Some years feel expansive and celebratory. Others feel like they strip you down to the studs.
This past year was both.
It held some of the most beautiful moments of my life — and some of the most challenging seasons I’ve navigated as a founder, a mother, and a woman holding a lot of responsibility at once. Looking back, I can see it clearly now: this wasn’t a breakdown year.
It was a shedding year.
And as hard as that shedding was, it’s the reason the future feels so aligned.
The Highs: Life Expanding in the Best Ways
Welcoming Max
At the end of February, we welcomed our second son, Max, into the world — and that alone makes this year unforgettable. His birth was smooth, uncomplicated, and filled with gratitude. He was healthy, happy, and from the very beginning, so incredibly smiley and content.
Watching him grow over the past months has been a joy, but what’s been especially sweet lately is seeing the dynamic between him and his older brother, Jack, who’s four. As Max has gotten more interactive, their relationship has started to unfold in real time — curiosity, affection, little moments of connection that stop me in my tracks. There’s nothing quite like watching your children grow into each other.
Returning to Australia
Another defining high was our trip back to Australia — our first time there in two and a half years. Being back with family, immersed in the culture, and surrounded by a place that holds so much meaning for us felt deeply grounding.
The best way I can describe it is this: I felt more whole.
For a long time, that part of my life felt separate — almost like something I had to put on pause. I missed it. I craved it. I mourned it, even. Being back, even for a few weeks, stitched something back together inside me. I returned feeling more complete, more aligned, and more certain about the kind of life we want to build moving forward.
That trip didn’t just fill my cup — it clarified our vision.
The Lows: The Weight of a Long, Hard Stretch
From a business perspective, the year didn’t unfold evenly.
January was fairly average. February was strong — especially when looking at booking value, which is how I measure momentum since it creates a domino effect through payment plans and future income. But after that, things shifted.
For three to four months straight, bookings dropped significantly — about half, if not less than half, of what’s normal for us. At first, the impact was muted. I had some savings. We had recurring payments. But over time, the effect compounded. Lower inquiries meant fewer future payments, and what started as a short-term dip turned into a longer stretch of reduced income.
This coincided with a major life adjustment: learning how to find my footing with two kids.
Jack continued at Montessori, which was steady and supportive. But with a baby at home, we followed the same approach we had before — part-time nanny support. The difference was consistency. Some weeks I had two days of childcare, some weeks three, some weeks one, and occasionally none at all. It was sporadic and unpredictable, which made it incredibly challenging to establish any kind of reliable work rhythm.
At the same time, our project manager resigned for personal reasons. It wasn’t dramatic, and in many ways, I knew it was the right fit for both of us. But it meant that all client communication, all project management, and all operational oversight came back to me — on top of already limited childcare and an emotionally demanding season.
I handled it. But it was heavy.
That combination — reduced income, inconsistent support, increased responsibility — pushed almost everything else off my plate. Marketing initiatives, creative projects, forward-looking ideas all had to wait. Survival and service came first.
The Lessons: Clarity Comes From Being In It
One unexpected gift of this season was being fully back inside the business.
Acting as project manager gave me a front-row seat to what was outdated, inefficient, or no longer serving our clients or our team. I could see clearly where things were clunky, where expectations needed tightening, and where systems needed to evolve.
I made meaningful changes to our processes — changes that dramatically improved flow, communication, and overall experience. And I don’t think I could have made those calls as confidently if I hadn’t been the one doing the work day in and day out.
That’s one of my strengths: seeing patterns, diagnosing friction, and designing better systems. This season sharpened that gift.
Pressure also did what pressure often does — it forced innovation.
When everything is going well and you’re busy serving clients, there’s rarely space or urgency to think differently. But in tougher seasons, new ideas have room to emerge. Two of our most exciting developments were born directly from this year:
- DIY Pro, a more robust, supportive way for clients to use our website templates
- Our new two-week process for our most popular website package, designed to be streamlined, focused, and sustainable
Neither of these ideas would exist without the constraints of this year.
Who I Needed to Become
This year wasn’t about proving resilience. It was about embodying it.
I became a leader who let herself be supported — financially and emotionally — by my husband, even when that was hard for me. Choosing partnership over pride changed everything.
I became a calm operator instead of a panicked reactor. I’ve been through hard seasons before, so I knew this discomfort wasn’t the end. It was temporary, navigable, and meaningful.
I trusted my pattern recognition. Instead of clinging to what wasn’t working, I allowed misalignment to fall away. I didn’t give up — I discerned.
I chose focus over proving. Fewer things, done better. Depth over sprawl. Precision over noise.
Most of all, I became someone who knows — deeply — that I will get through hard seasons. Not because they aren’t hard, but because I trust myself now.
2025 was a shedding year. And the shedding was really hard. But it made space for what comes next.
The Vision: When the Dream Becomes a Plan
What’s shifted most for me this year isn’t the vision itself — it’s the energy behind it.
This lifestyle we’re building isn’t new. It’s something we’ve talked about for years. Working remotely. Designing life around family. Spending meaningful time in Australia. Creating flexibility instead of anchoring ourselves to one rigid version of “normal.”
But for a long time, it felt more like a dream than a decision.
There was always a layer of uncertainty underneath it — questions about jobs, locations, logistics, timing. We explored so many scenarios: California, Florida, Atlanta. How much time in Australia? Where would we base ourselves? What would my husband’s job require? What would the business need to look like to support it?
This year, something clicked.
Not just for me — but for Stephen too.
There’s a different kind of solidity when you’re no longer convincing someone of the vision, and instead you’re both standing in it, asking practical questions. The energy shifts from “could this work?” to “okay, how do we make this work?”
And that shift has changed everything.
For the first time, this vision feels stable, grounded, and real — not far off, not hypothetical. It feels like something we’re actively building toward, step by step, with intention.
Because of that clarity, I’m approaching this year very differently. This isn’t a year for experimentation in every direction. It’s a year for alignment.
A Year of Focus, Simplicity, and Stability
If I’m honest, what I want most right now is something very unsexy:
A boring year.
Not boring in the sense of stagnant — but boring in the sense of steady.
When I look back, almost every year has come with a major life event:
- A baby
- A wedding
- An international move
- Buying and renovating a house
- Another baby
- A major business reset
Life will always have big moments, but after years of constant transition, I’m craving rhythm.
This year, I want:
- A simple, consistent work schedule
- Fewer moving parts
- More focus on refining what already exists
- Clear priorities for the business
- Space to think long-term instead of reacting short-term
We’ll still travel — absolutely. Stephen has six weeks of paid vacation, and we use every single day of it. But outside of that, I want regularity. Structure. Predictability. A business that runs smoothly inside real life.
This year is about honing in, not branching out. Fine-tuning instead of overhauling. Building in a way that supports the life we’re committed to creating — together.
Closing: What This Year Made Possible
This year took a lot from me.
But it also gave me something invaluable: clarity, confidence, and conviction.
It showed me that shedding isn’t failure — it’s preparation. That stability isn’t boring — it’s powerful. And that when vision moves from one person’s dream to a shared commitment, everything accelerates in the right direction.
I’m entering this next chapter steadier than I’ve ever been — not because everything is perfect, but because it’s aligned.
And that makes all the difference.
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