As we close out 2025, I keep coming back to how this year has somehow held the highest highs and the lowest lows of our lives.
We started the year full of excitement, counting down to Sabrina’s arrival. She was born on February 15th, and within hours we found ourselves in the NICU. We spent two terrifying days there and truly believed that was the most scared we would ever be. In the end, it turned out to be blood sugar issues — something very common in newborns — and it resolved quickly. We went home and stepped into life as a family of four.
The next five months were full of all the normal newborn things: sleepless nights, exhaustion, frustration, appointments, schedules, daycare logistics, and trying to figure out how to juggle it all. It was hard — but it was normal. And there were so many moments where Kyle and I would sit in the living room with both kids and just look at each other and say, we are so lucky. Two beautiful, healthy kids. A full house. A really good life.
Everything changed on July 25th.
What started as ongoing visits to the pediatrician for reflux and feeding issues turned into a chest X-ray, an urgent trip to the ER, and then an ambulance ride to Children’s Minneapolis. That day, we learned Sabrina was in severe heart failure — something I had never heard of or even fathomed. Since then, we’ve been inpatient at the Cardiovascular Care Center, and the last five months have been a crash course in the pediatric heart world.
We’ve learned more than we ever wanted to know, made a plan, changed the plan (multiple times), and adjusted again and again as Sabrina showed us what she needed. And now, as we head into the new year, we’re taking steps toward going home with nursing support — something that once felt impossible.
To say this year has been overwhelming doesn’t even begin to cover it. We have cried more tears this year than all our other years combined. But it’s also been overwhelming in another way: the love. The support. The people who have shown up for our girl, for Audie, and for us in every way imaginable.
As we look ahead to 2026, this is what I’m carrying with me: this is still a good life. Our house will still be full — of love, noise, chaos, and joy. There will just be a little extra spice in the form of medical equipment and teaching our toddler how to be careful around his baby sister (which will definitely be its own adventure).
And we’re still lucky.
Not lucky that Sabrina has this condition — but lucky that it was found when it was. Lucky that we got answers quickly. Lucky that she was listed for transplant as soon as possible. Lucky that she has stayed stable through months that could have gone very differently. Lucky that we’ve had the support network that we do. And lucky that we’re going to be able to bring our baby home.
We’re ending this year on a good note. Sabrina is stable. She’s starting to eat again. We’re looking forward — even when it feels terrifying. And we’ll keep doing whatever we have to do, with the best spirits we can, to get her to the miracle we’re hoping for: a new heart.
This is still good. We are still lucky.
Cheers to 2026 
