Annnnd, we're back. 

Our 'spring break' may not have included margaritas on a beach, but it was just as refreshing in its own way. Not only were we able to check items off the to-do list and spend quality time with friends and family, but I also heard from many of you about how you are looking forward to reading more.

And honestly, so am I. So are we.

I can't wait to see what Norah and God have in store for us.
I have a feeling the story is far from over.

Tomorrow is the day. The big day.
Tomorrow is the day I go back to work.

It has been 8 weeks since my last official work day.

Am I ready to go back?

Absolutely, yes.
But also, absolutely not. 

Having a consistent routine will be helpful. If anything, it'll at least give me a solid reason to get out of bed at a decent time. (You know that whole setting-a-schedule thing moms do to prepare their kids to wake up for school after the lazy days of summer? Yeah, I probably should've done that.)

I'm also looking forward to being surrounded by people familiar with our story and being able to enjoy being productive without there being an elephant in the room. (Ok, maybe it'll still be there, but at least everyone knows it's name and not to take its peanut butter.)

What I'm not ready for is the normalcy of it.

Before you experience a loss, you tend to think that death is the scariest part of life.
It's not.
The scariest part is the way that life continues on after death.

Everything has changed, yet nothing has changed.

Laundry still needs to be done. The garbage still needs to be taken out. Bills still need to be paid.

Life carries on, continuing its heartlessly unwavering forward march.

We had planned, hoped, and prayed so desperately for life to be different. We anxiously anticipated the overwhelm that comes with taking care of a newborn and the beautiful uncertainty of our first foray into parenthood.

But now our life looks infuriatingly similar to before Norah was born, to before I was pregnant.

Yesterday, I picked up all of my favorite ingredients for my morning smoothies, then got them home and proceeded to throw them all away. (Ok, not really, because fresh ingredients are expensive and, while I know my Target wardrobe may make this hard to believe, I'm actually not made of money. But you better believe I wanted to!) I hated that I could still do this – pick up my NORMAL ingredients for my NORMAL smoothie to have as part of my NORMAL morning routine.

You guys, I don't want life to be 'normal' anymore.

But I have no idea what that means. 

Does that mean I'll start waking up early every morning to make coffee for Lane then do a prayerful meditation? Does that mean I'll start drinking Komboucha on the regular, master the art of hot yoga, and attempt to improve my health through Pinterest recipes? Does that mean I'll ride the bus, break my addiction to social media, and get a tattoo? Does that mean I'll finally figure out how to do more with my hair than put it in a bun or wear it straight, and break out my makeup again to learn what 'contouring' means? 

Maybe it means all of the above.
Maybe it means none of the above.

Maybe it simply means letting go of any concept of what I think life should be and giving it all to God.

I'm finding that the plans God has for me, for us, for Norah, are nowhere near 'normal'.  

And you know what I say to that?  

Bring it on. 

I'm ready for anything.