that by allowing my children to fight, by giving my husband the space to feel stressed, by showing myself grace for a messy home or an adult temper tantrum or burned cookies, I’m actually creating the “safe haven” that I so greatly desire.

My family should know that in our home, we allow fighting. We allow anger and stress and anxiety. We embrace our messy brokenness without judgement. We choose forgiveness and we model grace to ourselves and each other even on the days where someone has the stomach flu, half the puzzle pieces are missing, dad has lost his temper and one kid is streaking through the house naked.

I share all of this with you because we are in an especially hard season as a family. This vision of my home as a “safe haven” feels threatened often minute to minute. And, with the added stress of school closures and the panic going on outside of the walls of our home, we’re going to be spending LOTS of quality time together over the next several months. I get to decide what I want the next several months to look like and how I want our time as a family in this season of extra closeness to be remembered.

This morning a friend reminded me that, “The world can feel chaotic but our homes don’t have to.” This seems counter-intuitive when I’m sharing that I want my kids to feel free to fight and that I want the grace for myself to have a bad day. Just by admitting this, it feels like I'm inviting chaos into our home.

I think the point is that WE SET THE TONE in our homes for what FEELS like chaos. If we as parents react to every high pitched scream, every whine, every tantrum, every little thing that throws off our day, we DO create a sense of chaos inside the walls of our home. When we CREATE the sense of chaos, then the dream for our “safe haven” IS threatened because our home is no safer than standing in the middle of mass hysteria at our local grocery store.

However, if we choose to breathe deep through the bickering, to redirect when we’re at one another’s throats, to throw impromptu dance parties in the kitchen in our underwear, to play endless amounts of board games and to laugh when one kid is a sore loser, rather than becoming angry because the vision for a "picture perfect" afternoon has gone ary...It is only then that the energy in our homes feel SAFE for the ones that we love.

And so, I am working on training my brain to think quite a bit differently about what a "safe haven" within the walls of our home can and should look like.

It doesn't need to be home with stain free couches and perfectly plumped throw pillows and fresh baked cookies on the counter. It doesn't need to be a home free from fighting or potty training accidents or nap boycotts. We don't need to be a Stepford family that feels the need to walk on eggshells around one another to all be happy.

A "safe haven" can AND should be a home where we each feel accepted and loved in spite of sin. Safe to feel allll the emotions. Safe to ugly cry. Safe to be messy. Safe to be humble and willing to ask for forgiveness on the really ugly days when we've hurt one another and need a fresh start. I am coming to believe that with this perspective in mind, our homes in all of their messy, chaotic glory, can STILL feel like a safe haven from an outside world that is broken and scary.

Love, Brittany

Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus

2020-03-03T05:22:00.001-08:00

I have a confession to make: Last night, I collapsed in a puddle into my husband's arms, the second he walked in the door from work.  Not because of our mountains of laundry that never seem to lessen or because of needy kids whose requests never let up throughout the day.  Not because a messy home or because of one child's endless pursuit to take me out. (This youngest child shall remain nameless to respect her reputation as future leader of the world). Ha!  

No, I collapsed into a blubbering mess because the overwhelming task of raising tiny humans in this world is downright SCARY.  I can not sign onto facebook without being inundated with Coronavirus warnings and threats to stock up my pantry.  In a moment of weakness I did an Amazon search and the price of hospital face masks is up to SEVENTY DOLLARS a pack. Yesterday I read a post on a friend's wall telling me to take my kids out of public schools because the government is after them and vaccines are of the devil.  My next door neighbor believes that I'm destroying the ozone because I start my car in the mornings before I load my kids up.  And, I thought very seriously about canceling our family adventure to go see the Beach Boys in concert this Summer because I couldn't think of a better place for a mass shooting to occur.  

Look, I'm not denying that vaccines are harmful and I'm not saying we shouldn't be petitioning on the steps of the Capitol Building to advocate for our rights and the protection of our families.  I'm not saying that my neighbor is crazy and that she's one step away from being sucked into some unknown layer of the Ozone.  (Okay, I maybe AM saying that). I'm not saying that it wouldn't be wise to stock up on elderberry syrup and extra pantry supplies or that I shouldn't think twice before taking our family to a large public outing.  

But what I am saying quite literally is this:

KEEP ME NEAR THE CROSS LORD JESUS.  You guys, I am DONE.  I am not usually an anxious person.  I have been honest in sharing that I struggle chronically with bouts of depression. But, anxiety is generally not a huge "thing" for me.  Lately though, I have been so burdened and overcome by the anxiety and the seemingly impossible MOUNTAIN of a task that is before me.  HOW do I raise healthy, well rounded, kind and selfless humans in a world that is downright terrifying to me?  How do I make informed and educated decisions about how to protect their bodies and their minds and hearts without allowing my own JOY to be stolen and trampled on by fear of the unknown and fear that I'm going to make or not make a decision that might alter the course of their little lives?

I was reminded in reading Genesis 3 today that after Adam and Eve sinned, God came looking for them and He asked, "Where are you?"  He didn't physically want to know where they were.  Because, He's God, and of course he knew exactly where they were physically hiding.  No, he was asking "Where are your hearts?"  "Why are you HIDING from me?" I was humbly reminded of how often I hide when I am ashamed, or fearful or feel utterly helpless.  

I hop on social media to mindlessly scroll through Facebook and (surprise, surprise), I sign off more anxious than ever.  I turn on the Bachelor to numb myself and get lost in the insane drama of catty women and a downright douche bag of a man.  Hello, Peter.  I hop on Amazon Prime and I search for hospital face masks or Easter outfits-- depending on which end of the stress pendulum I'm swinging towards in that moment.  I tune out the voice of God or I silence my own thoughts by throwing on an audio book or a podcast.  Anything to hide and avoid and numb what's really going on in my heart.  Anything to avoid really seeking God in the middle of life's HARD and messy and broken places.  

So this morning, I humbly came before Jesus, broken and with hands spread out in an offering of surrender.  I offered Him my heart and I told Him everything I've been feeling and I asked for Him to renew His place on the throne and in  JESUS' NAME to take back all fear and anxiety and power.

"Jesus, I am SCARED. I am afraid and I don't know how to put one step in front of the other.  I don't know how to be a good wife and momma without fear taking over.  I NEED you to lead me and guide me EVERY day, every hour and every minute.  The thief may come to steal, kill and destroy, but I need YOU to surround our home with LOVE and JOY and PEACE.  I need YOU to be my guide.  Show me how to guard my heart so that I am not letting unnecessary fear take over.  But, give me WISDOM in knowing when it is wise to take action to protect and advocate for my family.  I need you Jesus."

If you're in my shoes and you're feeling overwhelmed and anxious today, my prayer is that you will be encouraged to know that you are not alone.  I feel you.  I am walking this same uncertain and scary road.  I hope that today you can step into this place of humble surrender with me.  I hope that you will borrow my prayer as your own and that you will insert your own fears and anxieties and questions.  My prayer is that Jesus will draw near to both of us and that minute by minute, second by second, we will lean  and turn our eyes to HIM to be our source of perspective and to renew our joy.  We are not dependent on friends or family members to be this source of truth for us. We are not reliant on our government or politicians for their wisdom and direction.  The inundation of facts and perspectives from podcasts or instastories don't have the final say.  

All of these might have value but at the end of the day, if looking to them is creating more anxiety and less peace and less JOY, there's ONE we probably missed in the mix of it all and that is MORE turning our eyes upon Jesus. 

Love, Brittany

My Comeback Blog

2019-12-26T04:25:00.001-08:00

I have spent the better half of 2019, wishing that I could be anywhere but here. And by “here” I mean, present. In my own body, doing the painstaking hard work of adulting. Has the word “adulting” officially been added to the Webster’s Dictionary yet? Because if not, that should be at the top of Merriam’s “to do” list of 2020.

At the onset of 2019, I was asked what my word of the year would be. I was beginning the year feeling incredibly depleted emotionally and physically. I chose the word "joy" because it was, quite frankly, the last thing I was experiencing as the New Year rolled in. I remember my Ebenezer Scrooge "bah humbug" attitude on New Year's Eve of last year. I was feeling cynical of all you bright, optimistic go-getters with your resolutions and proclamations of what the new year would bring. I, on the other hand just wanted to climb under my covers and sleep the month of January away.

So naturally, "joy" felt like a good word to refocus my energy on and pursue in the new year. I couldn't realistically hide under my bed covers for the entire dreary month of January, but I could attempt to re-focus my mind and heart and look for joy the places it had been missing it in 2018.

If there were a real life version of Candid Camera following me around in 2019, I'm pretty sure there would be 3 prankster millennial dudes sitting in some obscure electronics room, laughing their skinny jean, hipster tushes off at me right now. 2019 rolled in with a sucker punch and spent the year sending one blow after another. If "joy" was what I blindly thought would just fall into my lap over the course of the year, I was in for a rude awakening. What I found was that just "proclaiming" a word over my year, doesn't actually mean squat.

In reality, I think I could say that my word for 2019 was grief. I've spent the year learning that often it takes losing and grieving, for God to really help you re-focus your heart, mind and priorities. But grief is the opposite of joy. And, that's where this whole thing feels incredibly ironic.

In 2019, I watched my best friend stand over her father's casket after a tragic farming accident and I listened to her guttural sobs as she said goodbye to him. I saw my parent's 33 year marriage come to an end and have had to redefine what the word "family" means now that divorce is a part of our story. My preschooler threw an epic tempter tantrum at the playground leaving me with a broken foot. Our otherwise healthy, 3 year-old lab puppy ended up with an infection in her toe which meant I spent the majority of my summer, hobbling on said broken foot, while carting three out-of-school kids and a rambunctious dog, to and from the vet, 2-3 times a week. All the while, incurring over $5,500 in vet bills. I had two hospital stays and an unexpected surgery. I watched my grandpa suffer and eventually pass away, leaving my dad, his siblings and my grandma to pick up the pieces and redefine what their family now looks like. And then, just as I thought 2019 couldn't possible throw anymore sucker punches my way, someone I love was diagnosed with cancer. Watching people you love, suffer and struggle is far from joyous.

I wish I could says that I responded to all of these really hard "adulting" experiences with grace and class. It's humbling to admit that I spent so much of my year feeling sorry for myself and questioning God's heart in it all. What I have experienced this year is a stripping of the many, many things that I depend on and idolize to experience a false sense of joy.

What I missed in the midst of this year was a heart of gratitude. What I lacked was faith that God was in the midst of it all. And instead of leaning into it all and seeking HIS heart for me in the midst of a really difficult year, I found myself numbing myself to the pain and avoiding the real wrestling that would put me face to face with God. One friend even pointed me back to the story of Jacob in Genesis 32 where he wrestled with God. "Isn't it ironic that Jacob wrestled with God and came away with a limp and you're hobbling around on a broken foot?".

And so, here I am, at the start of another New Year and faced, again with the challenge of choosing a word that will represent. I've been mulling it over in my head for the last month or so and this morning at 4:30 am, while lying in bed, the word just came to me. Present. I don't mean "present" like the stack of gifts that were waiting under each of our pine Christmas trees. I mean present as in "here and now", in the moment, intentional.

What I missed while wallowing into my Ben & Jerry's ice cream and railing on God for not rescuing me from pain, was being present. When pain is a part of your story, being present is often the hardest thing to embrace.

Henry Nouwen writes in his book The Inner Voice of Love, "There is a deep hole in your being, like an abyss. You will never succeed in filling that hole, because your needs are inexhaustible. You have to work around it so that gradually the abyss closes. Since the hole is so enormous and your anguish so deep, you will always be tempted to flee from it. There are two extremes to avoid: being completely absorbed in your pain and being distracted by so many things that you stay far away from the wound you want to heal."

I spent the better half of 2019 running from healing. I stopped writing. I buried myself in work. I turned to social media and spent way too many hours scrolling and comparing and scrolling some more. It's embarrassing, really. I suppose I can sit here today and share honestly that tough experiences of this past year have brought me to a rock bottom place of recognizing the need for some drastic changes.

I've never been big on New Year's Resolutions so while sharing my plans for change does feel quite a bit cliche, I hope it will encourage someone else who has been feeling similarly to myself. This year I plan to get back to writing. My husband says I am at my healthiest when I am putting words to the madness that is swirling around in my head.

As a family, we are making some huge technology changes. My social media apps have been deleted from my phone and the passwords have been changed, giving me access to social media only when my husband is home in the evenings to help keep me accountable. I'll be scheduling all business posts ahead of time and only answering comments at set times. We are cancelling cable entirely and the i-pads are being stored somewhere high up on a shelf. Family board games are making a comeback this year in our home. My kids will either learn to love it or their technology deprivation will send them to therapy.

Moving forward, Sundays are for Sabbath and rest. I won't be doing photography sessions on Sundays as a way to be present with our family and to focus on how to best tackle the week ahead.

Other goals for this year are to read more as a family and for myself. We also have a goal to be more intentional about getting our kids out of their entitled, upper class, white skinned American bubble. I could go on and on about this last goal but that's more for another blog post in the future.

I'll be honest in sharing that one of the reasons I stopped writing came from the disillusionment I was feeling towards the blogging world and the trap I was finding myself caught up in as I desired to grow a larger following and gain popularity. This was never, ever why I began writing over here on Little Mountain Momma. If you've been a tried and true follower since the start of this page, you may remember that I began writing as a way to encourage other mommas who were struggling with postpartum depression. Eventually this blog began to extend it's reach further and speak to those dealing with pregnancy loss + the highs and lows of every day motherhood. But, the more I found myself caught up in the desire to be seen and noticed, the more I began to hate it. It felt inauthentic but I wasn't quite sure how to get back the intentional place that this blog originally began from.

Moving forward, my hope is that my writing over here will touch just a few of you. If my words reach more than just a few, then that's wonderful. But in reintroducing myself back into the world of sharing authentically on my little corner of the internet, I have to remain true to the reasons that I began this little blog so many years ago.

I'm just a wife and momma, like so many of you. I don't want free clothing or sponsorships. I don't need or want thousands of readers or followers. I just want to bring light and encouragement to other women who are raising tiny humans to love Jesus and are trying to do it well. I don't have any giant epiphanies to share today other than to be honest in saying that I'm right in the middle of a mess and I am more desperate for Jesus than ever. If that's you too, then you're in the right place and I'm excited to do this journey together.

Happy Halloween!

2017-10-31T14:09:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween friends! I'm not usually one who posts massive amounts of photos of my family but I figured, hey... why not? This year we attended our first costume themed Halloween Party so we decided to have a little fun.

Mackenzie wanted to go as a veterinarian (easy enough). Levi, who wants to do EVERYthing just like his big sister, decided to forgo his Ninja Turtle dreams and be a puppy. To which we said, "How about an injured puppy?" (To fit with the vet theme). He was SOLD.

Now, you would think that a puppy costume would be pretty straightforward. Amazon prime.

Bada-bing Bada-boom. Yeah.... not so much. Amazon prime failed me this time, guys. The day before puppy was suppose to arrive in all of it's 2 day shipping glory (let's just forget about about the small detail that I waited until Halloween week to order), I got a notice in my email letting me know that puppy was canceled. CANCELED.

AMAZON PRIME. I would break up with you except that I love you way too much. On Friday, Jeremy and I drove to every Target, Walmart, Party City known to man. And our final solution? A kid's Star Wars Chewbaca costume from the neck down and a sad looking puppy hat.

Oh well, you can't win them all. #momfail

Evie went as a kitty. She didn't really have much of a choice. I shove her chubby thighs into anything I dang please. That's the beauty of pushing a baby out of your hoo-hah. You get to choose their halloween costumes for the first three years. Yes? Her flamingo costume is already hanging in her closest for next year. #momwin

And as for our adult costumes, Jeremy went as a dog catcher and I went as a crazy cat lady.

It was perrrrfect.

On Sunday, we braved the 80 degree late October temps for a yearly trip to Anderson Farms. We continued with our tradition of bribing for photos in the pumpkin patch. We'll make the trip back again next year for another round of, "SMILE LIKE YOU MEAN IT AND YOU GET TO PICK A PUMPKIN."

This year was also the first year that I had ever heard of Trunk Or Treat. I've clearly been hiding under a rock for the past 8 years of parenting. Low and behold, in all of it's Pinterest glory, there are pages and pages dedicated to this idea of decorating your trunk for Halloween.

I, in true fashion, went a bit overboard. "Camping in The Pumpkin Patch" was the theme. I shoved a giant tent into the back of the SUV and we passed out s'mores. I may have been trying to make up for the failed puppy costume.

Tonight, for Halloween, we will continue our tradition of Papa Murphy's Jack O Lantern Pizza and trick or treating for the first time in our new neighborhood. After the kid's go to bed, we will steal all of their Halloween candy and blame it on the Candy Fairy. I think it's safe to say that after a week of packing in all of the traditions and festive Halloween activities, this momma needs a week long nap! Just in time for the Thanksgiving and Christmas Season.

Why Perfect Parenting Is For The Birds

2017-10-18T20:19:00.005-07:00

Last week I got a call from my 8-year-old daughter's elementary school principal. The conversation went something like this:

Principal- "I'm sorry to be calling you but we uhhh...had an incident today at school. I have M here in the office with me. She's here because a boy in her class poured paint on her boots. Then she ...well... she... she kicked him in the private parts."

Me- "SHE DID WHAT!?"

Today, as I arrived to my son's preschool for pickup (already late I must add), his teachers asked me to step into his classroom. My heart immediately sunk.

"We need to talk. Is something going on at home? We're concerned about L. He keeps falling asleep in class. He seems very out of it. He can't seem to follow simple instructions without his eyes glazing over. Is everything okay?"

Me- "FOR THE LOVE."

In all seriousness, here's what I wanted to say:

"NO. No. No. No. Everything is NOT okay. My oldest is kicking classmates in the MANLY PARTS. My middle little has become the preschool narcoleptic. The baby doesn't sleep at all. But, don't worry... SHE'S not falling asleep with her face in the dog food bowl. Which, by the way is her favorite place to be...eating the dog food, that is.

Last week while nursing the baby, I pulled a piece of scrap metal out of her mouth. Yes, metal. I have a laundry pile so large that it could rival one of Colorado's 14ers. We don't even bother to fold clothes anymore. My second grader goes to school daily with two different socks on because who even has time for matching socks???

Guys. I don't even know anymore. I'm frazzled. I'm exhausted. I look it. I feel it. I spend much of my nights lying in bed between feedings wondering just how many hours of therapy all of my mistakes and missteps as a parent are going to take to "fix" my kids.

Today at the playground after school, as I was wracking my brain for answers to all of life's hardest "mom questions"... it dawned on me: Never before have I needed Jesus like I do as a parent. Never have I been so humbled and so aware of my dysfunction. I've always been a wreck. It's just taking these daily parenting shenanigans for me to see just how much of a wreck I truly am.

So today, I sat plopped down on the cement sidewalk of the playground while my baby attempted to shovel handfuls of leaves and wood chips into her mouth. As I sat there, head hanging and heart low, I realized something. Perfect parenting is for the birds. I found myself waving the figurative white flag of defeat.

Or was it a flag of victory?

You see, maybe coming to this place of surrender truly is a "mom win".

No amount of hustling or striving for perfectionism as a parent is ever going to "fix" my children.

It's not a matter of IF my kids are going to need therapy. It's just a matter of if they will choose to go. My children are going to grow up with baggage and dysfunction and probably a bit of a trauma.

You want to know why?

Because my kids are sinners. Because my husband and I... we are sinners. Because we come from a very long line of sinners. We are broken big people trying to raise broken tiny people.

And every day that I still don't get this parenting thing "right", I get to point my kids to Jesus. I get to ask for forgiveness. I get to plead for grace and mercy and wisdom. All of which are things that I probably wouldn't be asking for if I didn't have tiny humans looking at me to make all of their huge life decisions.

It is exhausting and scary and many days I feel so overwhelmed that I wonder if today is the day I end up in the psych ward of our local mental hospital.

But maybe, just maybe, this is exactly the place that the Lord desires for us to be. Maybe, it is here in this place of humble parenting, head hanging and arms raised in total surrender of our understanding and will, that God does his holiest and best heart work.

These Are My Confessions

2017-05-25T08:47:00.000-07:00

I feel like I'm about to confess to a murder. I promise you, I'm not. That would really make this post interesting though, wouldn't it? In "mommy world", I sure feel like this confession puts me right up there with jailbird Martha Stewart. Only, I haven't committed tax fraud either.

For the past 7 years on this blog I have shared DIY projects, baking debacles, elaborate holiday celebrations. I even once shared a post with feline shaped cookies where we forced a party hat on our less-than-thrilled cat and celebrated his 1st birthday. Poor Belmont. May he rest in peace.

Almost every one of these posts has revolved around my children in some one form or another. I think for the most part, I do a pretty good job of enjoying my children. I do love my children. Most days I even really like them. I find them funny and charming. I have three of them and I chose to have them so... that says something positive, right?

But guys, here it is... here is the honest to God truth...

I hate, loathe, despise and want to murder Summer break. Can you murder Summer break? Is that even a thing?

Because I totally want to do it.

I am less than 24 hours into Summer Break and I have chosen to vacation at the nearest Whole Foods. I strategically chose this spot because I can be in a setting that makes me feel "semi" more adultish, they provide new and interesting toys for my child and an abundance of coffee and overpriced cake for myself.

Yes, cake for breakfast. This is how I self soothe. Go ahead, judge away.

As I type this I find myself methodically pushing a stroller with one foot, sleeping baby in tow, while plastic play food is shoved at my face every 12 seconds by my now graduated pre-schooler who wants me to pretend to eat plastic bell peppers.

This is going to sound incredibly pathetic. But this morning I cried.

Summer break has been quickly approaching. Coming like a hurricane, swirling and whirling as it looms ominously in the sky, threatening destruction.

And I cried at this thought.

I don't know what this says about me, guys.

I cried at the thought of 16 hour days where I am forced to answer hundreds of repetitive questions like, "Do Ninja Turtles have penises?" and "Can you make Barbie Big Boobs talk?"

The endless bickering, the whiney proclamations of, "I'm borrred..." And, quite possibly the worst...

The look. The one where their eyes get big and wide and they stare blankly at me as if every ounce of creativity has left their little bodies.

The look they give as if to ask, "How are you going to entertain us today, mom?"

It's like the look of death.

When Mackenzie started Kindergarten several years ago I discovered something. I am a better mom when she is in school. And now, I've discovered it yet again. I am a better mom when BOTH of my kids are in school. And I have zero ounces of shame in admitting this. Zero. I like my kids better when someone else is caring for them.

I get a chance to miss them. When they come around again, I'm actually excited to see their squishy faces. I hug them, I slobber kisses all over them and I realize -- wow, I generally like these kids again!

But Summer Break, you destroy all notions of me missing my children. You stick me in a tiny, humid house and make me want to hide in a closet with allll the Sangria, while my tiny humans parent the heck out of themselves.

Ohhh, that thought alone almost, AMOST makes me smile.

Today is officially Day 1. And I feel like the first step to recovering from Summer Breakitis is to admit that I have a problem.

So here I sit, foot officially numb from the back and forth of the stroller, confessing to you my dirty secret.

My preschooler just shoved a pear at my eye and said, "Mom! You wanna look inside of it?!?"

No.

No, Levi. I actually do not want to look inside of the plastic pear.

But I'm a mom. I'm a good mom. So that's what I'll do. I look inside of the plastic pear and pretend to be remotely interested.

And that's what I'm going to do the rest of the whole dang Summer. I'm going to pretend I'm remotely interested.

I'm going to don my mom bathing suit and suck in my postpartum jiggly belly while I chase my kids around swimming pools and splash pads.

I'm going to serve popsicles loaded with sugar and red food coloring (or is it green?) and then watch as they bounce like hooligans off the walls of my home and get their sticky hands on my furniture.

I will plaster on a giant smile. I might even adjust my attitude sometime around mid July after the fireworks have been lit and the garden veggies have started to sprout.

You might even see photos of me enjoying summer break with my three tiny humans, eating the popsicles with them and traipsing around Colorado together.

But please know... when August 23rd rolls around and it's time to start spending exorbitant amounts of money on school supplies and tacky backpacks...

I, my friends, will be in my happy place.

The World Spins Madly On

2017-05-14T06:44:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite authors Mandy Arioto once said, "Words have heart beats". Isn't it so true that often in life, a song, a poem or a line from a book can just reach out and shake us to the core? Often times we think incredulously, "Why didn't I write that?"

Each Mother's Day and on hard days when I'm thinking of the babies we will never meet this side of heaven, I turn on the song "World Spins Madly On" by the Weepies. I take some time alone and I allow myself to grieve what has been lost.

For those of us who have healthy living babies, rainbow babies and hope babies, there are still parts of the heart that ache.

A momma never forgets.

"I let the day go by, I always say goodbye.

I watch the stars from my window sill, the whole world is moving and I'm still standing still.

I thought of you and where you'd gone and the world spins madly on."

"The world spins madly on."

This is how I felt in the days after our losses when grief was most intense. It's how I felt month after month while trying to conceive again. It's how I feel now in moments when I wonder what my babies would have looked like, when their due dates pass or when I think about the birthdays they should be celebrating.

The hardest part of grieving for me was to know that life was moving on around me while I just couldn't seem to move. Friends and family members naturally heal, they keep walking forward and many forget. And truly, that's okay.

But for the momma who has experienced the loss of a pregnancy or a child, the world really just seems to stop in it's tracks. Grief can feel so paralyzing.

So today sweet momma, if this is you, I hope you let yourself remember. I hope you'll turn on the song that gets the tears flowing and allows you to grieve.

Let your grief be holy. Let it be an act of worship to the one who created your little one. He does nothing whimsically. He has not forgotten.

The world may be spinning madly on around you, but on this day, on Mother's Day, for a moment, for an hour or for many, just let the world stand still.

Reindeer Pajamas & Giant Lattes

2017-05-10T09:21:00.001-07:00

I’m sitting here, hiding. I’m in my husband’s reindeer Christmas pajama pants and a Grande Starbucks Vanilla Latte in my hands. I woke up to kitchen counters piled high with yesterday’s dishes and a dining room still in-swept and un-mopped. My daughter’s school projects invading the space of our kitchen table.

I pick up my phone as I am wading through all of the early morning mess. A text message lights up my phone, signifying that it has come through sometime during the night from a friend.

“Perhaps Jesus will return tonight. Gooood Laaaawd. We have walked and bounced and driven and rocked and swayed and begged. Four hours and counting.”

I read these words and sleepily shuffled my way back through the kitchen. My eyes, once again scanning yesterday’s chaos.

And suddenly, it all just seems to be too much.

In that moment, tears well up in my eyes. My throat tightens and I begin to feel an almost frantic sense coming over me. I need air. A space to breathe and think. I grab my keys and sneak out the front door to my car. The six o’clock morning sun is just beginning to rise east of the Denver skyline. I begin to drive.

In my head, I am justifying my eclectic choice of clothing.

“What if you get pulled over, Brittany? What if, God Forbid, you have to get out of the car? You are wearing a baggy t-shirt, no bra and your husband’s red flannel Christmas pajamas. With reindeer on them for heaven’s sake. What if someone sees you?"

“Who are you kidding? No one sees you.”

And there it is. That sneaky little lie that I’ve been working so hard to fight against.

No one sees you.

No one sees you as you are packing lunches and taking care to make sure all the food groups are represented.

No one sees you as you are digging through that giant pile of socks, searching for the lost prodigal.

No one sees you as you are on your knees scrubbing filth and the smell of urine from around the toilet from your potty training little man.

No one sees you as are rocking your feverish, inconsolable babe at 3 a.m.

No one sees you while you are on the phone making dentist appointments and negotiating medical bills.

No one sees as you are signing kids up for summer camp.

Buying flowers for teacher appreciation week.

Scouring the internet for the best prices on vitamins.

Cutting up veggies for dinner (that no one will likely eat).

Stripping bedsheets to be washed.

Feeding the bunnies. (Yes, we have three and I still don’t know why).

Boiling the family toothbrushes.

Ransacking the home for the lost toy that caused the morning’s preschooler meltdown…

No one sees me holed up in my car, in an empty parking lot wearing goofy pajamas and inhaling coffee like an addict.

I’m sure you could add your own “No one sees me…” to this long list. Am I right?

This bold faced lie. It’s been one I’ve been challenging for some time now. If I could stand face to face with Satan, I would spit in his face. Because this lie is one that is pervading the hearts of women everywhere and he’s so darn proud of himself.

This lie is what paralyzes us. It makes us feel less than.

While our husbands are out making an income (seemingly doing something more important), we spend our days negotiating with tiny humans over whether they should wear pants into the grocery store. Yes, I have actually had this argument with my preschooler.

But, I digress...

The truth is, this lie against our identity didn’t just start the second the lines on the stick turned pink. This lie that tells us we aren’t seen, heard or really known isn’t actually a lie just for mommas. It is a lie for all of humanity.

It started as a whisper when you were a child. And the lie continued to grow. You began to hide your flaws and shame while learning to overcompensate through perfectionism. Now, even as an adult, this lie crosses the sacred boundaries of marriage, families and friendships.

I single out mommas, because I believe that often times, it is motherhood that shines the light on the lies we’ve been believing our whole lives. At least that is what it has done for me.

It is through our children that we often realize the inconsistencies and the healing that must take place for us to return to the whole and unbroken identity that God truly desires for us to find in Him. We look at our children and we see a wholeness and a purity that hasn’t been marred yet.

And then we bravely begin to dream that we can believe this truth for ourselves.

What is this truth? God sees.

It's so simple and yet so incredibly complicated. Because God sees. But we don't believe it.

If you want proof, go open your Bible to Genesis 16. You'll read of Hagar who was Abram and Sarai's slave girl. She has been essentially forced into an affair so that Sarai can finally have a child. She's been abused for years. To all who know her, Hagar's life is worthless and insignificant. So she runs away and finds herself lost and desperate in the middle of a desert. Then, the miracle happens. When all looks hopeless and desolate, God shows up. He meets her in the desert at a well of water and it is here that Hagar does something unprecedented.

It is the only place in the Bible that anyone ever gives God a name.

She names Him, "El Roi, the God who sees me."

Hagar, a lowly, Egyptian slave girl who is pregnant and essentially homeless, has the audacity to name the God of the Universe and to claim that He sees her.

The first time I heard this story, I sobbed uncontrollably-- one of those embarrassing ugly cries that you really and truly do wish that no one else sees. How is it possible that as a 30-year-old, I had never been told that God sees me?

This same God who met Hagar in her most broken state, loves me in all of my shame and brokenness.

He loves the little girl parts of Brittany that still hide behind insecurity. He loves momma Brittany who hides in her pantry and devours chocolate and wine on the hardest days of parenting.

And so, sweet friends, if you are still reading this post...

I want to share with you something that has been on my heart for the past year. It's not something I have shared with many because sometimes I can still hardly believe it myself.

I am writing a book. I am writing a book!

And, I'm finally feeling brave enough to share this news with you.

The book is called "Seen" and it is about all of the truths God has been revealing about my identity since becoming a momma.

"Seen" is based off of the passage from Genesis 16 and Hagar's story but it will delve into how God desires for each of us to recognize that we are seen in more specific areas like our childhoods, friendships, marriages, motherhood and grief.

Friends, I am so incredibly excited to share this news with you. It's been something I've been keeping (mostly) to myself for the past year and I believe it's finally time for me to start sharing pieces of my story.

This book began one day last year, while sitting in an empty parking lot, wearing my husband's reindeer Christmas pajamas. And now, I'm finally ready to share some of the healing God has been doing in my life.

I am daring to believe that He has healing in store for you too! I hope you will join me on this journey of learning to believe that you are know, loved and truly seen.

And Then There Were Five

2017-03-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

Our precious girl is here! arriving February 1st at 40 weeks and 4 days! Yes, I know that this news is a bit late but we've been busy with lots of newborn snuggles and trying to figure out this whole crazy life with three kids thing. And yes... it HAS been a bit crazy.

One of the things I love about birth is how unique each baby's birth story is.

Our oldest Mackenzie was a scheduled C-section at 39 weeks because she was our "upside down" baby.

Levi was born 2 weeks late and after 54 hours of labor.

And, sweet miss Evie was born after 9 hours of labor and boy did she give us quite the scare towards the end.

The last hour of labor her heart rate plummeted out of nowhere. Just as I thought I was about to get a reprieve from some intense contractions & a nap, multiple nurses flew into our room placing oxygen on me, a fetal heart rate monitor was inserted and put on Evie's head and a newborn warming cart was rolled quickly into our delivery room. Evie came fast after just three pushes!

At 7 lbs 9 oz and a cute little blonde mullet just like her big sister was born with, Evelyn was named to honor great, great grandma Evelyn Carlson.

At 8 weeks old now, Evie has been my quickest baby to master breastfeeding and she's sleeping like a champ with most nights giving us 5-7 hr stretches of sleep.

{If blogging had emojis, here's where I would insert the praise hands!}

Evie is truly the most darling baby. She is already giving us the biggest smiles. She loves to snuggle and would be content sleeping on my chest all day and all night if I let her... & I do try to let her as much as possible. These days are flying way too fast and I'm just not ready to let this sweet girl grow up too soon!

Here's a peek at our lifestyle newborn photography session with Chesney Louie photography -- taken when Evie was 10 days old. Friends, if you are in the Denver area I just can't praise Chesney enough! She is a friend from the second you meet her and my goodness she has such a gift!

Thank you Chesney for capturing these moments for our family! What a gift!

To read more about Evie's story, head on over to I Am Fruitful!

Someday Baby -- Hope & Joy in the Waiting

2017-01-31T08:54:00.001-08:00

As we've been anticipating the coming (and passing) of another Baker Baby due date (because my babies don't ever come "on time"), I recalled back to a letter that I wrote our baby long before he or she was growing inside of me. It was a letter I wrote in the waiting, back in the fall of 2015.

And oddly enough, here I am, still waiting. Now though, I am waiting on the any minute arrival of this wiggle worm who has been taking up residence beneath my heart for the past 9 + months. As I read this letter today for the first time in over a year, I cried. And I smiled. I cried because the waiting has been so incredibly hard. But I smiled because I wouldn't have traded the waiting for anything.

I know that sounds so cliché. But it's so true. It's been through this waiting, this longing, to see LIFE come to our home again, that Jesus has given me a deeper understanding of what it means to be hopeful in BOTH the earthly desires and gifts we pray for but also for far more than that...

I have gained a greater depth and understanding of what it means to HOPE for Jesus and to wait in expectancy for eternity, for the restoration of pain and suffering and to see the beauty made from ashes in the GREATEST way possible. Oh, how my heart longs for the day that I can meet Jesus and rest fully in HIM.

“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?” - John Keats

I would encourage each of you mommas who finds herself in the earthly waiting for another child, to write. Whether this baby is to come biologically, through fostering or adoption. Whether you've had repeated miscarriages or been told there is, "no hope". There is ALWAYS hope, even if it doesn't manifest in the time or fashion that we in our humanness have envisioned.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."

- Proverbs 13:12

As the waiting continues over the next week or so and I anticipate the imminent arrival of our new son or daughter, I find peace in knowing that God's timing is sovereign. The waiting is NEVER without a purpose. I can smile to every family member, friend and perfect stranger who stares at my giant belly and asks, "Still pregnant?" Yes. Yes, for now I still am. And, God, in His wisdom has chosen the exact moment that our family will welcome our newest member. I will rest in knowing that, just as we've waited for years now to meet this little life, the extra minutes I'm waiting on are purposeful and intentional even if I don't always understand "the why".

Dear Someday Baby,

We haven’t met yet but I’ve been dreaming of you for a long time.

Two years, four months and four days to be exact. The day your big brother was born I told your daddy that I couldn’t wait to meet you. Some might laugh and tell me that I should have been enjoying myself in the moment, that I had my hands full enough.

But the truth is, even then I knew. I knew that our little family wasn’t yet complete. And every day since then I have thought of you, prayed for you, hoped for you. When I watch your older sister and brother playing together in the sunlight of our living room, I ache for you because I know that there’s a heartbeat of our family still absent.

When I find your sister reading to your brother, all snuggled together under the covers, I smile. But behind that smile is a whole lot of yearning and wondering when you will finally be here with us.

I wonder when you will join in on our story times and giggle at all of Frog and Toad’s Adventures and sing along to all of our silly Pete the Cat songs.

I envision hide and seek, where you are the third one piled high on wiggly laps while each of you giggle and fail in your attempts stay quiet from our bedroom closet.

I picture another pajama clad blondie to join us during our Christmas tradition of pizza and hot chocolate and driving around to, “Ooooh” and “Ahhhh” at all of the brightly lit homes. I would welcome the extra set of sticky fingers and sleepy yawns just to have you here with us this year.

I smile and (shudder) when I think of trying to wrangle another wiggly baby for family photos.

I wonder what you will look like. If you will have the same blue eyes as your big sister and brother or maybe you’ll be the brown eyed baby to finally match your Aunt Kelsey.

I look at our dining room table and I know deep down that one of the extra seats is being saved for you.

I didn’t know back when I started to dream that it would take so long to meet you. And some days my sweet baby, it seems like it’s been an eternity.

So we wait.

We wait through long weekend trips to our favorite little mountain towns, through summer birthdays and Fourth of July fireworks and wedding celebrations.

We wait through tears and broken hearts as we send another sweet baby to heaven.

We wait as the summer heat begins to lessen and the autumn leaves begin to fall and spiral their whirlwind of eccentric colors. As we anticipate the coming of the winter snow and as we start to plan holiday travel and February trips to Disney World.

And through all of this waiting, deep down I’m praying that you’ll be our little secret soon to keep.

I know that God’s timing is good and perfect. And I know that He is preparing me to be the very best momma for you. But goodness, if I could speed up time, I sure would.

I love you my baby. I can’t wait to meet you and hold you and share with you all of the secrets of my heart. I can’t wait to sing Back To Pooh Corner and to dance with you in our little galley kitchen while we make up for lost time.

Until then my sweet baby, you are so loved! Momma

The Perfect Snow Day Craft for Littles

2016-12-18T17:54:00.000-08:00

Hi friends, It's been a while! We've just been over here raising and growing babies and savoring these last few months together as a family of four! I knew this pregnancy would fly by with the holidays dominating the final months. And just like that... Christmas is just ONE WEEK away.

This weekend we got our first big Denver snowstorm. Our little family hunkered down with lots of yummy food + Christmas movies + cozy jammies. One of my favorite winter movies is Snow Day starring Chevy Chase. I was thrilled to find this movie on Netflix and introduce it to the kids!

If your babes are like mine though, movies aren't enough to keep them busy. I try to keep play dough, baking supplies and crafts up my sleeve to keep them busy for impromptu snow days. One of my favorite things to do is make Salt Dough Ornaments! What's best -- This recipe takes only three ingredients and I can almost bet that you already have them on hand.

Guys, these are SO easy and they can keep the kids busy for more than a half hour at a time. Which is a HUGE win in my book. Mack & Levi are tough because of their four year age difference so I am ALWAYS thrilled to find something that both of them love to do and will keep them equally entertained.

The recipe for the salt dough is as follows:

1 Cup of Flour + 1 Cup of Salt + 1/2 a cup of water

Add more water if you need to make the dough the right rolling consistency.

Throw some extra flour down on the table so that the dough won't stick.

Please excuse the messy bedhead hair.... Hey, that's real life, right?

My kids loved rolling out their dough and then using cookie cutters to make their ornaments. Once cut out, we used the bottom of a mixing stick to press holes into the ornaments to be used later to string our twine through.

Place the cut out dough on a cookie sheet and put into the oven on 200 degrees for 2.5 to 3 hours.

Next comes the painting! We spread this entire project out over a two day period to get double the entertainment! Plus, momma needed a break from all the mess ;)

If you are in need of a last minute crafty gift for your kiddos, IKEA has these fantastic paint sets & roll out paper that we LOVE to pull out on rainy and snowy days.

Lastly, wait until the ornaments dry and then string some twine or ribbon through the cut out hole. Deliver a few to friends along with some homemade holiday cookies! It's the perfect simple kid approved Christmas gift!

Bed Bugs & Cactus Spines

2016-11-10T12:27:00.001-08:00

Earlier this week I sat cross legged in our shower and watched the water pour down in droplets over my bare pregnant belly. Reaching the third trimester milestone seems to have propelled me into the equally scary and exciting reality that this baby is coming....and soon. As I sat there letting the water fall on and around me, I leaned down to my belly and found myself whispering the words, "I hope you are ready to join this crazy circus, Sweet Baby. You are in for quite the ride!" I was both laughing and crying in that moment.

This has been a week for the parenting history books in our home. Sometime, in the distant future, I'm sure I'll look at my husband and ask, "Remember that week.... the week with the hives and the cacti and the Donald and all the puking...? How did we make it through that week?"

But for now, I'm still in that week. I'm still living it. And I'm trying so desperately to find the humor hidden beneath all of the tears and the exhaustion and the countless times I've asked, "Can't this week be over already?"

On Monday, our 7-year-old daughter came home from school with bright red welts covering her neck and arms. I'm not usually the panic driven mom type but being nearly 10 weeks out from welcoming our first "winter baby" was enough to propel me into diagnosing whatever plague had just entered our home. Every imaginable scenario began to play out in my head. Could the welts be an allergic reaction to something on her clothes? Maybe she accidentally ate gluten? The start of Chicken Pox? Hand Foot and Mouth disease? Bed Bugs? Oh good heavens, please not Bed Bugs. This possibility led to the stripping of every bed sheet, pillow case and dust ruffle in our home. We overturned mattresses, took the shop vacuum to every nook and cranny and washed all of the bedding in extra large loads. Nothing. Not a bug. Not a spec of feces. But this was four days ago and the red welts are still popping up with no answers in sight.

On Tuesday, we made the decision to keep Hives Girl home from school. Midway through the day, our little family of four was at each other's throats. Lots of bickering, whining and an overabundance of tears from both the kids and me. In an effort to get out of the house and away from the television's constant coverage of Election Day, we decided to take a walk to Andy's for our favorite frozen custard. And everything was going well...until it wasn't.

We stopped along a creek to let our hyper lab puppy splash in the water and let out some pent up energy. As Boston bounded back up the bank towards us to do the classic "dog water shake", our youngest (middle child-to-be) stumbled backwards in an attempt to stay dry. It was then that he unknowingly tumbled right onto...wait for it...

A cactus.

If you can picture the scene in slow motion -- my husband and I went lunging for him in a failed attempt to break his prickly fall. The look of horror that washed over his 3-year-old-face in that moment was downright pathetic, the dog completely unaware of the chaos that she had just unleashed.

And... end slow motion... cue the shrieking Preschooler.

I immediately go for his pants, ripping them from his waist, while my husband holds him down in attempt to thwart his thrashing. Long cactus spikes lodged so deep that they began to break in half as I attempt to dislodge them, leaving shards of cacti in his swollen legs.

At this point, the humor begins. As little man is shrieking, I throw up my hands in complete disbelief. My husband has himself stepped backwards and has now found his own legs caught in the thorns of the cactus. Mack, with her own bright pink welts is standing nearby helplessly as I am now trying to figure out which of the men in my life needs more rescuing.

The dog... still clueless, bounding in the water nearby.

It is then that Levi begins to scream, " AM I GOING TO DIE? IS IT TIME TO DIE NOW?!"

And, I officially lose it. I find myself again, somewhere between laughing and crying hysterically. The week can only go up from here....right?

Wrong. Oh. So. Wrong.

Fast forward to Wednesday. I am in the car pool lane, on a time crunch. I have exactly one hour to get both kids home, fed dinner and out of pajamas. Yes -- little man is still in his pajamas at 4 pm. Remember, it's been that kind of week. We have to be at our local bookstore for a 2nd grade performance and it's imperative that we not look like hell even though that's what this week has felt like so far.

I look to the backseat from my rear view mirror and can immediately tell that something just isn't right. Cactus boy has turned flush red and is alternating between doing this weird mouth gagging thing while also insisting urgently that he needs to pee.

I immediately go into mom mode. I'm stuck in a line of cars half a mile long with a 3-year-old who is about to start vomiting while also threatening to pee his pants. I throw my car into drive and pull through the bright orange "DO NOT ENTER" cones that block off the back corner of the school parking lot. I quickly dump a grocery bag of it's contents onto the car floor and I shove the bag at Cactus boy, instructing him to aim for the inside of the bag. The vomiting begins. I've climbed out of my SUV at this point and have dumped a Starbucks cup of it's contents and have instructed him to aim his little man parts and pee inside of the cup....while simultaneously puking into the grocery bag.

Now officially late for school pickup, I strip Cactus Boy down to his underwear and strap him back into his car seat. As Hives Girl climbs into the car, I instruct her to, "Hold the puke bag for your brother." At this point, she begins to cry hysterically at the realization that A. She will be missing her class event and B. At my lovely "We're a family, so we hold one another's puke bag" speech.

Mom of the year award right here.

Eventually, little man has covered himself so much in vomit that I have to pull into yet another parking lot corner, strap him illegally into the middle non-car seated seat, all the while, praying on the life of my third child that we do not get pulled over on the way home. Because... #momjail.

This morning, after forcing myself out from under my covers, after more tears rolled down my cheeks at the thought of another day like the past several, my husband sent me back to bed with coffee and my Bible. I had to re-read this verse from Isaiah 40:11 over and over and over.

"He tends his flock like a shepherd; He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; He gently leads those that have young." Isaiah 40:11

Then I had to cross reference this verse with the story from Genesis 33:12-15 where Jacob had to firmly tell his overeager brother Esau that he would not be rushing his family through a journey that would ultimately bring them harm.

"Then Esau said, 'Let us be on our way; I'll accompany you.' But Jacob said to him, 'My lord knows that the children are tender and that I must care for the ewes and cows that are nursing their young. If they are driven hard just one day, all the animals will die. So let my lord go on ahead of his servant, while I move along slowly at the pace of the droves before me and that of the children, until I come to my lord in Seir.'"

This week has been a week of so much disappointment and discouragement. There have been a lot of canceled plans and saying, "No" to previously committed to engagements. I've had to let friends down who have been counting on me. I've disappointed both kids as we've been forced to stay huddled at home to rest and take it easy and heal.

If this has been a similar week for you, I hope you'll take heart not in my words, because truly I have none. I'm just that mentally spent. I hope you'll be encouraged by the words in Isaiah 40 and Genesis 33. These words of encouragement from a God who DOES see us daily, who cares for us and our momma hearts as we lay down our lives to be intentional in our mothering even on the really hard days, during the most difficult months and seasons.

These are words that I'll likely have to keep reading throughout seasons of motherhood similar to this one. The seasons where everything just seems heavy and the exhaustion seems endless. The ones with the bed bugs and the cacti and the puking. I know there will be more of these and harder ones too.

Today, I'm choosing to keep coming back to these words, to be gentle with myself as God is gentle with me. I'm choosing to show myself and my husband and the kids grace. I'm choosing to laugh at the really funny moments -- Like when one child is screaming, "IS IT TIME TO DIE?" ...And to also allow myself to cry in abundance and let the tears flow when those are so desperately needed.

I think one of the most difficult parts of being a writer is my desire to tie every story up in a neat little bow. Complete with words of encouragement and a happy ending.

But the truth is, I don't have much of that this week.

I have funny stories to share about bruised little legs with cactus spikes still lodged deep inside. I've got a car seat sitting by the side of my house that still needs to be hosed off. This morning, Hives Girl woke up with more red welts....but we still have no idea why. I'm 7 months pregnant and I am freaking out about bringing another baby into this chaotic mess of a family. I am completely exhausted and just feeling so incredibly discouraged.

But I'm choosing to believe that this is perfectly okay. Maybe life doesn't need to be wrapped up in a pretty bow. Maybe it's okay to sit in the messy and the mundane and to lift up my hands in complete surrender and to just trust that it's all going to be okay. That I'm being held by a God who is gentle with me and on the all the days that I'm struggling to do this life well, HE is leading our little family.

Three Isn't A Crowd: Raising our Daughters Well

2016-10-26T04:36:00.001-07:00

Earlier this fall I spoke to a room of 100 women on the topic of vulnerability and friendship. Vulnerability and friendship. Two words that I am quickly learning... Just. Don't. Go. Together.

After I spoke, I received feedback from nearly a dozen women ranging in age from 20 years to 50 years. Ironically enough, in spite of the age difference, I heard such similar things --

Things like,

"I thought it was just me!"

"I've been fighting these shame lies my whole life."

"I worry I'll never find those 2 am friendships."

"I've been convinced something is wrong with me."

Women in groves were sharing that my words had struck home and hit HARD. I heard from others that there were tissue boxes being passed around the room. So much emotion and so many tears. Embarrassingly, many of the tears came from me while on stage. I'm not kidding-- some sweet woman actually climbed on stage to hug me just so I could pull myself together.

I share all of this very humbly, because truly -- these words weren't mine. The lessons I've been learning on vulnerability and friendship have been years in the making and I still have so far to go. I share this because I'm realizing that it isn't just me. Surprise, surprise-- I'm not the only crazy one still trying to navigate this wild ride of women friendships.

Something powerful happened in the room the morning that I spoke and I just haven't been able to shake the pit in my stomach and the voices in my head. The ones that are SCREAMING that a dialogue needs to be started among women on HOW we fix our broken hearts.

Because I. AM. DONE. with the inner monologue I have with myself that perpetually goes something like this -- "Brittany, you aren't worthy of authentic friendship. You aren't good enough. Nobody wants you."

Sound at all familiar?

I'm done believing the lie that tells me that if "Three's a crowd.... then I am that crowd".

Are you ready to be done believing this lie too?

This week I received a phone call that reminded me of a blog post I wrote earlier this year entitled The words I'll Never Use In Friendship Again. Truly, it was probably writing this original post and hearing from so many of YOU that has gotten my thoughts rolling on this topic of friendship to begin with.

The phone call went something like this:

Mom Friend- "My daughter just came unglued. She says she plays alone at recess and eats lunch by herself. It's been happening most of the school year."

(I slyly glance at my seemingly innocent 7-year-old daughter out of the corner of my eye...)

Me- "Hmmm.... is that so?" I call to my daughter... "Sweetie...could you play with Layla at school tomorrow? Sounds like she's feeling pretty sad and left out."

My daughter- (who is now in complete hysterics -- SEE how emotionally driven this topic is?) cries to me, "Mom, I asked my other friends if we could play with Layla too and they said, "Sure, why don't you just break up with us?"

Holy hell.

What!?! These girls are SEVEN.

"Why don't you just break up with us?"

SEVEN YEARS OLD and these are the playground conversations they are having regarding friendship.

I wanted to die when I heard this.

And here's the thing -- let me be really clear...While, I am not at all naïve to the fallen sin nature of kids... I really and truly believe that their words and their inclusive attitudes are stemming from their own places of insecurity.

It goes like this:

Friend A loves Friend B.

Friend B wants to add in Friend C to create a little trio.

Friend A sees friend C as a threat to the duo so she says, "No way. I'll shame friend B so she doesn't leave me."

AND SO a cycle of loneliness and heartache is started at age SEVEN for friend C.

This cycle is one that will likely carry her through the awkward ages of junior high and high school, into the self discovery age of college and on into adulthood.

It is one that will likely find her in a room as a young mom with 100 other women, passing the kleenex boxes and wondering why she have never felt worthy of authentic friendship. Wondering why she still feels unlovable and wondering why she has felt like this for as far back as the playground days of elementary school.

And ironically, if you are still following me... Friend A and Friend B will likely end up in their own respective rooms of weepy women too.

My point is this... it starts YOUNG and it starts now.

What we are teaching our daughters about themselves and their goodness and their worthiness for true, authentic friendship matters.

What we are teaching our girls right now about kindness and speaking life into others -- it has meaning.

The way our daughters see US as adult women handling friendships -- it is shaping them.

It might mean (gasp!), removing inclusive words like "best friend" from our vocabulary and just deciding right now to teach our daughters that three is not a crowd. Not even four or five. We can teach our daughters that a village of friends and cheerleaders is the best way to get through life.

Something has got to change.

As mothers of daughters, it is going to have to start with healing our own insecurities, doing the hard work of healing our own wounds, while simultaneously teaching our daughters not to repeat the same dysfunctional patterns.

It's going to take a whole lot of prayer and continuing to seek God's heart for my own healing. It's a place I've seen so much growth in but I know I'm not done seeing the redemption take place in healing the shame lies that I've believed since I was a little girl. The lies that tell me I'm not good enough or that I'm not worthy of being loved by others.

It's going to take bravely dialoguing with other women -- other moms, on how we can teach our daughter's to be their authentic, amazing selves while still lifting their girl friends up in spite of unique differences and inevitable conflict that will happen throughout these formative years.

I am bound and determined to start this work because I desperately want to see healing and redemption among the sweet woman of my own generation. And, I want be a part of stopping this cycle of insecurity in my own daughter's generation. I can't just sit back and watch the patterns repeat themselves.

I don't want my own daughter to find herself next to your daughter in 25 years saying for the very first time, "Hey, you too!?". I'm convinced that if we start praying and intentionally battling now for the hearts of these sweet girls that there can be another way.

So, I guess the question is... who else is with me? ;)

The Playground Walk of Shame

2016-08-17T12:53:00.003-07:00

We've all done it. You're bold faced lying if you say you haven't. The Playground Walk of Shame. And if it hasn't been the playground per se, then it's been the Target Walk of Shame, The Chickfila Walk of Shame, the Dentist Office Walk of Shame. Yes, even the Church Pickup Walk of Shame.

Oh Mommas... Today I did it.

Nothing like a good old fashioned head down, plow your quickest way to the car with screaming child in tow to make you want to hightail it to the nearest empty parking to let those giant crocodile tears roll.

Your own.... not your kid's. They've done enough crying already.

You're probably thinking the child culprit was my three-year-old. Nope. Try the seven-year-old. Yeah... the one who is suppose to be sugar and spice and everything nice. Well, let me set the scene for you.

We've reached the point in our summer where everyone is D.O.N.E. I can't entertain one more day in this bloody heat. And my kids are looking at me like if I pull out one more board game they might just start chucking Monopoly houses at me. A slight exaggeration but if you are a parent of school age kids then you just "get it". And school doesn't start for ANOTHER. TWO. WEEKS. Lord, help me.

So this morning, in an effort to throw a game changer into the mix, I loaded us up and we headed to the local park. Upon arriving, my daughter immediately ran to the gymnastics bars. Her pretty pink dress flowing in the wind behind her....

Did you catch that? She had her heart set on doing the gymnastics bars in a DRESS.

One flip around the bars and I had to pull my Mean Mom Card. "Sorry sweet girl, you can't do the bars today. You're showing every boy your underwear." And really, can you blame me? As I'm watching all of this unfold, all I can hear in my head is that mean old song sung by playground bullies, "I see London... I see France..." A momma's gotta' protect.

Now, the back story to this whole saga that's about to go down is that my daughter believes whole-heartedly that SHE IS DESTINED for the Fab Five 2024 Olympic Gymnast Team. There is no talking her out of it. It's a done deal friends. We just have to first find her the best coach in the Mile High City and fork over all of our extra cash for the next eight years to get her there...

Every single spare moment of this girl's life is spent watching the Olympics, practicing her flips and landings, coercing her little brother into being her headstand judge.... #Thanksimone.

So, when it was realized that her dreams of Olympic stardom were suddenly crashing down around her -- all because of a park date planned poorly-- all hell broke loose. Seriously. It was like this girl had never spent a day hearing about Jesus in her life.

I was mortified. You see, maybe it's just me... but I think it's a tad more socially acceptable for toddlers to throw park tantrums. But when your school aged child starts to wail and flail, the judgmental momma looks... oh, they start flying.

What went on next was just plain embarrassing. A whole lot of hysterical whailing, some shouting and a few "Worst mom ever", daggers thrown my way. Ouch kid. Really? Worst mom ever? I realized pretty quickly that this was just not my battle to fight. It was either going to be me against the inappropriately dressed Aly Raisman wannabe or me against the momma in her perfectly crafted top knot and slim fitting, pink yoga pants. We were hightailing it home. FAST.

I arrived home and promptly inhaled an entire box of Kraft Mac N' Cheese. Yes. An entire box. I refuse to bear more shame. I plan to laugh about all of this here shortly.

To the Mommas who were with me at this popular Denver kid hangout this morning... I will not incriminate myself further by telling you which popular park this was. But I will say that I'm sorry you had to witness my messy motherhood on display for all to see this morning.

Today was further proof that some days I just need to be humbled and reminded that I don't have it all together. Nope. Not even seven years in. I'm joking friends... None of us will ever have it all together. Not even the kids that we expect to be perfect and Stepford like.

And to the Mommas who, just like me, did the Walk of Shame this morning.... somewhere, in another park or establishment, in another city, in another state or country....

Let's fist bump. Solidarity sisters. Somewhere out there, there's another momma who just annihilated a box of processed, chemical ridden Mac N' Cheese and needs to know that there's no shame in it because somehow it made her Playground Walk of Shame a little more redeemed.

You are a boss Momma.

Here's what you need to know and take away from this...

Today's Walk of Shame was merely just preparation for the smile and the encouragement that you are going to give to tomorrow's momma.

Because tomorrow, you'll be the one at the playground watching another momma do her Walk of Shame.

Tomorrow, you are going to smile at her. You are going to whisper a, "You're doing great!" You are going to make sure she knows that she is doing a good job. She didn't ask for the playground tantrum. And neither did you.

So, make it darn clear that she's a boss at this motherhood thing. Playground Walk of Shame and all.

Early Pregnancy News: Why We Share With Our Kids

2016-08-04T08:25:00.001-07:00

During a recent conversation with a newly expecting friend, I asked when she and her husband would tell their older children of the new pregnancy. She shared with me that because she remembers my experience of sharing my miscarriage with my oldest daughter, she and her husband would wait to tell their children.

I left that conversation wondering if my husband and I made the wrong decision in sharing about our pregnancies and losses with our older children. Was the weight too much for our (then toddlers) to grapple with in their developing minds? I've wrestled with this question quite a bit in recent months.

The decision to share about a new pregnancy with older children is not one that falls universally right for every family.

For my sweet friend and her husband, the decision to wait was absolutely the right one. Only they knew what their little ones could handle. Subsequently, sharing about the loss of a baby with older children is not something any parent wants to do.

I am confident after much thought, that for our little family, we have made the right decision. We share joyfully about our baby's new life, knowing full well that we risk sharing the sadness of loss as well. We share about our new pregnancy with our older children for these reasons:

1. Sharing about the life and loss of our babies opens up conversations about Heaven and Jesus.

After our first pregnancy loss, we inevitably had to answer some tough questions asked by our three year old daughter. Questions like, "Where is Heaven?" "Is our baby in Heaven?" "Will we meet our baby someday?" and, "How do I get to heaven?" These questions eventually lessened and our daughter began to speak confidently of Heaven. She would point to the evening sunset and tell us that our baby was watching over us. Our little girl is 7 now, four years removed from this first loss, and to this day she reminds us of this every time she sees a beautiful sunset.

After our second loss, our son asked similar questions. "Where is God?", "Is our baby with Him?" "Does God love us?" The loss of life within the walls of our home has opened up opportunity for us as parents to speak truth to our children. These questions are ones I likely wouldn't have addressed with my toddlers had we not lost our babies. Not for one second though do I regret that we had these conversations with them young.

2. Children are incredibly intuitive.

I don't know about your kids, but my kids can read me like a picture book. They can tell when I'm struggling. I realized early on into motherhood that I could try to mask any feelings of vulnerability and walk around like a puppet with a plastered on smile. Or, I could just be honest with them...because, I'm a person too. "Momma is having a bad day. You'll have to be patient with me."

Kids need to learn that it's okay for others to feel. And, it's okay that sometimes the world isn't centered around them. I also want my kids to grow up knowing that mom and dad are human beings, with really great days and really bad days. This gives them the emotional freedom to share on the days that they are struggling without shame.

On that note, after the loss of our babies we chose to be consistent. We wouldn't normally lie to our children about having a bad day so why would lie to them on some of our hardest days?

There are ways to share openly with your children about the really tough stuff of life without dragging them in feet first. Children don't need to know the gory, emotional details of losing a baby. But, you can choose to speak honestly by saying, "Mommy is feeling extra sad today. Yes, I'm still sad. Even though our baby is in heaven, Mommy still misses our baby and that's okay." "Yes sweetie, it's okay for you to miss our baby too. Would you like to do something today that will remind us of our baby?"

3. We would not downplay the integrity of our baby's life at a 20 week ultrasound gone poorly. So, why would we downplay the life of our 6 week old baby?

My husband and I believe that life begins at the moment of conception. Period. I understand that many families don't believe this or teach their children this. But we do. So, we've chosen to honor our baby's life by recognizing our baby as part of our family from the minute we know he or she exists. We don't pretend that this baby isn't alive until after we have confirmation of a heartbeat at 9 weeks or a healthy, properly growing baby at 20 weeks.

We realize that for every life that is created, there is the chance that something can go wrong. We are not promised a full term pregnancy with any of our babies. Just as we are not promised grown adults from the babies we bring home from the hospital. As parents, we want our older children to understand that the lives of their siblings are precious from day one, just like they also were and are.

4. Our babies' lives are part of the heritage of our family story.

If you ask my daughter how many members of our family there are, she will almost always tell you that there are six of us. I promise, I haven't coached her on this. On her own, she regularly reminds us that there are four of us in our home and two babies living in heaven. I can't tell you how proud as a momma this makes me. Our babies were intentionally created by God. While short -- the days of their lives were purposeful and thought out by the Creator. They were significant and loved. Our babies on earth and in heaven will always have a part in our family tree and we believe that it is important for our older children to know this too.

5. Our children take an active part in the hoping and praying for our future family.

Our older children know that adding to our family is a desire of ours. No, we have not had "the talk" with our 7-year-old. But, she does know that babies are a gift from God and that mommy and daddy pray regularly for her to be a big sister again. My husband and I speak openly with both of our children about our desire to grow our family.

Both of our big kids know that we do not control when we meet our next baby but they remain hopeful with us. When out in a store, our daughter will see a baby and express that she's excited to have another baby brother or sister. When meeting a friend's new baby, my husband and I share with our son that someday we know he would make an amazing big brother. These are dreams that we as a family have together. These are prayers we pray together and we remain hopeful that God will fulfill.

Every family is different. There are no easy answers as parents for how to handle something as tough as pregnancy loss. But for our family, for these five reasons, we are confident that we've made the right decision to share with our children about the life and loss of our babies.

#Squadgoals

2016-07-27T09:17:00.000-07:00

August is almost here! If you've followed along with our family's musings at all in the past then you might remember that last August we tried our very first no spend month!

We called it our No Spend August. This past January, we attempted another no spend month and we called it our New Year No Spend Challenge.

Our overarching #squadgoals during a no spend month are these:

No impulse spending
To purge excess of spending, household items, clothes, toys, books etc...
No eating out unless using a gift card (& be intentional not to go over the card amount)
Be creative and utilize resources ... for example: make a birthday gift if you forget to buy one ahead of time, borrow sugar from a neighbor if you run out prior to the end of the month... you get the idea)
Know your necessities and stick to them. Paying bills and filling your car with gas are necessities. Your mani/pedi however, can wait until September

In all honestly, our New Year No Spend challenge was a bit of a flop. We didn't plan well enough ahead of time in terms of food and groceries. And.... we bought a puppy.

... who is now a very large puppy.

But I digress...

We learned a few things during our New Year No Spend flop. We learned that first and foremost, you can't go into a no spend month without showing yourself grace.

The goal behind a no spend month is not to do it perfect. The goal is to embark on a family challenge -- to try as a family to live outside of our comfort zones, to get by with less and to discover fun, creative ways to do so!

So for this particular August we plan to tackle our #Squadgoals by doing the following:

We planned 10 dinner meals and bought double the ingredients. So 10 x 2 = 20 meals for the month of August with the goal of eating leftovers for lunches. Last night a friend graciously watched Mack & Levi so we went out for one last date night and we did some MAJOR grocery shopping. The idea behind doing our grocery shopping prior to August is that we are well planned and won't be making any sporadic Target trips that will have us leaving with a cart full of unbudgeted extras.

As a family, will spend the month purging extra-- whether that's through donating, recycling or selling on Facebook Yard Sale sites. If you haven't heard of these, search for one on Facebook for one in or near your city. Yard Sale sites are brilliant.

We will be resourceful. We will be hitting up the Denver splash pads instead of paying to go swimming. We will swap our garden produce for any food that we run out of. We've already got a swap going where we regularly trade our garden veggies for farm fresh eggs! Last summer we swapped for fresh dairy and locally made jam!

We will try our best not to waste. We know from trying this in the past that we tend to be low on food towards the end of the month. Because of this we will do our best to eat all of the leftovers and to go straight to our pantry when we are low on food instead of defaulting to an unplanned grocery store run.

We MAY do a mid month produce run to our local fruit market. We will go in with a list and we will stick STRICTLY to it. We've discovered that it is near impossible to do a no spend month without fresh fruit. Otherwise, our kids end up snacking on cookies and junk food from the pantry.

We will stay OUT OF TARGET. It's just a slippery slope friends. You walk in for butter and you end up with a cute mug and a cart full of dollar section finds to the tune of an extra $27.50. We're just going to say no to Target this month.

We will have fun! We try our best to include Mack and Levi and to make this a family adventure! We want our kids to realize that trying new, hard things can be exciting!

I will end by saying that in the past we have had several friends try this with us and they have done their own modified versions of a no spend month. There are no set rules. You get to make your own!

If you are intrigued and you don't know that you can do a whole month of no spending, then maybe just try it for two weeks.

Or, sit down as a family and write out a ways that you can embrace a no spend month without going so drastic. Figure out ways to cut spending from your budget. Plan to cut the excess and donate what you don't need. Take a look at your city's event calendar and try out some free events instead of spending money on family outings. The sky really is the limit.

We hope you'll follow along with us for the month of August!

#Squadgoals

To read about our how our other no spend challenges have gone you can check out these past posts:

New Year No Spend Recap, No Spend August Recap

Taking Off the Poker Face

2016-07-14T12:40:00.002-07:00

Recently my sweet friend Emily told a story on her blog about the moment she let her poker face slip with her two young boys. In the midst of a calm and relaxing afternoon, one of her sons dropped a spider into her lap. At eight months pregnant, Emily immediately jumped up from her chair and ran screaming. In that moment she "destroyed her calm, parenting face." I'm still giggling at the mental image of my friend running around her yard, baby belly in tow.

For several weeks now since reading her post, that phrase poker face has been rolling around in my head. This morning as I was lying in bed I suddenly had a small epiphany. I've been struggling to write for the past several months because I've been afraid to let my poker face slip.

We all have one. A poker face, that is. A blank expression that hides one's true feelings. Some would even go so far as to call it a resting bitch face ;)

Call it what it is, we all have some version of the poker face and we put it on when we're scared or feeling most vulnerable.

As little girls, we learned to nail that poker face right about the time we entered junior high -- as cliques of nail polish and lip gloss wearing girls began to form and boys began to notice or not notice us.

For me, my poker face has carried over into adulthood.  It gets plastered on the second I walk into a room full of pretty mommas with diaper bags and coffee tumblers.

Over time, this blog Little Mountain Momma has become the one of the only places that I can authentically shed my poker face and be raw honest about who I am. Perhaps it's easier for me to sit behind a computer screen and share my heart than it is to stand face to face with another woman and risk judgement or disapproval.

When I first began writing on this blog, I was beginning to heal from postpartum depression. We had just moved to Colorado. I didn't have any friends in our new city. The decision to write and share was like sticking my toes into a pool of cold water for the first time -- I was bravely hoping that the ripples I was creating would somehow lead to a connection with other women who were feeling the same way.

What I found was that those ripples turned into waves. As I began to share that I was hurting -- and just plain scared of this unchartered journey called motherhood, dozens of women began to speak up about their own journeys. Precious, brave women began to reach out and say, "Me too!"

The feeling was exhilarating and powerful. For the first time in my life I began to discover that I wasn't the only one desiring to be really seen and known!

One of my favorite authors Brene Brown writes in her book The Gifts of Imperfection, "Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make everyday. It's about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen."

It's that part about authenticity being a daily choice that's a real struggle for me. At times over the past five years of writing, it's been tempting to retreat back to the image of perfection and having it all together.

I find myself sharing so much of myself on my blog and social media platforms that I catch myself drawing back, wondering if I've become too authentic, too honest and raw. I wonder if at some point I've become an oversharer.

It's a balancing act as a writer to maintain a sense of privacy and dignity while also deeply desiring to connect with others authentically. The tough stuff like going through postpartum depression, losing babies to miscarriage and the disappointment of trying to get pregnant month after month. The seasons where my marriage is struggling and my friendships aren't thriving.

A few months back I published a post while on our family vacation to Florida. In this post I shared pictures of myself on the beach wearing a dress that was sent to me by the company Pink Blush as a way to promote their new Spring line.

The real story behind that post was that my husband and I argued all the way to the beach. We fought and the kids cried in the backseat. It was hardly my proudest moment as a wife and momma. I was so focused on honoring my commitment to Pink Blush to model their clothing, that I was willing to sacrifice our time as a family just to get the perfect inauthentic photos.

The truth is, my poker face was plastered on for that Pink Blush photo shoot. I felt like such a fraud in that moment. I was angry at my husband and I didn't even want to play with my babies at the beach. And this was a vacation we had been planning for over a year!

After apologies and amends were made with my family, I made the decision to step back from blogging and social media permanently until I could figure out a way to get back to doing it authentically and without my poker face on.

If you are a follower of my writing and (or) any of my social media pages, you may have noticed my absence. Or, maybe you haven't. In which case, surprise! I've been missing for a while ;)

Taking a break from writing and sharing on social media has meant a few things for me.

It has meant that I've actually seen my children. I've watched their faces while playing and my thoughts haven't revolved around taking their pictures to share with the world. We've taught and learned to ride a two wheeler, had family dinners, built a garden, gone hiking, taken trips, played in the sprinklers, had picnics. We've lived for a few months and I haven't felt the need to display our lives for all of our friends and acquaintances and yes, even perfect strangers to see.

It's been beautiful and refreshing.

Taking a break has meant making the decision to permanently turn down companies and sponsors. Free clothes are great. It's flattering to be contacted by companies who like my writing and want me to advertise for them. But, that's not why I began writing.  That lifestyle of blogging just isn't authentically me.

So, I'm back. I think ;) At least I hope to be.

I'm practicing taking off the poker face and I plan to slowly get back to writing and sharing my heart. Just minus the free clothes and sponsored posts. I find that I'm most alive when I'm making connections with other women through writing when it isn't forced and fake.  Perhaps, my most authentic self is that I'm an oversharer. And maybe that's okay. Maybe that's how Jesus uses me best.

Flourishing in Rest

2016-07-05T06:00:00.004-07:00

I wake to writhing pain in my lower back. I sit up to look at the clock. 10:15 pm. My husband is sleeping soundly next to me and our six-week-old baby is in her crib in the next room. I lean back on my pillow and begin to toss and turn, breathing through the pain as it worsens. A half hour goes by. I climb out of bed and stumble to the tiny, bathroom of our 500 square foot Chicago apartment.

The pain has moved from one side of my back and has taken over my abdomen in charley horse fashion. I clutch my stomach with one arm while trying to rub out the cramping with my free hand. I begin to gulp water only to vomit it immediately back up. After an hour I crawl back to our bedroom. “Babe. We have to go to the hospital. I am so sick.”

I don’t know who to call to watch our 6-week-old daughter but I’m able to remember a conversation had by a new friend from a few weeks prior. “I live right down the street. If you need anything, don’t hesitate.” I press the dial button and wake her up. “Lauren… It’s Brittany. I know this is a strange request but can you please come watch my baby?”

In the emergency room I describe my pain as a 10, while I continue to dive for the nearest trash baskets. My sweet husband holds my hair helplessly as we wait to be called back.

After a CT scan and some heavy drugs, I’m told that I have kidney stones and am severely dehydrated with multiple infections. They plan to admit me. In that moment, sweet relief washes over my whole body. I recall having the thought, “Thank you! Finally, I can sleep. I can rest!” My thoughts of relief in that moment should have been a wakeup call to my postpartum self. The first 6 weeks as a brand new momma had been incredibly rough and it was clearly taking its toll.

I didn’t share this thought with my husband until years later. At the time I was ashamed that I wanted to stay in the hospital rather than care for my newborn daughter.

I share this memory to make a point -- often as mommas, we take on the role of martyr before we are willing to accept that we desperately need rest and self-care. It took kidney stones and a forced hospital stay before finally waving my white flag of surrender.

I wish I could say that in the seven years since becoming a momma, I’ve learned my lesson on caring for myself. I wish I could share that I’ve mastered this “rest thing” and that I’m the poster girl for how it’s done well and balanced.

But the truth is, I’m still awful at it. On a daily basis I am physically tired and emotionally burned out from never getting it “right.”

You see, I can’t remember the last time I “slept in.” I was blessed (ha!) with two early risers who are up with the sun most days. The second their little feet hit the floor, my toddler demands a “snack” (also known in most American homes as breakfast). I pack lunches, get kiddos dressed, drive to and from school. During nap time I list on EBay and package shipments because that’s how I get to be a stay at home momma. Except, I’m really not because twice a week I work outside of the home for a sweet little elderly woman who needs some extra help. And then there’s school pickup, homework, dinner, bath, and bedtime stories.

Does this sound familiar to any of you mommas? How in the world would one even find time for rest and self-care? In theory, this idea of rest sounds nice. But in the real world, rest gets pushed to the back burner of my priority list.

Last month I took a long weekend off from caring for my own family to fly out to visit a close friend Pam, in North Carolina. Now, Pam has two children under three years old and a husband who works long hours. I knew when booking my plane ticket that I would likely be stepping in to help wrangle toddler chaos. I also assumed that I would be sleeping on her living room couch. I was perfectly okay with this. I resigned myself to write “rest” off of my personal agenda for the weekend and to just enjoy the much needed time with my friend.

Upon arriving to her home, Pam showed me upstairs to a beautiful, newly remodeled guest room with a large bathroom and a king sized bed. The view from the room overlooked the breathtaking countryside of the North Carolina Mountain Foothills.

If only you could have seen my face the very moment I realized that this would in fact be a weekend of rest. It was like the relief I felt from that night back in the emergency room.

The next morning Pam brought coffee to my room and I was able to drink it in blissful silence. In the evenings I went running with no jogging stroller or children begging to get out of the mobile prison (as I’m sure this is how my children feel about my jogging stroller at this point).

During nap times, Pam and I had a chance to sit for hours and talk. During these hours I poured out painful details of the past year while my friend listened and offered wisdom.

This past year in particular has been anything but restful. After our second miscarriage in September I took up the task of “fixing” myself. I’ve poured my blood, sweat and tears into charting temperatures, tracking hormones, timing sex perfectly and doing naked headstands. You’re welcome, for that mental image. I’ve watched dozens of women around me celebrate as they enter seasons of pregnancy and new motherhood while I’ve sat on the sidelines licking my wounds and wondering when God decided I was old news.

Since September we’ve heard a dozen devotionals and messages at our MOPS Bible Study meetings centered around flourishing in our present seasons and celebrating lavishly. My confession to Pam that weekend (and my confession to you today) is this: I have hardly felt the flourishing and I have done anything but celebrate this year. In my deepest core I have felt like a scam. I have felt beat up, angry and downright exhausted.

There has been no rest because I wouldn’t have it.

Resting would mean surrendering my agenda and my control to the God who failed me last September. Resting would mean choosing to accept that my season of current heartache and brokenness was part of God’s plan. Why would God choose me to go through heartache I’ve been forced to watch so many women celebrate lavishly?

As I sat with Pam (who at the time was 4 weeks pregnant… God has a sense of humor, right?), Pam said to me, “Brittany, every single thing that God does is intentional. It is no coincidence that you lost your baby while four women in your discussion group are now pregnant. That is no accident. That’s how he sanctifies you! That is how He has chosen to sanctify these mommas! God chose a season of mourning to sanctify you and to make you more like Him.”

Thank you Lord…. I think?

Pam’s words sunk deep. It was as though a well of water was suddenly released over my dry and parched heart the moment I chose to listen and take hold of this truth.

There are no accidents. Every single detail of our lives are intentional and for the purpose of our sanctification. The seasons of celebrating lavishly and the seasons of heartache and mourning.

Maybe you’ve been in a similar season? Maybe, you’ve shown up to Bible study this year and have sat bitterly fighting back tears as women around you have flourished. As they’ve shared joyful news of new babies and of thriving marriages.

Perhaps, you too have left wondering, “How, God? How do I celebrate with them when I’m just so sad?”

While I don’t know each of you individually, I would be willing to bet that I’m not the only momma who has battled these thoughts this year.

The unexpected gift that I received during my weekend at Pam’s house was rest.

I left feeling more alive and more filled up in than I have in a long time. I left with a deep sense that God is asking me to move with Him into a new season; a season of healing and restoration. As my friend Nicole shared in our Bible study devotional recently, often it is the unearthing and the pruning of the soil of our hearts that must come before the flourishing. God is teaching me that in HIS strength I must learn to celebrate lavishly with women who are in seasons of joy, even when I’m not feeling joyful.

It took a weekend of silencing the noise around me, of accepting rest as a good and necessary practice, for God to bring me into a new season of surrender and healing.

I don’t know what’s in store for the future of our family.

But this I do know – God loves me (and you!) deeply and fiercely. He has not forgotten about us. On the most painful days of this sanctifying journey, He is present. Perhaps, in these particular seasons of pain and heartache, He does His best work when we rest into him. When we surrender our weary bodies into the arms of a Father who hurts with us and wants to bring beauty from the ashes. When we are still and silent and finally ready to listen.

Jesus says in Mathew 11:28, “Come to me all who are weary and I will give you rest.” I humbly confess that I’ve never loved this verse. It’s always felt much easier said than done. Come to Jesus and He will give rest? Does Jesus really understand my life as a momma? The early mornings and the sleepless nights and the "going, going, going" that is in the in between?

I think I finally get it though. It is through the surrender of our busyness and constant attempts to control life that we finally give way to rest. It is how we open ourselves up to true healing and it is only then that the sanctification can take place. It is through the discipline and cultivation of rest that we discover how to truly flourish and celebrate lavishly.

Still That Girl

2016-03-03T08:32:00.000-08:00

You hear that becoming a momma is the most beautiful thing. You hear of the ways your babies will reach right and grab your heart and never let go. And every bit of it is the truth. I wouldn't trade this momma role for a single second.

But good heavens, there have been days and even months over the past seven years of this journey that I have wished that girl back.

You know, that girl I'm talking about. That girl that I was before my body was changed and reshaped by this beautiful thing called motherhood. Because, while motherhood itself is such a beautiful thing... I haven't often felt like my body has fallen in line with that beauty.

There have many, many days that I have been downright embarrassed by the new me. I've been ashamed of the curves and the extra pillows of skin that have formed along my hips and tummy. The tired eyes that I often see in the mirror make me wistful for that girl that once felt full of energy and restful nights.

If I'm really being honest, the past six months in particular have been really hard on me physically. I've battled depression and I've gained some extra weight. I'm embarrassed just to admit that, but in keeping with the consistency and the honesty of what I desire for my writing to be, I feel like I need to share for any other women who have been in this same place.

When Pink Blush contacted me to review some of their clothing, I was like a little girl on Christmas morning! I absolutely LOVE the Pink Blush women's line and I was so excited to shop for our upcoming family vacation. What I wasn't thrilled about was shopping for the body I've been trying so hard to cover over the winter months.

I chose this Navy Colorblock Maxi Dress and am absolutely thrilled with the fit. I'm only 5'1 but this maxi dress is 55" from shoulder to bottom hem and is the perfect length to pair with some heeled shoes.

I also love that the neckline is modest and fits snug so that I'm not revealing too much skin. Because I'm smaller busted I'm always a little more insecure about how tops and dresses fit me. I often find that clothes fit looser and are less flattering for smaller frames.

This maxi dress allows for the perfect balance of modesty while also making me feel beautiful.

This Pink Blush Colorblock Maxi Dress also comes in black, aqua, grey & taupe. Right now it can be purchased through their site for $46 + Free Shipping. And if you signup for the Pink Blush email list you'll get an extra 15 % off your first purchase.

Our family enjoyed an evening out to dinner in the Florida sunshine. Jeremy's top is from Old Navy. Mack & Levi are both sporting the current Target spring line.

I chose this Pink and White Tribal Print Dress for our family trip to the beach. For a cool night, this was the perfect dress to keep my arms covered while also allowing me to dip my feet into the ocean.

The bow on this dress is just perfect.

This particular dress is no longer in stock but Pink Blush has so many cute tribal prints available this season! I've been eyeing this adorable Tribal Print Dressing Robe for $41!

Motherhood hasn't lessened my beauty. In fact, it's added to it. The curves and extra weight remind me of pregnancy and how my body nourished life for 10 long months. The tired eyes are a reminder of the 2 am cuddles with my baby who is growing up all too quickly.

Slipping on my Pink Blush clothing reminded me that I am still that girl. I'm still the girl who deserves to feel beautiful when I look into the mirror. I'm still that girl who loves to get dressed up and go out with my girl friends on a Friday night!

And YOU deserve it too. You are still that girl. You deserve to feel beautiful because you are beautiful. Which is why today through Tuesday, March 8th at 12 am MST, Pink Blush is giving away a $50 gift card to one of you lovely mommas.

All you have to do is enter below! I can't wait to find out which of you is going to get to go shopping! And also, a side note -- If you aren't the winner of this giveaway, right now Pink Blush is offering an additional 50 % off of their clearance section so there are some really great deals right now!

*Disclosure -- this is a compensated post. I was sent free product by the company Pink Blush but all opinions are my own.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Words I'll Never Use In Friendship Again

2016-02-10T14:48:00.000-08:00

I don't love the phrase best friend.

I loathe it actually. And not just the phrase best friend but really, any words that associate with it.

Bestie. BFF. Best Mate. Sista' From Another Mista'. I want to do away with them all.

Now, before you begin to pelt your computer screen with all of the pink and red Valentine's M & M's that you've been hoarding for your toddler's nap time, please just hear me out.

Last year my daughter started Kindergarten. Now, for anyone who has ever met Mack, you know that the girl is special. And not like, eat paste, type special. Mackenzie loves people. She's got a huge heart and she's uniquely compassionate for a 6-year-old.

At Mackenzie's Kindergarten orientation she met a little girl who I'll call Olivia. Now, Olivia was a flippin' mess that night -- crying big, ugly tears. We encouraged Mackenzie to make a new friend. We coaxed her to talk Olivia and to tell her that it was okay to be a little scared.

Three days later, Mackenzie and Olivia walked into school hand in hand for their first day of Kindergarten. Not a tear in sight. It was one of my proudest momma moments to date. In Mackenzie's mind, that moment sealed the deal for something special. Olivia was it. Her very best friend. And there wasn't a darn thing you were going to say to change her mind.

That was September. By October the drama had begun. Mackenzie would come home from school in tears every other day with stories of how Olivia would say she was her best friend but then refuse to sit with her at lunch. Or, Olivia would play with her at recess but then brag about having another friend over for a playdate. Every day it was something new.

Now, please hear me -- I don't for one second believe my daughter is perfect. We have had our fair share of conversations about how to treat our friends right. Mackenzie is still learning, as am I.

What finally did it for me was the day that Mackenzie climbed into the car after school and through crocodile tears she asked, "Momma, why doesn't she love me? She was suppose to be my best friend." My momma heart just broke into a thousand pieces. My girl. My beautiful, funny, smart, kind and compassionate girl, was questioning her value and worth as a friend.

The phrase Best Friend is a powerful one. There's a whole lot of weight packed into two small words.

To the person you are calling your best friend, there's a lot of pressure to live up to the meaning. To be the best. The one who won't let down and won't hurt you. The one who will have your back no matter what. The one who is better than all other friends.

For your friends who haven't attained best friend status, these words are a breeding ground for insecurity and for not feeling good enough. To know there's a best friend card on the table but that you haven't quite earned it. Good heavens, ouch!

Earlier this year I attended an event with a group of friends. It was a fantastic weekend complete with one of those photo props that came with the goofy hats and feather boas for posing. Two friends in particular claimed bestie status from the start of the event. And to be frankly honest, they made the picture taking part of the weekend incredibly awkward. What was suppose to be fun and carefree turned into an exclusivity party.

While I stood back with several newer friends, these two girls repeatedly asked others to take their picture while they did the whole, "Say cheese!" thing. Only, they replaced "cheese" with "bestie".

So, "Say Bestie!" Weird, I know.

That was the weekend I decided that I will officially never use the phrase best friends again. And as a momma, I will encourage my daughter to steer clear from this phrase as well in her friendships.

Now, I would be bold faced lying if I said that all friendships are equal. Not all friendships are equal. There, I said it. I just don't quite understand the benefit of shouting friendship inequality from the rooftops.

Sometimes within a friendship, it's okay to sense a special connection with someone and for it to remain a secret, silent one. It's okay to exchange knowing smiles and to have a mutual understanding that you've got something different and special. I have a few of these friendships and I'm thankful for them.

What's not okay is to use those special friendships to make other others feel less than.

My greatest desire is for the women I do life with to leave my presence feeling loved, encouraged and empowered. As a momma, I hope that I can teach my daughter that friendship is a gift and to treat it as such. I desire for her to grow, knowing that while not all friendships are equal -- all friendships do have value and are worthy of respect and great care.

I propose that one of the best ways to care for the heart of a friend is to make sure that she never has to question her status on your friendship podium or have to wonder whether she would be picked last for your friend dodge ball team. She should just know in her heart that she's got a place on the stand and a spot on the team.

To all of my girlfriends out there, you should know that you don't need a best, bestie or BFF attached to your name. Each of you has uniquely added to my life in some way, shape and form. I am blessed by you and I value your friendship for the uniqueness that you bring to my life and not because you do it better or worse than any other friend. You are incredibly loved.

That's a Wrap!

2016-02-02T19:44:00.002-08:00

For those of you who have been faithfully following along over the past month, you know that our family ventured into the New Year with a #Newyearnospend challenge. And good heavens, what a challenge this was. I'll keep this post short & sweet with 5 things I'm taking away from this January No Spend attempt.

1. Plan Ahead

For our No Spend August last summer did a lot of intentional pre-planning. We created a month long meal plan and we did our grocery shopping prior to the end of July. I won't lie, it was a lot of work but it was what made our month a success.

THIS time around, we were coming right off of the holidays and a Christmas trip home to see family. We returned to real life with good intentions but truthfully, we were 3 steps behind. The first two weeks of January were spent limping to the start line of the #Newyearnospend challenge.

My advice to anyone who would like to try a No Spend Month in the future - Be intentional about your meal planning. Plan two weeks at a time and do a STRICT mid month run for the second half of the month.

2. Know Your Weaknesses

You are like a toxic boyfriend that I continue to swoon over. And really, your dollar spot section makes me want to become a hoarder. Stepping into your store during a No Spend Month is my biggest weakness. I'm sorry, but we're heading for Splitsville...

No, but seriously. A No Spend Month is all about knowing your weaknesses and making good choices. A good choice for me is to just stay far away from Target. You'll realize early on into your No Spend challenge that you'll have certain weaknesses. Mine just happens to be the giant red bulls eye located at every 10th stop light.
Lord, help me.

3. Will Cave for Puppies

Okay. So we bought a puppy. A really cute, fairly well behaved puppy. Does that make it an appropriate exception? Ehhh, maybe...maybe not. Now, in our defense, she wasn't entirely an impulse purchase (which as stated in the rules, was not allowed). We've been looking for a black lab puppy for quite a while now and when we heard of a litter being practically given away, we just couldn't pass her up. Of course, along with a puppy comes lots of new puppy expenses. So there's that.

Truthfully, we don't regret for one second adding Boston to our family. She was a great investment and she's been the perfect addition to the Mack & Levi duo... now make that a trio! Sometimes, you have to go with your gut and know when spending money is okay. This time, we just knew it was right. I'm so glad we chose to go with our hearts over saving a little bit of money.

4. Make New Friends but Keep the Old

So, I'll admit, we didn't do so great at our #newyearnospend challenge. With that said, THIS time around, the challenge was done with friends. And that part, was a blast! As it turns out, doing hard things can be really fun when you've got a group of girlfriends who have your back!

Along with my friends Emily, Adriane and Rebekah, we made a new friend Fiona. Fiona lives in the UK and she uses adorable phrases like "merry wanderings" (take a walk) and "donning our wellingtons". Now truly, I had to look up wellingtons in the dictionary -- a fun British word for rain boots!

Oh, and we have similar tastes in scarves so that seals the deal for our long distance, frugal friendship. So happy to have met you on this adventure Fiona!

5. Grace, All the Cool Girls Are Doing It

And finally, but certainly not last, grace. In Adriane's words, "All the cool girls are doing it." Just saying the word grace relieves a whole lot of pressure off of the back of a girl who just didn't do it perfectly this time.

Grace is the ability to show kindness and forgiveness to myself when I fall flat on my face. Which is basically what I did this month. Seriously, my girlfriends should be pulling me out of a figurative mud pit right now.

I went into our #newyearnospend challenge with such great hopes and intentions. The beauty of doing this challenge with such wonderful friends was that I had a constant cheering section rooting me on, reminding me that I didn't have to do it perfectly.

We will do another No Spend Month down the road and I'll have new goals but without a doubt, grace will continue to remain one of the expectations.

I'm so happy you followed along!

For a look back at my August No Spend Month check out these past posts -- No Spend August, National S'mores Day and Happy September.

A Letter to my Little & Mighty

2016-01-27T12:53:00.000-08:00

Mack and Levi, YOU are my Little & Mighty.

You've been coloring my world with laughter and joy, tears and tantrums for 7 years. Oh, what a life you have given me. What an adventure! I could not be more grateful!

A few weeks ago I had the brilliant (ha!) idea to take a family trip to the mountains for a mini snowstorm photo shoot. You would have thought I had learned my lesson during the Christmas card fiasco of 2015. Or perhaps the tree cutting down saga that nearly sent you, Levi, to the home for inconsolable toddlers.

Nope, it took just one more lesson for this momma before I realized -- we are summer people.

We are warm weather picture taking people. We grit our teeth and make lots of unflattering noises during winter photo shoots. It's balmy weather photo shoots from here on out Baker babes!

On this photo shoot day ... It. Was. Freezing. There was lots of begging, pleading and bribing involved. Nothing like a good cold photo shoot to bring out the mighty in the two of you!

But oh, you're both just so darn cute in your winter gear and your Little & Mighty apparel.

Yes, even when you're screaming Levi.

Pretty girl, you may be little oh you have so much might in you! Your smile and joy for life radiates through our home. You have the energy of one thousand 6-year-olds and good heavens, you wear your momma out. What a gift you are! You are going to change the world with your big heart and your old soul Mackenzie Leigh.

Little man, some words to describe you are strong willed, funny, charismatic and adventurous. I was so scared to raise a boy! Petrified actually! You have replaced those fears with excitement and anticipation. This Little & Mighty long sleeve t-shirt could not look better on any other boy. I can not wait to see what this year holds for you Levi Kyler!

As it turns out, you're both much more photogenic when you're warm and have a sugar laced drink in your hands. Who knew?

Cheers to a new year of laughter and seeing the world through your eyes. I can't wait to adventure through 2016 with the two of you. I love you my little mountain babes!

Love, Momma

** Little & Mighty is an adventure inspired children's apparel line that I absolutely adore.

Little & Mighty strives to design children's clothing that inspires adventure. Their mission is to "encourage Littles to explore and marvel at the great big world around them, and by doing so, to discover their own Mighty abilities."

Right now through Thursday, February 4th use the coupon code LITTLEMOUNTAINMOMMA for free shipping on any purchase. Also, stop by Tuesdays with Jacob for a chance to win a $20 store credit to Little & Mighty!

Learning to Flourish in Sorrow

2016-01-22T12:42:00.000-08:00

To flourish in sorrow is a bit of an odd paradox.

To flourish means “To grow or develop in a healthy vigorous way, especially as the result of a particularly favorable environment” (Webster’s Dictionary). To flourish sounds lovely and sweet. I think of my wedding day and walking down the aisle in white towards the boy I had loved since thirteen. To flourish evokes images of a warm sun and my yellow haired daughter twirling in a sea of brightly colored wild flowers. Flourishing reminds me of my son meeting the ocean for the first time, his squeals of delight as the waves crash cold upon his toes.

The word sorrow makes me wince. It is painful to write.

Each of us can recall moments or seasons of sorrow in our lives. The first experience of saying goodbye to a pet. The news that your parent’s marriage is crumbling. The phone call to let you know of the tragic passing of a friend. The medical test results that came back far worse than you ever imagined. The SOLD sign on your family home after months of failed attempts to climb out of the debt pit.

It goes against everything innately in us to associate sorrow with flourishing

And yet, I find myself currently in a season of such. A season of flourishing in sorrow.

And it is both bitter and sweet. It has been a season of tears that seem to flow like milk and honey. A season of grief and heartache and days so dark that I haven’t wanted to get out of bed.

At the same time, this season of walking through grief has been oddly beautiful.

And, dare I say – Holy.

I’ve spent the past 5 months mourning the loss of a second baby to miscarriage and riding the emotional roller coaster of trying to grow our family. For any of you who has ever lost a baby and (or) have spent time trying to get pregnant – I’m sure you can remember how emotionally charged this season is. It is a season accompanied by sadness, disappointment, frustration and bitterness.

A few weeks ago, after a particularly rough morning, a friend said to me, “I don’t think getting pregnant again is going to fix anything for you.”

Her words stung. But she was right.

The truth is, often times when we are faced with pain, grief and sorrow, the temptation is to seek out the shortcut that will take us to the next season of joy as quickly as possible.

Perhaps it's time we give ourselves permission to sit in the tension of grief for a while. To press into it even. To allow ourselves to rest and just be. To be sad. To be angry. To mourn the dreams that have been lost. I believe that allowing ourselves the ability to grieve with no timeline is ultimately what God uses to grow and change us.

To be pregnant right now would without a doubt bring joy. But I believe the joy of new life would overshadow the growth and the stirring in my soul that God has been doing since September. I am not the same girl I was last summer. There's new depth and an understanding of suffering and pain that I can't say I had fully grasped before. And the ability to walk with others in their suffering and to truly understand pain is a gift. Suffering alongside others is no small thing and I am humbled that God would teach me to how to do so.

Fellow MOPS momma Ashley Lande writes in the latest issue of Hello Dearest magazine, “Noticing goodness means a surrender, a yielding to the new vision that eclipses old, cataracted sight.”

I believe God has been giving me new sight. He's been giving me the gift of epiphany moments in which I am given glimpses of the redemption He is doing through this season of my pain. And when I’m really looking with wide eyes, when I stand with open hands, willing to receive all that He has for me, I am able to see the flourishing in the sorrow. I am noticing goodness and glimmers of hope in the midst of my brokenness.

I have noticed flourishing in many aspects of my life -- in my marriage, my parenting and my friendships. But most poignantly in the way He has allowed my heart and ministry for other mommas to flourish.

After our loss, I did the only thing I know to do best. I poured my grief onto paper. I held nothing back because I believe words have power and they heal people. And I knew that writing about my sorrow would mean something to another momma going through the loss of a baby. I watched in awe as God took those words and shared them with thousands of women who were also hurting. All I could do was acknowledge the flourishing that was being cultivated in spite of my brokenness and my sorrow. All I could say was “Thank You, Jesus."

After my blog post "Shattering The Silence" was shared, I was contacted by a non profit organization called Hope Mommies. Hope Mommies walks along side grieving mommas who have suffered the loss of a baby through miscarriage, birth defects, still birth and SIDS. I was able to share more of my story and after reading some of my past posts, I was asked to join Hope Mommies as a writer for their organization to create Bible studies and book reviews for grieving mommas.

I share these things not for any glory of my own. Because really, I did nothing spectacular. I simply shared words from my heart. It is not lost on me that, had I not experienced this miscarriage, I would not be writing and speaking truth over thousands of women who are also hurting. God has been doing what He does best -- He is bringing beauty from ashes.

In the winter issue of Hello Dearest Magazine, Ashley Lande shares in her essay "New Eyes", “Noticing goodness in another, and in ourselves, doesn’t mean negating or glossing over our brokenness. It doesn’t mean calling the brokenness good. It means lamenting that it can be redeemed. It means to look toward the light without pretending the dark isn’t there. It means recognizing the beauty that could be within the beauty that is.”

If I'm really being honest, as I look back on the past 5 months, I don't think of this season with negativity. Truly, I am more in awe than anything. I am in awe of a God who would use me as a vessel for redemption. I am in awe of how the enemy meant for brokenness and sorrow to cripple me -- but God has empowered me and made me brave.

With that in mind, I have had this thought --

What if perhaps, this life isn’t about me? What if it never really has been about me? What if I am simply a vessel and every season of joy, every season of sorrow is really meant to point others towards Jesus? What if, in my most broken places, I were to acknowledge that redemption is what’s at stake – for the heart's of others who are daily crossing my path.

Perhaps it takes walking through the valley of the shadow of death for real life to begin -- for holy flourishing to take place. While I grieve the loss of both of my babies daily, I am certain the flourishing that has taken place has brought great glory to God. And for that, I am so incredibly grateful.

My eternal perspective has also flourished. I have daydreamed on many occasions what it will be like for me the day I will finally hold my two babies, kiss them and tell them how much they were missed. But more than that, my longing for Jesus has flourished. My longing to see redemption and pain disappear from this world, for all things to be made new has flourished. I am learning to grieve with hope for a future that is far more fulfilling than this life.

In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith — more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire — may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Pet. 1:6–8)

5 Things Things My Son's Life Threatening Food Allergies Have Taught Me About Motherhood

2016-01-13T21:05:00.001-08:00

They say that motherhood changes you. I don't know that any of us really quite understand just how much until we are given the role of "Momma". From the second we see those two pink lines, we are different. No longer are we responsible for the health and well being of one precious human life -- but now two (or more)! It is a privilege and an honor to raise tiny humans.

We take care, making sure that our babies are healthy and strong from the second we find out we are carrying them. We cut back on caffeine, we stop drinking wine -- (that's a big deal, friends). We swallow ginormous prenatal vitamins to make sure that our babies are getting all that they need as they grow beneath our hearts. Once they arrive, we do everything possible to make sure they are safe. We wash tiny baby clothes in expensive, dye free detergent, we check the labels on the soaps we use in their baths, we debate -- to vaccine or not to vaccine, we buy organic and are certain that we're feeding them the very best.

So what happens when we are forced to face the unthinkable? The food we have been feeding our children has actually been harming them. That it could kill them.

For years my husband and I watched our daughter writhe in pain from the food she was eating. For three long years we questioned what we were doing wrong. And then one day we finally, thankfully, got answers. You can read Mackenzie's story here.

Today, I am honored to introduce you to my friend Lindsey. This past year, Lindsey discovered that her youngest son Bowan has life threatening food allergies. I have watched Lindsey as she has had to reconfigure what motherhood looks like for her in light of this revelation. Lindsey is strong and brave and she is an amazing momma. She is the best momma for Bowan, even on the scary, hard days. Today she shares the 5 things she has learned since Bowan's diagnoses.

When my youngest son, Bowan was diagnosed with multiple anaphylactic food allergies, it changed me. it broke me. It impacted me in a way that not many things have or probably ever will. But, in the pain I’ve also found good. Managing my son’s life threatening food allergies has taught me a lot about motherhood + for that I am thankful.

1. Motherhood is hard.

Before Bowan’s food allergies were diagnosed, I would think, why is motherhood so hard? What am I doing wrong to make my motherhood experience so difficult? Now, I’ve just accepted that motherhood is hard. Anything worth doing is worth doing well. I want to love my kids well. With the added pressure + responsibility all that goes into my son’s allergies - research of how foods are processed, keeping my toddler out of reach from his allergens at all times + the understanding of an action plan if anaphalyxis occurs. With this acceptance has also come the surrender of my previous conception of motherhood. To now knowing that motherhood just plain includes hard times.

2. Motherhood is joyful.

There is so much joy to be found in motherhood. The tiny voices, the soft sweet skin, the crazy + creative ideas they come up with, the sibling bonds. It’s all beautiful. It can be hard at tamest believe that joy is everywhere in motherhood. But, it is. The joy is in the big + small moments. Joy is found in watching my oldest son practice using the Epi Pen trainer. I absolutely wish the food allergies didn’t have to be part of our life. But, they are. It brings me joy to see my oldest son, Breck take responsibility + care deeply for his little brother.

3. To just be.

Motherhood has taught me to just be. Be in the here + now. Be in the what is. I’ve learned to not wish away my present circumstance. This is so hard + it takes time + commitment to be accepting of what is. I can often struggle with this. But, I can’t wish Bowan’s food allergies away. And, if I get stuck + start wishing them away, it does nothing other than make my present experience darker. His allergies are a reality of my life + it is my responsibility to be vigilant + care for his special needs that his allergies require. I’m just learning to be the best I can be in the current circumstances.

4. To listen to my gut.

When Bowan was first diagnosed with anaphylactic allergies to peanut + egg, my gut said, he must have more allergies. I already knew that allergic kids typically have multiple allergies. I thought, I know he has more. That’s why he’s refused so much of the food I’ve tried to feed him. That’s why he throws food across the kitchen. To our first skin testing appointment, I brought a list of suspected foods that I wanted him tested for. The allergist said, I only have 1% of my patients allergic to many of these foods.I thought, that 1% of your patients are still people + they are someone’s kids. And, just because the allergies are more “rare” doesn’t mean they don’t exist. They still impact people. My voice inside wouldn’t quiet. I knew I needed to do something. I knew my gut feelings were there for a reason, even though I didn’t want to believe them. I found a new allergist that would listen to me + confirmed my gut feelings were right. The more I listen to my gut, my own voice, the clear that voice is.

5. We can be strong.

When Bowan’s allergies were first diagnosed, I didn’t want to be strong. I didn’t want to find the strength to accept that my son can die from a tiny amount of peanut. But, an experienced allergy mom gave me incredible advice that helped me change my perspective. She said, Lindsey, you have to be strong. You can’t be afraid of giving Bowan the Epi Pen. I know it’s terrifying to put a large needle in your son’s leg during an emergency. One day you’re going to need to do this. And, when you do, you will save Bowan’s life. You can do it. With each day, with each success + failure + difficult experience + beautiful experience, I find my strength. I try to build on it. Most importantly, I try to remember it’s always there. Things that are hard are meant to change us. They are meant to make us grow. Through the difficult times in motherhood we can find our strength. In our strength we can do great things.

Lindsey Lee is a Michigan farm girl at heart, turned Colorado mountain mom of boys. She has more toy garbage trucks in her house that you ever knew existed. She loves skiing and hiking with her husband, Andrew + two boys, Breck + Bowan. She's a yogi that's learned she needs to get on her mat + get upside down to be the best mom + woman she can be. Lindsey is embracing the fact that she is a creative at heart + loving it. Lindsey's two sons are healthy + strong + so lovable. Her youngest son has multiple life threatening food allergies. Lindsey is a food allergy + health advocate.

Say hi on Instagram @lindseyleeleigh to see the new adventures of Breck + Bowan and to also hear some of Lindsey's authentic motherhood experiences. Follow @lindseyleeandco for allergy friendly ideas + healthy recipes for your whole family. Lindsey blogs at Lindsey Lee & Co.