Happy Easter, baby girl! I can’t even begin to imagine what the Easter celebration is like in heaven. Do you do paint eggs? Is there a huge meal? Please tell me peeps aren’t allowed in heaven, because… just no.

March has been tough, guys. It's been broken, beautiful, and incredibly heavy all at once.

We’ve walked through a lot of big days this month, with each one carrying its own unique weight and all of them coming alongside the fresh grief of Mom’s death in February. March holds the anniversaries of Norah’s birth, life, and death, her celebration of life, her burial, and the day we learned of mom’s diagnosis.

Like I said, it’s been heavy.

Oh my sweet girl, today you are one!

365 days ago, we were dreaming of your first year – of getting to hold you, teach you, and eagerly watch you grow – smiling as you learn and explore the world around you.

That did happen, Norah, except you weren’t the one being held, taught, or loved on.
We were.

My darling, what a year you have given us.

On Saturday morning, February 3rd, my mother, Lori Green, found eternal peace.

Time is truly incredible, Norah. One year ago your daddy and I were praying for time to slow so we could keep you safe in my belly, while also eagerly anticipating holding you in our arms for the first time.

We enter this February again filled with trepidation and anticipation.

January traditionally kicks off with a slew of new goals, hopes, and dreams for the coming 365 days.

But popular New Year’s resolutions — losing weight, eating healthier, etc. — now seem trivial in the shadow of cancer and loss. After a year in which every plan, goal, and hope was turned on its head, making new plans or setting new goals begs the question, “what if?”

So we've decided to do something different; instead of a long list of goals, I’ve picked a 'word of the year' that will act as a guiding light for our family in 2018.