I Didn't Need More Followers. I Needed More People.

When I first dreamed of creating The Green House, I knew one thing immediately.

I couldn't build it alone.

The vision was simply too big.

We needed to raise $2.5 million. We needed architects, builders, designers, landscapers, furniture companies, volunteers, donors, and people willing to believe that grieving families deserve something better than what currently exists.

Carlisle had already wrapped our family in extraordinary love after William died. Our community has carried us in ways I will never be able to repay. But I also knew something difficult: this dream was bigger than one town.

If we wanted to build the first retreat home in the country designed specifically for families after the death of a child or parent, I needed our community to become much, much larger.

So I did something that felt incredibly uncomfortable.

I started showing up on Instagram.

Not as an organization.

Not with polished marketing.

Just as me.

A bereaved mom trying to figure out how to carry one child who died while raising two children who are very much alive. I wrote. I filmed reels. I shared the hard days and the hopeful ones. I talked about William. I talked about grief. I talked about motherhood. I talked about purpose.

At first, I worried what people would think.

Was I sharing too much?

Would people roll their eyes?

Would they think I was looking for attention?

Those fears slowly disappeared.

Because something much more important happened.

People found us.

Our builder, Sam Soderholm, found me on Instagram before generously offering to help lead this renovation.

One of our largest donors found me on Instagram.

People Magazine found me on Instagram.

The New York Times found me Instagram.

Thousands of bereaved parents found me on Instagram.

Many of the people now cheering for The Green House had never heard of William's Be Yourself Challenge before they stumbled across a post about grief, love, or motherhood.

What started as sharing my life became a community.

And community changes everything.

Today, we've raised nearly one million dollars toward building The Green House. We've purchased the home. We've assembled an incredible team of partners. More companies continue to reach out, asking how they can help.

None of that happened because I became an influencer.

It happened because I became willing to be seen.

Authenticity has a funny way of finding the people who are meant to walk alongside you.

The internet certainly has its share of negativity. Every now and then someone leaves a cruel comment. But those voices are tiny compared to the thousands of people who have chosen kindness, encouragement, generosity, and hope. The mission is simply too important to let fear of criticism keep me quiet.

So I keep showing up.

Not because I have all the answers.

But because grieving families deserve this house, this voice.

If you've been following along, sharing our posts, making a donation, telling a friend, introducing us to someone in your network, or simply cheering us on from afar, you've become part of this story.

Every person who shares our mission widens the circle.

And that's exactly how something impossible slowly becomes possible.

The Green House has never really been about building a house. It's about building a community large enough to hold grieving families when they need it most.

Thank you for helping us build both.