Happy New Year and welcome back. I hope you had a restful holiday—our family enjoyed a quiet break, visiting relatives, taking time to recharge, and tackling projects around the house.
To start 2020 I wanted to share my annual recap of 2019. If you’re new here, past recaps include 2015: “The Year of Growing Pains,” 2016: “The Year of Failure,” 2017: “The Best Year of My Life,” 2018: “The Year I Realized I Was Building A Life I Didn’t Want,” and 2019 felt like “The Year of Resistance.”
For weeks I’d been thinking of that word to sum up the year, and then I read a post by a friend who ended with a simple, powerful line: “2019 taught me I can do hard things.” That sentence helped me reframe how I wanted to talk about the year, so I’ll start there.
At the end of 2018 I discarded the life I had planned and began again. Entering 2019 was exciting and hopeful, but I underestimated how difficult starting over would be. I thrive on long-term goals and a clear plan, and suddenly I had neither. I used to have a team depending on me for consistency, and that accountability kept me moving forward. Without it, making and keeping momentum felt harder than I expected.
This year I stumbled—sometimes in public, sometimes in private. Resetting life at 30, parenting a trauma-exposed toddler, renovating a house, relocating a business, and living far from family tested me in ways I didn’t anticipate. On top of all that, my work requires me to share pieces of my life publicly, which added pressure when things were fragile.
We also experienced deep personal loss. Our family mourned four future siblings for Arlo this year. I can’t share the details of most of these stories, but one was a miscarriage this summer—my third since we began trying to grow our family. It began with an unexpected pregnancy while we were actively pursuing adoption, and at first the medical news seemed hopeful. After a few weeks, though, there was no heartbeat. This was the hardest miscarriage I’ve had; the physical and emotional aftermath lasted nearly three months.
We had been set to match with an expectant mother the day I learned I was pregnant, so we withdrew from that match. In feeling, we lost two babies at once. It was brutal and it remains a deep ache for our family.
There were many other difficult moments I can’t write about here. Not being able to share parts of our story has been challenging, because I often heal by talking and connecting. Beyond my own struggles, I watched friends and family face sudden loss, serious diagnoses, racist incidents, toxic workplaces, and other heavy burdens. The cumulative weight of personal and national hardships made 2019 feel endlessly heavy.
Even so, I grew more in 2019 than in any year I can remember. I learned a lot about myself, my priorities, and the changes I need to make for the future—both personally and for the next generation. I learned about the adoption community, about communication in business and marriage, about parenting, and about seeking and accepting help. Those lessons matter.
One of the best decisions I made was to change my work and life structure before many of 2019’s challenges arrived. Those changes allowed me to be present with Arlo and prioritize family in ways I’m grateful for. I have no regrets about the career and life shifts I made in 2018; they helped me weather the storm in 2019.
2019 was meant to be a year of transition and discovery, and it was exactly that—even if I didn’t arrive where I expected. I’ve learned that life rarely follows the timeline you plan, and that’s okay.
Heading into 2020 I’m thankful for those lessons. I plan to focus on small, intentional changes in both my business and personal life—achievable habits that compound over time. I’m committed to the boundaries I’ve established for my family, to the people I choose to surround myself with, and to being more aware of what the world needs from me.
As the year ended I found clarity and creative energy. In 2020 I want to share what inspires me—baby names, Moroccan rugs, Disneyland adventures, dream homes, small business stories, eco-friendly swaps, kids’ rooms, family traditions, and more. I’ve spent years trying to build a tight “brand,” but now I’m allowing myself to step outside that box and follow what feels authentic. I’m curious to see where that leads.
Small goals, small shifts, big impact—that’s my motto for 2020.
I’m deeply grateful for this community and for the support, encouragement, and kindness you’ve shown while I figured things out. Your thoughtful comments have meant a great deal to me.
Here’s to a new year. We can do hard things and get through them together. I’m glad you’re here.