After Ten Years, A Podcast

I can't believe its been ten years. 

But I look around me and the signs are there. Four loud, sweet, messy, healthy boys are running through the halls of our home with their shirts off playing tackle football... inside. We painted Christmas ornaments just this week and the boys knew to make an "H" ornament for their big sister Hannah even though they never got to meet her. They're old enough to remember her story and old enough to know how to write the letter H. Years surely have passed.

And this year, I have a little something for you as we approach Hannah's tenth birthday. 

If you're new here, ten years ago my husband Kyle and I were expecting our first baby. Before she was born, she died. In the throws of grief I felt the need to write about everything that had happened, everything the Lord was doing, and everything I was feeling. I took to this little hobby blog as so many of us had back then and I started publishing what I was writing. Then it was my way to tell her story, our story, and to answer the question everyone was asking, “how can you go on?” The response to our story was incredible, I think the authenticity of my writing spoke to pregnancy loss in a way many had not heard before. I believe the Lord was able to use my words to convey what hope looked like in an impossible circumstance. 

The years have gone by and I’ve learned and grown a lot. But the words I wrote continue to minister to people in the wake of their own loss. Friends and family continue to ask for the link to share our story when those near to them experience loss. Dear friends who grieved with us ten years ago, have found their way back to the blog posts after experiencing their own loss, saying that those words they'd read so long ago now resonated in their hearts again.

So for Hannah’s tenth birthday, here they are. The written words from blog posts now in audio form, in my own voice. Hoping that they may be more easily shareable as the technology of the world changes. Praying that they still may provide true comfort to those who experience loss and provide an inside look into loss for their loved ones. 

If you'd like to listen along you can find the recorded stories as a podcast on Apple Podcasts. The show is called A Hint of the Hess House and the initial story will release all at once in 6 episodes. Eventually I'd love to add future episodes containing audio of the grief posts that followed Hannah's story, but that's only a dream for now.

     Apple Podcasts: A Hint of the Hess House Podcast

If you'd like to read the stories, simply follow this link to the Hannah Grace page on this blog. You can read the initial parts of the story and you can also find the grief posts further down on that same page already published.

To those who have been with us these last ten years, thank you. For those who grieved with us, I pray that the Lord used that time to draw you nearer to Him and the truth of His Word.

To those that have just arrived here and are new to our story, I pray you will be blessed by what the Lord did in our lives so long ago. I pray that you would find more of God's truth woven into our story than you could have imagined.

To those who've been sent here by a friend or family member because you yourself have suffered the loss of a child or grandchild, I am so very sorry. Know that I am praying for you now and I have been praying for you for the last ten years, that you would know the comfort of God during this time and that you would know the understanding and peace that can only come from Him.

Thank you. I hope you'll stay and listen.

Five Years

Five years. 

It is hard to believe it’s been five years when I remember it like it was yesterday. I could tell you more details about that day than any other day in my life. I could tell you more details about Hannah’s face than I could tell you about the wrinkles on my very own hands. When I can remember it so clearly, how could it be that five years have passed?

But then I look around our home and I see the passing of the time. There is a four year old boy that filled my arms only eleven months after Hannah died; he’s writing his own name and asking me questions about life that make me have to think and think hard. There’s a two year old boy that has the sweetest soul I’ve ever known in a person and there’s a six month old that brings more joy into this house with every day that passes. And they’re all mine, all her little brothers. Our home is bursting at the seams with kiddos and love and laundry.

The time surely passes.

Every day there is less remembering and more becoming.

As the years go by every day is less about remembering who she was and more about living the way God has called me to live because of her and my love for her. There is less missing her and more being a better mom to these boys because of her. 

I am a different mom every day because of her.

I still sit sometimes in her nursery in the oversized chair like I once did. The first time I looked around the room just a few days before she was born. I was so pleased. Everything in the nursery had come together so perfectly, everything was ready. I dreamt about who she was going to be and all the room would hold. 

A few days later we returned home from the hospital empty handed to our empty nursery and I sat in the chair once again. The room was a different kind of empty. I sat in that chair for hours in the days and weeks that followed just thinking of her, asking God a lot of questions, and praying for a number of things. I asked him to fill the room.

And so now, five years later, sometimes I sit in that chair and giggle just a bit. The room is full. It’s so very full that we’re looking into bunk bed options to fit all the kids. On an almost daily basis the floor is full of tiny pots and pans and Lincoln logs and monster trucks and books, oh the books! And every night my boys, my wonderful blessings, they dream and sleep in that very same room. It’s so very full.

Five years later and we still hope for the very best for our children. As a Christian we pray that our children will join us as we work to know God and to make Him known. 

And, oh how my sweet girl has already done both.

Without breathing a breath on this earth, more people know God because of her life and death. The Lord gave her to us as a blessing and in her life and death the Lord drew us, and so many, nearer to himself. As we continue to share her story, God is glorified. For what satan meant for evil, God has used for good. It is my honor everyday to be her mother.

Happy Birthday my sweet Hannah Grace. To God be the glory.

If you’d like to read the read the story of the life and death of our daughter Hannah Grace and the grieving that followed, you can find a number of posts here. I pray that as you read them, the Lord will draw you near. Her life and death have been a picture of the Lord’s favor upon us.

Calling

It's been a little quiet here because it's been so very un-quiet in my home. There are babies crying at all hours of the night, there are dance parties filling our kitchen, and there are squeals of delight filling our tickle fights and wrestling matches.

Our days start when the first kid wakes and I don't often really sit down until both of the kiddos are asleep. I stay up too late sometimes because it is nice to a have a few minutes 'to myself.' But if I'm honest I'm more sleep deprived than I ever imagined a sane person could be.

The days have been full. Our hearts have been full. But little is the time for writing or reading (anything more than Berenstain Bears and Moo Baa La La La). These are the days that belong more to them than they do to me and I consider myself blessed.

But I've been learning and wishing I could write everything down. We had a wonderful summer in the mountains and I was gifted a sweet book and few life lessons that taught me quite a bit more about my role as a mom.

I learned that being a mother can be my calling.

I learned that ministry with young children in the house sometimes looks more like wiping food up off the floor or getting a kid to sleep for the third time in one night. It looks more like running for adventure and getting dirty and changing clothes and trying your very best to get sand out of a 12 month old's hair. It looks more like working a little bit extra to teach your kids about Jesus and instill truth and discipline and show them God's grace.

It looks less like writing a blog that everyone loves or posting pictures that everyone 'likes.' It looks less like that casual yet put-together gal you see in the magazine with a Crew Cuts kid on her hip (like she doesn't get snot wiped on her shoulder every fifteen minutes).

I learned even more that they young years of motherhood may mean that you don't even get to serve in the places that are good. Sometimes you don't get to be the one to jump first to volunteer. You may not get to be the one to host weekly Bible study and you may not get to be the coordinator of the kids Christmas program at church. You may not get to be the listening ear to a friend in need because someone else is literally pulling you away with their sticky peanut butter and jelly hands.

And that's okay.

God has called us to make disciples and my disciples are just a little shorter than they once were.

Every day I need Jesus more than I ever imagine because I am all in. I am consumed by the diligent training of my people, the tiny people He gave me to raise up. Every day I am whittling my tiny arrows and praying that my quiver full will one day shoot straight for the Lord.

It's a holy calling to pour yourself out every day in love to your children. It's a mission to go to their little hearts every day and preach to them grace and love and justice and Jesus.

So the blog may be a little dusty and empty, my hair may have more dry shampoo than anyone's ever should, and I may even be looked down upon ever so often because I said 'no' to a very good volunteer position. But every day I tell my kids and my husband 'yes.' Every day I try my best to seek the Lord and his Word and know his will for my life. And today my calling is to be a mother.

And it's a holy calling.

Noah Bear: Six Months

Remember that baby that I told you I was going to birth in the mountains. Well he's here. And he's six months old. And well I never officially announced his presence because having a baby in the mountains and then moving states away with your newborn and your toddler all less than one week from the day you gave birth isn't exactly when you have the most free time.

The sleepless nights of the newborn stage while chasing a toddler during the "sleep when the baby sleeps" hours doesn't leave time for any sort of coherent writing. Someday I'll try to explain this to Noah like my mom explained my baby sister's empty baby book that had a few pictures in the box it was encased in. Sorry kid, there was more to do than to sit down and write every moment of your life. (Just to be clear my mom later finished my sister's baby book and she probably did a much better job years later.)

Our Noah Bear came into this world with a bit of surprise and a lot of expectation. Camp had ended and we waited for his arrival. Since Lincoln was born an entire month early we expected Noah to be early too, but Noah would prove to take his own sweet time. Eventually a little "worry" on a ultrasound would cause me to be induced and our Noah Bear entered into the world.

His first days were crazy. We stayed in the hospital longer than we had planned. Noah went "home" to our cabin at camp with a rolling oxygen tank that he absolutely hated. We had a fussy baby whose fussiness we would later come to find was due to a tongue tie that made him almost starve for the first few weeks of his life. My parents flew to meet us in Colorado where Kyle packed our entire summer cabin into our minivan and drove home while I, Lincoln, newborn Noah and my mom and dad all flew back to Texas.

The next few weeks were a blur of doctor's appointments. Bilirubin this and tongue tie that. Hearing screening here and VLCAD check there. For about a month I thought to myself "what have we done?" and then the dust settled. (Well also the tongue tie was resolved and Noah could finally be the milk drunk happy baby that "everyone else" had.)

And then I was able to clearly see the new little baby we had been blessed with. Noah Bear is a joy. Everyone remarks about how happy he is, his toothless grin can light up a room. He is so very "chill." While Lincoln wanted to be swaddled and coddled, Noah's favorite place to sleep was unswaddled on the living room floor. Fussy baby? Oh, then just lay him on the ground.

Noah has a peace about him which is so very funny because it's one of the reasons I named him Noah. Noah means rest or comfort or peace. And I remember going back and forth about names and thinking that I would love to have a name that meant peace. As I was driving to one of my many doctor's appointments something on the radio mentioned the name Noah and there it was. I felt like the Lord had given me such a great peace throughout my pregnancy with Noah, and now here he is: a model of peace.

It's funny how I probably know him best of anyone, but how I often feel like I don't know him at all. After having Lincoln around for almost two and a half years I know him so well. I look at Noah and I long to know who he is and who he will become. I see so many differences between he and Lincoln and I want to see how that plays out. I wish I had the time to just sit and stare at him like I did Lincoln but that's not our reality. Noah may get a little less of me but that means he gets a special love that Lincoln did not know, that of an older sibling. The way Lincoln loves Noah is a big love and the way Noah's face lights up when he sees his big brother is remarkable.

Noah Bear,

You are filled with peace. You are filled with joy. You are squishy and your smile is contagious. You can roll over and hold that head much better than your brother could at your age which is probably why you won't have to wear a baby helmet like he did. You have no scar on your forearm because medicine has improved so much in the short time since Lincoln was born that you had a different test for VLCAD. Truth is, Lincoln's biopsy results, his scar, gave us more information about you. Your sister Hannah also helped you. The doctors in Colorado were so concerned about you because of Hannah's stillbirth that you got biweekly check-ups and one of those checkups was what led to your induction. We'll never know for sure, but it's possible that weekly ultrasound caught a placental bleed that could have meant your demise. I like to think it was a way God let you sister be a part of your story: her death possibly saving your life.

I cannot wait to know you. I cannot wait to hear the thoughts that I can read deep in your eyes. I cannot wait to see where you run, how you explore and how you grow to bring more joy to those around you. I pray for the day you know the Lord and I pray you know that His love is the best love you'll ever know. And that's saying something because I love you a lot.

If it matters: you weigh 18 pounds, you have a larger than 95th percentile head just like your brother, you can roll over and you can sit up for about three seconds. You started eating avocados about two days before you turned six months old and you cannot seem to eat food fast enough. Your brother and your Daddy make you smile the most and you seem to love me too. You are calm, peaceful, and I love you. Feel free to sleep through the night anytime you want, for now I'll take you sleeping nine hours straight and I'd love for you to learn to nap the way you did when you were a newborn. The "just lay him on the carpet" trick doesn't work quite like it used to but we love you just the same.

Also sorry your six month "photo shoot" was me taking pictures of you laying on your bother's trampoline in a random onesie. You'd been six months old for about a week and I never seemed to find the time to make 'perfect.' These pictures are a picture of our life right now, you're smiling but we aren't winning any awards on Pinterest or anything. But hey, you're a boy, I'm sure you won't mind.

Happy Six Months my Noah Bear. Where did the time go?

Love always,
Mom

Why Not?

Last night my two year old son climbed into his baby brother's high chair as I snapped, "get down!" and turned to my husband Kyle and said, "he's always trying to climb in there."

Kyle looked at me and asked, "why is it that Lincoln can't get in Noah's chair?"

Now he didn't ask me this in front of Lincoln. He supported me and helped get Lincoln out of the baby chair. But he was honestly asking why. And you know what: I wasn't sure.

With the baby chair, I'm not sure if the chair will support my toddler. The chair is built in such a way that if he stands up the wrong way it could be a large fall. And if our 5 month old is in the chair and his two year old brother decides to climb in with him, well, it wouldn't go so well.

The decision is still that he cannot climb into the chair, but I woke up today thinking about my husband's question:

Why not?

See I'm a Type A Mom. I love order. I love structure. I believe kids do too to some extent, at least mine do. Order provides a type of security so that they know what to expect. We have the same nap time and bedtime routine each night and I honestly believe it helps Lincoln go to sleep easily.

But since Noah arrived on the scene I think I've gotten a little bit wrapped up in the order.

The first month with two under two was a whirlwind to say the least. Noah was born in Colorado in a small mountain town hospital where we brought him "home" to our cabin on camp, all while he was connected to a not-so-little rolling oxygen tank. We took our little newborn and his big brother home via airplane before Noah was even a week old and then we had about two weekdays in the first month of his life that we weren't at a doctor's appointment. For a healthy baby, I was one tired momma.

So I think in all the madness I needed some sort of order. I needed something to control. And honestly I think it's been my two year old.

Yes, we are training him and we should be. We are teaching him how to hug his brother without suffocating him and we are training him up to be a non-terrorist, but I think it went beyond that. I felt like all day I was telling this kid no.

"No, don't put your finger inside your sandwich. Roll your sleeves up. No, stop, wipe your hands off before you roll your sleeves up." (Because then I'd have to do laundry.)

"No. Stop. Lincoln! Don't open that cabinet." (Because of the possibility of thinking he was allowed to play inside the cabinet and then would make a mess when I wasn't looking).

"No, don't color with the yellow marker right on top of the blue. It'll turn the yellow blue..." (To "save" the yellow washable kids marker.)

"No, don't hold it that way...

"No, do it faster...

"No, walk slower...

"No, don't close that door, you'll wake up your bother." (When honestly he was sweetly closing the door to "help" brother sleep.)

So this morning I thought about my husband's question. And the answer to "why not?" was me. Because I want it to be easier. I want to be in control. I want to keep every plate spinning just perfectly so that we don't all fall apart.

No wonder my kid sneaks in disobedience every chance he gets.

So today we played.

I prayed that God would keep our day together. That God would keep the plates spinning or remind me that I don't need so many plates in the first place. I remembered that I'm kidding myself if I think that I am the one holding it all together anyway.

And as my kid poured a Gatorade bottle full of water on the back brick porch and my habitual tongue went to say "no! we don't pour out our water!" he giggled. He looked at the way the water splashed and the way the brick turned a different color as the little stream of water ran across it.

And I stopped.

Because why not?

So I got a pitcher and we refilled that Gatorade bottle with water over and over again. Because water dries. He splashed in the puddle and even sat in it and got his khaki shorts all muddy. Because clothes wash. When I went inside for a moment to put his baby brother down for a nap I returned to find his arms elbow deep in a flower pot full of mud as he stirred in weeds and grass and explained in his proud little voice, "I work Momma! I work hard!"

And I just laughed.

I helped him pull up his sleeves and I saw his little eyes look at me asking if he could keep going. He was waiting for me to say no. So I looked at him and smiled and said, "yes baby boy, you're working hard. Momma's proud of you!" and back to 'work' he went.

So we climbed trees today and I let him try to peel his own oranges even though that meant there was orange all over his face and all down his shorts. I let him explore our back yard for the longest time as he pushed his little mower and rode his little bike that he calls a "motorcycle."

We had messy sandwiches for lunch and when I asked him to help me clean up lunch he did it willingly. We had ice cream cones on the porch after nap time and I loved every minute of it.

Yes he was still a toddler and he had his moments. He still got mad at Battleship and threw the pieces everywhere. I still was my OCD self and made him sort the different colored pieces back into the coordinating bins. But he got to be a kid today.

I think I expected him to grow up the moment his baby brother arrived. I think I've set this expectation that he shouldn't run at the zoo and that he should use a napkin at all times and that he should every. single. time. say "thank you" to me so that at least someone somewhere is saying it.

But he's just a little boy.

He's a messy, fun, curious, hilarious little bouncing ball of joy.

And I get to be his mom.

So I can try my best to make him 'perfect' or I can let him explore the wonderful world God created and get a little dirty every once in a while. And yes, maybe I'll have to do a little more laundry, but I bet the kid will help me with the laundry anyway.

Mrs. Frizzle really knew what she was doing, "Take chances, make mistakes, and get messy." Today I loved both of my boys better than I have in a while and I got to love them rather than loving the organized tiny people I guess I thought they should be.

Here's to motherhood and learning as you go. Will tomorrow be even better? Why not?

Maybe They'll Even Mean Something

I am a perfectionist.

It's true.

I even took a personality quiz the other day that told me; so it must be true. It was on the internet.

I don't mean that I do everything perfectly, not anywhere near perfect. But I have a need for perfection or completion. If the dish pile is too large for me to finish it all then why even start. If I cannot completely clean my room then why even take the time to pick up a few things off the floor. If I cannot make the entire kitchen look the way I want it to, then why spend the time and money replacing the cabinet pulls to 'try' to help things.

Before kids I had more time. If I could go back and tell my 'busy' college self that I'm sure she wouldn't believe me, but I did have more time. I may have filled it with a million things but I was the one who decided how I would spend my time.

Now a kiddo will wake up a little earlier than expected and that pile of dishes I finally started gets stopped halfway through and it's like I never even touched it. So lately I find myself sweeping the floor more often and doing laundry much less. I can usually guarantee I have time to finish the floor, but the laundry 'I probably shouldn't even try to start.'

And to tell the truth, this is also the way I write.

I haven't posted anything here in quite some time. 

I sit down to write often, but often I am interrupted. I have many, many drafts saved but nothing finished. So many times I left things unfinished, that it became easier to not even sit down and write. "There's no way I'll get anything completed so I might as well do something else." And that was it.

Back in the old days of this blog I told stories about the time I thought I lost my camera at the Big 12 Championship and I rattled on about my thesis homework. Then Hannah came along and everything got a bit bigger. My words had more weight. Her story carried so much of God's truth to so many. So sometimes now I sit down to write about poopy diapers and it seems so much less significant. Why even write it?

So I decided a few nights ago that I was going to sit down and write something about not writing. I was going to make it official that I wouldn't be posting anything for a while. I'd give myself a good excuse like kids and lack of sleep and I'd be done.

But before I could write anything, today happened.

The morning was an avalanche of babies waking early and my toddler threw his milk cup at my face hard enough that I fell off of bed. My kid wouldn't stop whining while I was 'having fun' with him making cupcakes because I wouldn't let him drink the batter. I showered last night but I'm sure you wouldn't be able to tell and my five month old decided he would just stop napping altogether.

And then my husband sent me the best article about being a momma and it was perfect.

Not because it was perfectly written. Not because it used the best dollar words.

It was perfect for me because someone shared their story and I remembered that I was not the only one doing this mom thing. I was reminded that yep, these kids are going to grow up one day and I'm not going to have to get to hold them while they nap.

It reminded me that even if my story is not perfect that it's mine. It's the story that God has given me to share. Millions of people don't even have to love it to make it worth something. 

Sometimes only one person has to read it and be reminded of truth. And sometimes that person is me re-reading it a few hours or days or years later.

So I'm not "back" but I'm not "gone."

I'll be writing some time. Between the blessings and the blowouts, somehow the words will come out. And maybe, just maybe, if I've gotten more than four hours of consecutive sleep anytime in the last week, maybe they'll even mean something.

10 Days of Nativity: 2016

If you were around last year during the Christmas season you may remember me playing with Lincoln's Little People nativity scene and posting it all over the social media. Acting out the Christmas story was a way for me to teach Lincoln about the birth of Jesus, the true reason for the season. This year Lincoln is two and he is already learning about the "Baby Jesus" with "no crib" who sleeps "on the hay" where the animals eat. I love to see his little mind begin to understand who Jesus is, even if it's only through songs and games at this point. I'm excited to see how the 10 Days of Nativity go this year. So far it's been pretty comical.

So we're back at it again and I'm ready to invite you along (And when I say "we" I mean me, Kyle, Lincoln, and baby Noah-who I birthed and never wrote a thing on the blog about because, well I had two under two and needed sleep). Anyways...

In the true spirit of Christmas, I'd love for you to join me for the next two weeks as I challenge you to play with your nativity scenes as you reenact the Christmas story. Feel free to use whatever nativity scene you have adorning your home. If you choose your grandmother's antique set, well, use some caution around the kids and don't hold me liable. If you're looking for a "playable" nativity set, we use the Little People nativity set and it's stood up to the beating of a once one year old and now two year old.

Below are the links to the ten daily posts all right here for you. The posts are the same as last year, because I checked and the Bible hadn't changed so I figured we'd be safe. Each post includes part of the Christmas story as told in the Bible. The posts will include a picture of my Lincoln's Little People Nativity characters telling the story and the scripture reference for that day's portion of the story. Although you can get the posts for all ten days in the links below, each day on Instagram @brittanyhess and Facebook I'll have the simplified posts to keep you on track.

I've pulled out Lincoln's Nativity toys and we've already started playing. In the posts I'll note which characters we'll be introducing that day and feel free to pull out your nativity scenes (Little People or not) and let your kiddos (or roommates) play along as you read. Some of the portions of scripture are quite long, feel free to tailor the length to your personal patience levels...

If you want you can simply follow along and read the posts. Go a step further and break out your own Bible and your own nativity. Or go even a step further and snap a few pics of you and yours joining in the fun. Post those pics to Instagram or Facebook and make sure to use the hashtag #10DaysofNativity so that I can see the pics! Feel free to tag me if you'd like @brittanyhess.

Let's see how this goes with a two year old this year. I'm hoping less people get eaten or licked, but I can't promise anything...

Week One
Day 1: Gabriel Sent to Nazareth
Day 2: Mary's Song
Day 3: Joseph's Dream
Day 4: Travel to Bethlehem
Day 5: Jesus is Born!

Week Two
Day 6: Shepherds & Angels
Day 7: Shepherds Visit Jesus
Day 8: Magi See the Star
Day 9: Magi See Jesus
Day 10: God Loves Us & Sent His Son

Merry Christmas to you and yours and I hope someday I'll get a bit more sleep and I'll return to update you on our lives at the Hess House.

Big Bellies and New T-Shirts

A few nights ago I jumped online to buy some new summer shorts.

I have a few pair of 'summer camp' shorts that I wore a couple of years ago when I was pregnant with Lincoln. Then last summer I wore them again and a sweet friend said to me, "Brittany, you know, you could wear smaller shorts..." and I felt all glowy like I was the girl in Napoleon Dynamite.

"You could be drinking whole if you wanted to..." Anyone?

Well folks I have outgrown the big shorts. And just today someone asked me "how many on the way?" in which I'm pretty sure he was asking if I was having twins...

But I'm not complaining. I'm not looking for someone to say "wow you look so thin!" "Where is your bikini?" "Oh my you don't even look pregnant?!" Because come on...

The last few summers that I've been pregnant in Colorado we headed home in the fall when I hit the 20-22 week mark. This summer we arrived in Colorado at the 22 week mark and so I'm growing out of my summer clothing items quickly.

In the past when my belly has gotten this big I've been in my fancy work clothes and once arriving home I immediately donned by favorite pair of black baggy yoga pants and one of Kyle's man-sized t-shirts.

But now we're at camp. And all the maternity people make V-neck shirts which, if I'm being honest, are just not the most appropriate for the pregnant ladies to wear around family camp.

So this week I bought some new camp shirts, some Lake City t-shirts, and two new pair of athletic shorts in a larger, more comfy size. And man, clothes that fit are wonderful. We should all embrace it. My super cute extra large t-shirts are my new best friends.

Here's to 12 more weeks of growing, and to my doc who says "hmm, you're measuring big."

Yep, my husband was an 11 pound baby and my month early baby was seven pounds... We grow the men strong in the Hess house.

Mountain Life

We've been in the mountains for nearly a month now. Our bodies are finally acclimating to the high altitude and the cool weather. Well, Kyle's body is acclimating and mine is growing a baby so I'd be lying if I said it was getting easier to breathe...

The mountains are always wonderful, but our days here are busy and full. In years past I've been busy working and now it's a bit different. I often wonder who thinks I'm 'lazy' as I order them around to get a cabin clean all while sitting on the ground with my toddler in my lap hunting for the best rocks and looking for wonderful places to hide them.

Our days begin early as our little "mama, dada" alarm clock rings. Sometimes Lincoln wakes crying because of our close living quarters and lack of insulation between rooms, and sometimes he pops up happy and ready for adventure. Often he is talking about boots or outside or possibly the horses that he thinks are cows and calls "moos" before anything else.

Toddler mornings and the work at camp begins. My contribution to the morning meetings is often limited by the number of items Lincoln wants to pull off of someone else's desk. But when the desks contain ice axes or sat phones or wireless mouses I cannot blame him.

Breakfast brings in all of Lincoln's "friends" that he's made here with our college staff in the last few weeks. Somehow he has chosen favorites, which means some are greeted with a "morning!" or with kisses or with endless fist bumps. And the day unfolds from there.

The days are full of watching others work so very efficiently on camp work. All while I let my to-do list pile up, and therefore my nights are full of catching up on anything but sleep. Even so, I love being a mother here.

I wish I could accurately describe the adventures we go on. Every step offers a new wonder that I get to see my sweet boy explore. Trees become magical. Geese and "doh-gees" become his best friends. Lincoln plays more "boo" than he ever has before, running and laughing and hiding, even if hiding means he simply covers his eyes to disappear.

In the last few days we've discovered the stream that runs near the front gate of camp. We pick dandelions and toss them in to "float fast" and find rocks to throw in and "sploosh." The way my little guy splashes his little hands in the cold water lets me see not only his adventurous spirit but I get to see the way he is falling in love with the nature God created.

Lincoln reminds me to sit in awe of the Lord more, whether it's because of his awe in the world or because of my awe in my little baby growing up right before my very eyes. Lincoln teaches me to love well, to say "morning!" and to welcome the day ready to love. Lately Lincoln's been wanting to help too, reminding me that his little temper tantrums are not the only thing inside of him, but that he is often selfless too. He's been watering the flowers and cleaning up dishes and helping in any way a toddler can, even if it often makes the job take much longer.

In a world where the minutes and years often pass us by, I am blessed to stop and soak in these moments. I love being Lincoln's mother. Even if that means my work piles up.

I don't mind the piles, really. I'm even getting very good at stacking them high and making them seem to be organized... because someday my boy is gonna grow out of those adorable rain boots and the piles and the boots will all disappear together.

I'll miss this someday, someday soon I'm sure.

Bumps, Bruises and Big Brother

We do find out the gender of Baby Number Three today! Mostly though we are praying that the ultrasound goes well and that this sweet little kicking baby is healthy. Until then, take a trip back to ten weeks.

 

Little Tiny Baby,

Today your big brother took a nasty fall. Twice. I am convinced that he was trying to get himself a 'cool' scar but I know that he's just young and didn't realize that he would trip and fall or that when he stepped backwards on stairs that he would go all the way down said stairs.

I imagine you two playing together and even the bumps and bruises that you may give each other. It makes me wonder if you're a little boy in there that will be the sidekick to all his adventures or maybe a little girl in there that will try so hard to tag along and at some point get kicked out when 'no girls allowed' comes into play.

I hope either way that you will take lots of adventures together. I hope that you will love each other. I hope that you are best friends and can make each other laugh in a way no one else can. I hope that you don't come home too banged up on account of your big brother's dare, but I'm sure there will be a few times.

I love you in there. I can't wait for you to come out and join our little family. On second thought, don't come out just yet, you need more time to cook and I need more time to get your brother ready for all this.
Mom

That Time I was Nine Weeks Pregnant

In my quest to make Baby Number Three feel loved, I give you: Week Nine

Little Tiny Nine Week Old Baby,

I love you. I'm sure your brother will love you too once he realizes you're there. Right now he's just taking advantage of Mom's extra squishy belly and the fact that my hormones make me want to cuddle him all the time. Tonight I read him a bedtime story and realized that you both were there. We sang a favorite "Rise and Shine" and at this point I'm sure you'll be born knowing the lyrics. I sang tonight thinking about my little Children of the Lord and how I pray for you to both rise and shine and give God the glory all the days of your life.

I love you. Also I apologize for my singing voice...
Mom

Note: Yep I'm a little behind... what's new?

Third Babies

You may remember in the days of old when I was pregnant and told you every detail. I sat with my feet up, justifying another yummy snack, typing away as I reflected on the little tiny eggplant-sized baby growing in my belly!

Today I usually remember that I'm pregnant when Lincoln jumps on my belly or when I realize a favorite shirt doesn't quite fit the same anymore. Sometimes my phone reminds me how 'far along' I am and most of the time I'm shocked.

I wanted to be all fit and in shape for Colorado so I did half of an easy-peasy workout DVD that is made for pregnant ladies. You'd probably get bored doing this video because it's so simple. Well, I couldn't walk straight for like three days without my legs giving out and them I remembered 'oh, that's right, I'm pregnant.'

My second exercise attempt was a quick walk pushing Lincoln in the stroller on the most perfect weather day. Lately Lincoln's wanted to play in the back yard so I'd slacked up on my walking... Yeah I was about halfway through my walk after a downhill and I had to stop and breathe. A downhill?! And then I remembered 'oh I'm like 18 weeks pregnant!' That's why.

So while I'm still doing my best to stay in shape and prepare for the mountains of Colorado, at least I appreciate the reminder.

Dear Little Baby Hess Number Three,

I love you. But I keep forgetting to take pictures of the tummy you're making on mommy. Someday I'll have so many things written about your sister and brother and well, just know that I love you too. If you get worried about my love for you, talk to Aunt Payton about her baby book. I'm pretty sure it was empty until a few years ago, but Grandma loves her very much.

There are a few pictures I took of 'you' even if it hasn't been every week...

 

By the looks of things, your brother must have been napping. I've got my workout shoes on so I was probably busy being really fit and you were probably wondering what unusual things were happening. You dad and I had just heard your little heart beat the day before and the doctor said it was 169 beats per minute. So far you're healthy, even though mom's exhausted. Your brother decided to get molars during week eight and therefore woke me up every two hours last night. You two are fighting for my attention already. I love you both. I'll try not to ever have a favorite, but I'm not sure how all that works yet.

 

I love you. We're making room for you. I promise.

Love you always,
Mom

Sibling Rivalry

Life seems to have been a whirlwind lately. I'm pretty sure my baby just turned one and now here he is looking like a little boy. I'm not sure how this happened in what seems like 5 days.

With Baby Number Three time seems to be flying even faster. A close friend asked me the other day "so how far along are you?" I told her about 8 or 8.5 weeks maybe. Then two days later my little pregnancy app reminded me that I was 12 weeks pregnant. Oops.

Technically we got the first hint that we were pregnant at the very end of 2015. We came home from our Christmas travels and a little pee stick said "pregnant." The part that cracks me up is the sibling rivalry that started that day.

Let's just say that people had been asking when Lincoln started walking. Back in December when my kid was 13 months old my answer was still "yeah, he doesn't walk yet." 'All' the other kids were walking, but I wasn't really concerned. Little Lincoln could take his own sweet time because this momma was in no rush for her little baby to grow up and graduate and move away and get married and leave me forever, etc.

But either way, the day Lincoln walked was going to be a big one.

So out I walk into the living room with the pee test. Yes, I walked into the living room with the test in my hand. First kids or second kids, call for a cute t-shirt or "baby" spelled out in tiny pepperonis on a pizza. Third babies apparently warrant:

Husband: Should we buy a test?
Wife: Sure, pull in here. No one goes here so we won't see anyone we know.
Wife (at home): Okay, can you watch the kid while I go to the bathroom.
Kid: (bangs on bathroom door)
Wife: Yay, it says pregnant!

Or at least that's how it went down at the Hess house. Sure we jumped for joy and are so very thrilled, but yep it's just different. And Lincoln seemed to think so too.

As we sat on the living room floor, playing with Lincoln, and talking about new baby things, Lincoln decided to take his very first steps. The kid walked from me to his daddy as if to say, "guys I'm still here and I'm way more impressive than that pee test thing mom seems to be so proud of."

Good luck Baby Number Three, so far I've remembered to take like 5 pictures of my belly (all with your brother in them) and Lincoln is already putting you in your place. I promise we'll love you forever, you just may not have as many 'memories' as everyone else...

Is there a better name for Pregnancy Hormone-Induced Emotional Mess?

Pregnancy hormones are making me crazy. One minute I'm all sappy staring at my toddler and the next I'm snapping at my husband because, get this, he was ready to go to bed. (Sorry Kyle!) Y'all I even asked him to try to consider my feelings when he decides it's time for bed and makes me feel like a child. It was like an hour and a half past our normal bedtime and I was falling asleep on the couch and I needed someone to tell me to go to bed... maybe it was hormones and tired. Who knows?

But this go around pregnancy has been pretty simple. I kind of know what to expect in most departments. The doctor's appointments are not new, the eating recommendations are old hat (I've been avoiding raw cookie dough for like three years now), and I'm even pretty good on the 'guess what size baby is this week' game.

But some things are different too.

Of course I now have a toddler to chase so my days of sitting on the couch making Kyle bring me bon-bons because I'm 'with child' are over. I spend quite a bit on energy shielding my belly from my wrestling toddler and of course there are times when I get a bit more winded and have to tell Lincoln that Mommy has to take a break from our dance party.

But there's a little thing that I wasn't expecting: all the emotions.

I found myself crying the other day, like sobbing, over nothing. As I tried through the crying to figure out what made me start crying in the first place I ran through a list of things that could make me cry. Which, of course, then only made me cry more. I missed Hannah, I was worried about how I'll love Lincoln when there's two kids, and how is this Colorado birth really going to go. I was all confused and all exhausted and feeling all the emotions and my sweet boy was hiding playing in the back room with his trains.

I thought maybe I needed more sleep, or a hug from my wonderful husband, or a tickle from my little guy, but really I just needed a bit of Jesus. I needed the sweet reminder that the Lord has everything under control, no matter what it was I was even crying about in the first place, he's got it. He even knows why I'm crying, which is great, because that makes one of us.

I went to Jesus and was reminded of my dependence upon Him. Mostly I was reminded of every expectation that he exceeds, every promise he fulfills, every sorrow that he knows and understands.

Easter is coming. And it's more than Peeps and egg hunts and tiny adorable plaid shirts (although I'm sure we'll have all those things and more). But it's the reminder that I need Jesus. I needed Him to die and rise again to save me, I continue to need Him daily to live in such a way that people see more of Him and less of me.

Even if the only person that sees me someday is my kid. Because, really, he needs to see Jesus in me too.

Eventually I quit sobbing and started praising the Lord, which then led to more sobbing, but happy sobbing. And then I found myself in church on Sunday singing His praises again, and right there in the middle of everyone I was sobbing again. I cry because I know His great love for me, I cry because I remember the loss and the pain I have been through, I cry because I am grateful for the healing He has provided and continues to provide daily.

I am grateful for my Lord. The whole world around me can fail, but my Lord will not forsake me. Even if my world is not really failing, because, like I said, I'm not even sure what I was crying about anyway...

Mountain Baby

 

 

For real.

 

 

Baby Hess Number Three is gonna be born in Colorado.

 

At like 8500 feet.

 

And possibly during camp.

 

If you've been around for a while you know that my husband works for a Christian camp based in Texas. We spend the 'school year' in Texas and then he runs the family camp they have in Colorado during the summer. This means that we get to live in Colorado for four months out of the year in the beautiful mountains with the cool, dry air surrounded by the sounds of wildlife and happy children. Sounds like a dream, but really, it's true.

 

We both work for camp while we are there so we stay quite busy, but it's a wonderful ministry type of busy and we can't complain about the setting!

 

But let's just say that when I went to see my doctor one of the nurses said something along the lines of "so I guess no Colorado vacation this year?" and I replied "oh, no, it's not a vacation, we move there. For four months. It's either I go with Kyle for four months or I miss my husband dearly, take care of a toddler all by myself while pregnant, and my husband misses the birth of his child. So yeah, we're going."

 

She was a little shocked.

 

But my doc is great. She determined the due date to be September 8th, give or take a few weeks on the actual delivery date of course. Lincoln came four weeks early so we're talking a window of about August 11th to September 10th. We live in Colorado until September 1st. So do the math.

 

If we try to make the sixteen hour drive home while one week from my due date, odds are in our favor for a roadside delivery.

 

If we try to get me home to Texas 'before the baby could possibly be born' we're talking about me leaving Colorado over a month early and doing the super-pregnant woman chases a toddler and daddy misses the birth of his child fiasco.

 

So we stay in Colorado. Until the baby is born.

 

I got on the phone with all the medical people and we've got a plan. I'll see my doc here in Texas until we head to Colorado. Once in Colorado I'll see a doc that I've seen for a few pregnancy checkups in summers past. She delivers babies and everything and will be able to delivery our baby at the nearby town's great little hospital. I have three friends that have delivered babies there before and I've heard no bad reviews. My insurance people say that everything's gravy, everyone's in-network, and we're all set to do this crazy thing.

 

Right?

 

It sounds crazy. Our baby could be born right in the middle of a camp session and we'd just bring the baby 'home' to our little cabin and I guess just be ready for the barn dance the next night! (Just kidding!) We pack the bags like baby could come 4 weeks early and we bring the things we think we can get by with. We try not to overload the car because we'll be travelling back home with two car seats this year! Man, oh, man!

 

It's still hard to wrap my mind around it all.

 

The Colorado. The traveling with a newborn and a toddler. The trying to walk up the hill to the campfire while nine months pregnant at 8500 feet. But most of all, it's hard to wrap my head around the fact that we are so very blessed to be pregnant again.

 

Baby Hess Number Three is on the way. Grow some healthy lungs kid, the air is thinner in Colorado.

Our Little King Cake Baby

Just in case you missed the big announcement: Another Baby Hess is on the way! We're due in early September and it's driving me nuts that we don't already know the gender. Call me impatient, but man I wanna know.

Note for the Non-Louisiana People: King Cake is a delicious filled cinnamon roll-like cake eaten during the Mardi Gras season. Hidden inside is a little plastic baby for someone to find as they eat their slice of cake. If you're not used to the tradition, it sounds nuts! If you've every had a slice of good King Cake then you are willing to break a tooth on a baby. So yes, our baby announcement was on Mardi Gras and well, you know what they say... you can take the girl out of Louisiana, but you can't take the Louisiana out of the girl.

More details to come on Baby Hess Number Three. We're gonna see how weekly pictures turn out with a toddler running around the house, it may be monthly photos this go around!

Travel and Closets

The last few months have been quite comical.

If you asked me 'what have you been up to?' I think that I'd run out of air or daylight before I told you everything.

The short version goes like this: Thanksgiving meant traveling and family and wonderful. And then the Christmas season meant we got real festive at the Hess House. Then real Christmas meant more traveling and family and wonderful. And then we travelled to the other family for more Christmas and family and wonderful. Top it off with a flight to Colorado and some more good family time in the snow and wow.

Let's just say that with the packing, laundry, repacking turnaround I could be a flight attendant for an entire family. Not to mention that my bedroom floor looked more like an episode of hoarders than anything resembling a place to rest my head.

Our hearts are full, but I've spent the past few weeks catching up on sleep and trying to create order in our lives once again.

To demonstrate the sleep deprivation (travel and travel and travel does not always a happy sleeper make...) I present to you:

The Time Kyle Laughed at Me in the Middle of the Night

In the wee hours of the dark morning, my dearest little boy woke. He cried his little cry and I flew across the room jumping at the sound of the baby monitor. Because I'm suuuuch a good mom.

It was the middle of the night. It was one of those nights where either the clouds were thick or the moon was new but the little bits of light that come through the bathroom window into our hallway were nonexistent.

I stumbled out of bed, startled, tired, and confused at where the hallway was because, well, travel. Sleeping in multiple rooms with multiple configurations over a few weeks time period can mess with anyone. I found the bedroom door, then the hallway, then Lincoln's door.

It wouldn't seem to open so I wiggled it a bit more. And then magically open it was.

In I went.

And SNAP! Yelp. Confusion.

There was a mousetrap on my foot.

Yep.

The mousetrap that was in the hot water heater closet had snapped shut as my foot brushed it, sparing the bones in my foot but pinching me just a bit. This was the mousetrap in the closet that is down the hallway from Lincoln's room. This is the closet in which the door opens an entirely different direction than Lincoln's door. That one.

I wish I could say that I yelled so loud or was completely shocked but instead my zombie-like self just closed the door and made it to the nursery and eventually back to my bed where my husband was waiting.

Apparently the noise shocked him.

He wanted to know what happened.

I told him. He died laughing. I snapped out of my daze, and I laughed too. Mouse trap. Hot water heater. Tired. There we were a couple of sleep deprived parents just laughing at the good 'ole hour of half past way too late.

Then he turned to me and said, "that's funny, you've gotta put that on the blog." And there you have it.

So fellow moms and dads who have also 'survived' the holiday travels, I pray you are settling well back into routines. I pray you are getting sleep. And I'll also pray that you don't walk into your hot water heater closet tonight and step on a mousetrap. Just to be safe.

Because you never know. It could happen to anyone...

Merry Christmas from the Hesses

Merry Christmas from the Hess House! May you have a wonderful holiday surrounded by those that you love, remembering the One who loves you most and how He demonstrated His love for us.

10 Days of Nativity: Day 10

Day 10: God Love Us & Sent His Son

Today is the WHY. The question that kiddos ask so very much, "But why?" So I pray that you remember to ask "why was Jesus born on earth?" this season. The answer is found throughout the Bible, but it's summed up pretty nicely in today's verse. If you have not made the decision confess your sins, know your need for a savior, believe in Christ and choose him as the Lord of your life, then I pray this is the year that you do. So, honestly, if you've got any questions, please ask and I'll do my very best.

Introduce: (No New Character)

Scripture: John 3:16-21

¹⁶ “For God so loved the world,^[a] that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. ¹⁷ For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. ¹⁸ Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. ¹⁹ And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. ²⁰ For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. ²¹ But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God.”

Questions You May Ask Your Kiddos:

Who does God love? How did he show that to us? To have eternal life with Christ what do we need to do? Who is the light?

10 Days of Nativity: Day 9

Day 9: Magi See Jesus

I saved our camel to be introduced today. Not sure why, but it seemed nice to have him join in with the Billy goat once he arrived at the manger scene. I'm aware that Mary and Joseph and Jesus may not have been at the manger when the magi arrived but it's what I've got and the text here simply mentions a "house.". Today would be a great day to bring up the gifts the magi brought Jesus and the gifts we give on Christmas!

Introduce: Camel

Scripture: Matthew 2:10-12

¹⁰ When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. ¹¹ And going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh. ¹² And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.

Questions You May Ask your Kiddos:

What did the magi do when they saw the star this time? Once they saw Jesus, what did the magi do? Did they bring anything for Jesus? Did the magi return to Herod like he had asked of them? Why?