Haley

Permission Slip

One of my goals for last year and this year has been to write something at least once per month. The last time I posted anything here was on January 2nd, so I’ve already slipped a bit. Oops. I’ve been telling myself that because I published four posts in January, I am still averaging over one per month, so it counts. At this stage, that’s the kind of flexibility I need. I simply don’t have the capacity to add any unnecessary pressure to my life.

I like pressure. I’m nothing if not routine-oriented. That’s why I’ve given myself a goal of a monthly post in the first place. Without some sort of deadline, a task ceases to exist to me. Since July of last year, I’ve made twelve posts on this blog, and you know what? I am damn proud of that.

Still, something about this space does not feel quite right. Even though it is completely mine, I have been overthinking and overcomplicating it. That’s something I’ve been known to do before and I’ll go ahead and guess that it’s going to happen again. Luckily for me (and for everyone in my life,) when I get like this, I usually snap out of it in a moment of sudden clarity. That’s kind of what’s happening here.

I’ve realized that the thing preventing me from even attempting to write something is nothing more than pesky perfectionism. I tell myself that if what I have to say is even slightly unpolished, I should wait until I’m feeling less scattered, frustrated, manic, overwhelmed, goofy, tired, etc. Except, well, you know. That moment rarely comes at a time when I can drop everything to go write a blog post. So…here I am! More than two full months into the new year, resetting some expectations with myself on how this goal should look and feel.

I keep thinking about how tiny kids make friends so easily. They’re weird, they’re loud, and they haven’t developed a filter yet. Part of why kids are so funny is because their thoughts go straight from brain to mouth with no hesitation and no second-guessing. They call it like it is.

Then, those kids get a bit older and they start to care more about what everyone around them thinks. They may alter their behavior a bit to avoid being different from their peers. Any parent of school-aged children know that when kids come home at the end of the day, they unleash the most chaotic, emotional versions of themselves. They’ve been holding in their initial reactions and their big feelings all day and as soon as they’re in their safe place, they can be their full selves again, warts and all.

People have always said that as you get older, you get more confident in yourself and you stop caring as much about external opinions. For me, that has proven to be true – and yet I do still feel the pressure to deliver the most polished version of myself. I doubt that will change in most areas of my life, but at least here, at Deep Roots | Full Bloom, I am giving myself permission to “bring my full self.”

This is my permission slip to myself to write what’s on my mind and to do it for me first. I love having you here, but I think we will all enjoy this space more if I let go of some of the polish and lean into more honesty.

Thanks for being here.

Q4 2024 Reflections: Purpose Through Presence

The final quarter of 2024 was about grounding myself in purpose and living with intention. These months challenged me to step into the present, balance my adaptability with authenticity, and embrace the magic I bring to the people who matter most. As the year came to a close, I was reminded that true progress starts with showing up—with all the vulnerability, effort, and love that requires.

October: Be who you needed.

By October, I had taken stock of my year and asked myself, “How can I bring what I’ve learned to others?” I decided to let go of self-doubt and comparisons and focus on living in the present—just the present. Not the past, not the future, but right here, right now. Choosing to stay in the moment requires thought and effort on my part. As someone who has always been a planner and naturally reflective, this hasn’t come easily. I’m still growing in this area, but I’ve asked my peers to hold me accountable, and it’s making a difference.

I started reflecting on the challenges I’ve faced as a trainer, leader, and working parent. Then, I began talking about it. I shared stories with peers during mentorship sessions, gave specific advice rooted in my experiences, and showed up as someone I needed during my own struggles. It’s not always easy to be vulnerable, but I’ve learned that the best way to grow yourself—and others—is to show up and share your truth.

November: Balancing Adaptability with Authenticity.

By November, I had gained a deeper understanding of the toll that balancing adaptability and conviction can take. My years of leadership development taught me to focus on what works best for the collective group, and I approached situations with flexibility to meet the team’s needs. However, my adaptable approach was sometimes perceived as indecision, which required me to reprioritize direct communication and be more intentional with every message. While this effort led to results, it often felt one-sided, as I didn’t always experience the same willingness to adapt from others.

In 2025, I plan to foster a culture of shared flexibility, where collaboration and progress come from mutual effort. Adapting takes work, but it’s most effective when all team members contribute equally to meeting in the middle. This year has shown me how much growth is possible when adaptability and respect are embraced collectively, and I’m committed to continuing this work with my team.

December: To my kids, I am magic.

As the year winds down, I’ve taken my usual week off to spend time with my family. Upstairs, my twins are loudly resisting bedtime, and my 4-year-old is happily glued to my side. We’ve just wrapped up a beautiful Christmas, and as I reflect, I’m struck by how different life feels from this time last year. The trials of this year pushed me to my limits, yet in my kids’ eyes, I am magic. They see me as their light, their safe place, their constant—and they don’t need me to prove it.

I don’t have to convince them of my worth or explain my value; they feel it in everything I do for them. Heading into 2025, I hope to carry that reminder with me: my worth isn’t defined by anyone else’s standards but by the love I bring to my home and family. As long as I’m keeping our home happy, safe, and wrapped in love, I am succeeding. My kids remind me that I am magic, and I hope to honor that gift every day in the year ahead.

Closing Thoughts: Ending the Year With Intention

The final quarter of 2024 reminded me of the power of showing up—with honesty, adaptability, and purpose. Whether it’s sharing your experiences to help others, adapting to meet challenges head-on, or simply being present for the people you love, progress begins when you’re willing to give your full self to the moment.

As I reflect on the year as a whole, I see how each quarter built upon the last. Transitions taught me resilience, self-awareness strengthened my purpose, discomfort led to growth, and presence helped me find clarity in what matters most. Each season of 2024 brought its own unique lessons, and together they shaped a year of transformation.

Heading into 2025, I’m carrying these lessons with me: to focus on what truly matters, to lead with authenticity, and to honor the magic I bring to the lives of those around me. Growth doesn’t stop at the end of a calendar year—it’s a continuous process, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to embrace it with intention and courage.

Q3 2024 Reflections: Growth Through Discomfort

The third quarter of 2024 was all about navigating discomfort and finding growth on the other side. These months forced me to face hard truths, lean into courage, and accept that change—whether personal or professional—takes time. Growth doesn’t come from avoiding discomfort; it comes from embracing it and allowing yourself the grace to evolve.

July: Therapy is hard.

As helpful as therapy has been, I can’t pretend it’s always something I look forward to. I’ve held (and still hold) a lot of resentment about my birth experience with the twins, and their hospitalization last year turned us into hermits, constantly feeling like the world was dangerous for our babies. My therapist has made me sit with some of the most anxiety-inducing, stressful, and painful moments of my life. There have been weeks when I’ve dreaded my appointment.

I feel like I could talk to her forever, but our first focus was preparing me for the anniversaries of the complicated birth and hospitalization. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m so glad I’ve been putting in the work. My kids deserve a mom who can handle her complicated emotions—and dammit, I deserve that freedom, too.

August: It’s better to speak up and be wrong than stay silent and be right.

In August, I faced a complicated situation at work that taught me an invaluable lesson. A colleague shared something with me that surprised and unsettled me. It could have been a bad joke or an exaggeration, but I couldn’t shake it. After hours of second-guessing myself, I finally texted my leader that night to share my concerns. She listened, validated my perspective, and encouraged me to act.

I brought others into the conversation and explained why I felt it was necessary to investigate. In the end, it turned out to be a lapse in judgment on my coworker’s part—but I’m proud I spoke up. I stayed true to myself by honoring my thought process and emotions. I’m a deep thinker, a critical thinker, and I trust my intuition. Instead of overthinking, I leaned into those traits and made a decision that prioritized the safety and well-being of my colleague, even though it was uncomfortable.

This experience reminded me that courage isn’t about certainty; it’s about trusting yourself to do what’s right, even when it feels difficult.

September: You can’t return unchanged.

When I returned to work in January, it may have seemed like I was simply picking up where I left off. But the reality was much more complicated. During my time away, I brought twins into the world, nearly lost them to RSV, and faced brushes with death myself. I came back physically present but mentally transformed. My carefully crafted five-year plan had led me to a leadership role I worked so hard to earn—only for it to be gone the week I left for maternity leave. I thought I’d bounce back quickly, but it became clear that “bouncing back” wasn’t an attainable—or even desirable—goal when the person I was returning as had changed so much.

By September, I began to realize that acclimating takes time—and that’s okay. We can’t bounce back to who we were; we must adapt forward to who we’re becoming. It took me a long while to accept that this year wasn’t about reclaiming the version of myself I had been; it was about stepping into who I am now. Growth doesn’t happen on anyone’s timeline but your own. I’ve learned to let go of the idea of “bouncing back” and instead embrace the process of moving forward, even if it’s slower and messier than I expected.

Closing Thoughts: Growth Isn’t Easy, But It’s Worth It

This quarter reminded me that growth and discomfort go hand in hand. Therapy forced me to face hard truths about myself, and speaking up at work taught me the power of trusting my intuition. I also had to accept that returning to a familiar space doesn’t mean returning unchanged—it means finding new ways to thrive.

Stay tuned for lessons learned in Q4, where purpose and presence took center stage. Growth is rarely comfortable, but it’s always meaningful—and this quarter proved just how much is possible when you lean into it.

Q2 2024 Reflections: Strength Through Self-Awareness

The second quarter of 2024 taught me the power of self-awareness. From managing the chaos of parenting to making meaningful decisions and prioritizing my mental health, these months challenged me to dig deeper into who I am and what I value. It was a season of recognizing my own resilience, trusting my instincts, and seeking the clarity I needed to move forward.

April: Resilience and consistency keep working parents going.

By this point in the year, I’d been back at work for nearly three months, and my kids still weren’t sleeping through the night. Sleepless nights are part of parenting, but months of running on 2-4 hours of sleep had me questioning my sanity. After my birthday in March, I bragged to coworkers about the full night of sleep I finally got, thanks to Evan taking the babies downstairs. Some didn’t get why I was so excited, but it was life-changing—my first uninterrupted sleep since the third trimester.

Even though we’re getting better sleep now, we’ve learned that a strong routine is the key to keeping our family on track. We have to get up, get going, and keep going until the last kid is in bed and we’ve managed the basics for ourselves, like eating dinner and stealing a moment of time together. There’s no time to waste, and consistency makes it all possible. Looking back, I’m amazed at the stamina it took to function during those harder months, but I’m proud of the resilience and discipline that have carried us through.

May: Quick Doesn’t Mean Thoughtless

At the end of April, I surprised myself by getting a tattoo of the Tiffany lamp that sat in my grandparents’ home. Normally, I’m a planner who deliberates over every decision, but when I saw a similar design online, I knew instantly it was what I wanted. I booked the artist on the spot.

In May, as I reflected on that moment, I realized the decision wasn’t impulsive—it was deeply aligned. I’d been thinking about honoring my grandparents for years, and when the right design appeared, I acted. This experience taught me that acting quickly doesn’t mean acting thoughtlessly. It means trusting yourself when everything falls into place.

June: Therapy is cool.

This year, I found a therapist who I really connected with—someone who has been helping me process the birth trauma and anxiety I’ve been carrying. At one point, I took a step back and said to myself, “I’ve gone through an overwhelming amount of change in the last year, and I don’t think I’m handling it as well as I could be.” I knew I was doing the best I could, but it’s impossible to gain perspective when you’re in the deep end.

Therapy has been an immeasurably helpful tool for me. It’s given me space to untangle the emotions I’d been pushing aside and to better understand myself in this new phase of life. Sometimes, the hardest part is admitting that you need help—but when you find the right person to guide you through it, the relief and clarity are undeniable. Therapy really is cool.

Closing Thoughts: Embracing Self-Awareness

This quarter was a reminder that self-awareness isn’t just a nice-to-have—it’s essential. Whether it’s recognizing your resilience as a parent, trusting your instincts when a decision feels right, or seeking professional help to process life’s challenges, the ability to connect with yourself makes all the difference. These months taught me to trust myself more deeply and to prioritize clarity, even when the path forward isn’t easy.

Stay tuned for lessons learned in Q3, where discomfort and growth took center stage. Each quarter brought its own unique challenges, but with every step, I moved closer to becoming the best version of myself.

Q1 2024 Reflections: in Resilience Through Transitions

One thing not everyone may know about me is that I am deeply reflective. Read: I think… nonstop. The end of the year is often when I reflect the most, taking stock of what I’ve learned, how I’ve grown, and where I’ve struggled. This year, being full of lessons, challenges, and growth, has given me plenty to think about. As I look back on the first quarter of 2024, I’m reminded that transitions and adaptability weren’t just themes—they were necessities. Here’s what those months taught me.

January: Emotions shape resilience.

On January 24th, I returned to work after maternity leave—delayed by my twins’ RSV hospitalization in December. The transition brought nerves from all sides. At home, I felt the weight of leaving my babies after such a scary time. At work, I faced a reorganization that had dissolved the team I once led, returning me to my former role as an Executive Trainer.

Excitement carried me into the office, eager to reconnect with my professional self, but emotions ran high. By 4:00 on my first day, I was in tears during a 1:1 with a close friend, and many commutes home were spent crying in my car, processing the overwhelm. Still, my optimism helped me persevere. When emotions align with purpose, they become a source of resilience, carrying you through even the toughest transitions.

February: Tradition doesn’t have to make sense.

My sister and I take four sister days each year—one for every season. This winter’s was a perfect way to celebrate one of my favorite things: Leap Day! We wore ridiculous sweatshirts inspired by my comfort show, 30 Rock, that were totally outside our usual fashion sense. It almost felt like we were in costume, which meant we giggled about it all day. Per usual for a sister day, we went to a Mexican restaurant and shared some queso and margaritas while trying not to cry laugh when we noticed people noticing us.

Maybe the loudest thing about me right now is that I am a working mom of three. I feel like I say it or think it constantly, but hey – it’s pretty damn all-consuming, so you’ll forgive me. In this “season,” it can feel impossible to take a day off that I don’t absolutely need. With three kids in daycare, there are already so many sick days to juggle. But tradition is worth protecting. These days give us a chance to connect, uninterrupted, and do whatever we feel like—whether it’s running errands, making an elaborate cheesecake, or laughing over queso. It’s always time well spent.

March: What was isn’t what is.

Returning to a familiar-yet-changed business area was disorienting, to say the least. I had only been away for a year, but reorganization after reorganization meant almost nothing and no one were as I had left them. It felt like I was in the Upside-Down version of my job—just without the slimy monsters and with better lighting.

My personal life had undergone massive changes, but so had everyone else’s. I’m only the main character in my own life; everyone I worked with had likely faced their own struggles, shifts, and challenges that shaped them over the past year. Relationships were different, the people I leaned on at work had shifted, and dynamics I’d once relied on no longer felt the same. Even my own goals and definition of success had changed, yet two months in, I still couldn’t fully define them.

I had excelled as a trainer for years, but this new environment felt foreign. My new leader valued very different things than my previous leaders, and processes that had always worked for me suddenly didn’t. Adapting hasn’t been easy, and I still have moments where I feel out of place. But I’m proud of the work I’ve put in to build culture on my team and to lead from where I am, even without a formal leadership title. This year has tested my agility and adaptability, and though I miss the leadership role I once held, I’ve grown in ways I didn’t foresee.

Closing Thoughts: Finding Strength in Transition

The first quarter of 2024 was a lesson in navigating transitions with resilience and adaptability. It was a period of emotional highs and lows, of rediscovering myself at work and at home, and of leaning into traditions that remind me of who I am.

Stay tuned for lessons learned in Q2, Q3, and Q4—each quarter brought its own unique challenges, reflections, and growth that I can’t wait to share!

Rekindling Confidence Through Connection

Earlier this month, as I was walking into work, I ran into a woman I had trained a few years ago. Our paths had crossed many times before, but it had been a long while since we’d last seen each other. We greeted each other with an enthusiastic hug and then tried to catch up on four years in four minutes. She was surprised to hear that I now had three kids. Upon learning this, she offered me some unexpected validation that I didn’t even know I needed.

“Oh my gosh! I bet you are the best mom! You have always been so good at taking care of people!”

She continued with such genuine enthusiasm, one of my favorite things in a person, sharing how my humor, patience, and empathy had helped her grow over the years. She gave specific examples of how a piece of coaching I had shared had become an integral part of her decision-making process. There I was, standing on Woodward Ave at 8:40 AM, stunned by this heartfelt outpouring of gratitude. It made me feel so seen, appreciated, and valued—it’s a feeling that has stayed with me ever since.

I shared a bit of this story on my other social media accounts, and what happened next surprised me even more. Dozens of past trainees and business partners reached out, sharing how I had impacted their journeys and successes. The experience was humbling, emotional, eye-opening, and energizing.

What these kind people didn’t know was that this year has been one of significant growth for me—which is basically synonymous with discomfort, isn’t it? Impostor syndrome has been a familiar companion this year, and I’ve found myself second-guessing what I once felt confident about. Thankfully, that is starting to change.

As the smoke clears and I regain my confidence, this moment reminded me of something important: no matter where I’ve found myself, I’ve always prioritized taking care of my people. It’s so deeply a part of who I am that I hardly notice it, but hearing that others do felt like a huge hug. Learning about the specific ways I’ve impacted others’ lives was exactly the reminder I needed.

The end of the year always brings a sense of reflection. I find myself flipping through my calendars, both personal and professional, asking: Who did I see? What did I work on? Which relationships did I nurture? What did I learn? I look back at photos on my phone, remembering weeknight dinners, evolving baby faces, cute outfits, and date nights.

‘Tis the season of annual reviews and holiday card blurbs. This moment won’t make it into either, but it will stay with me for a long time—maybe even forever. As I look ahead to 2025, I have this to carry with me when I’m faced with tough spots: I am the best mom and I am so good at taking care of people.

Developing the Negatives

Hanging on one of the walls in my home is a trilogy of photos. The first is of my sister holding her daughter, Anna, the day she was born. I’m in the photo, too—smiling over my sister’s shoulder, thrilled to be meeting my niece. The next is a photo of me holding my daughter, Rosalie, on her birthday. My husband, Evan, is gazing at our sweet, perfect new baby, while I’m giving the camera a tired but content smile. The final photo in that trio is of me holding my twin nephews, Alex and Max, on the day they were born. I love this photo wall, but it also makes me very, very sad.

Why?

Well, I had every intention of adding one more photo to that set. I imagined a photo of Evan and me, each holding one of our newborn twins. Teary, smiley, tired—another momentous and joyful moment for our family, right alongside the others. Seems like a simple enough goal, but it didn’t end up happening.

My birth story with my twins is a bit brutal. Despite signs of worsening pre-eclampsia, my medical team either missed or ignored the severity until a routine non-stress test became urgent. Even though my induction was scheduled for a few days later, I was told that wasn’t fast enough. It was no longer safe for me to be pregnant. At 37 weeks, Ivy and Owen were born with underdeveloped lungs, which landed them in the NICU immediately after delivery. While they were whisked away to receive medical attention, I was rolled into a recovery room to slowly make my way out of anesthesia.

Evan was told he could go see the twins “soon,” but nobody came back in the room for hours. When they did finally come to get us, they shared news that nobody wants to hear. The babies were struggling to breathe, and it was likely to be a very hard path ahead.

The two weeks that followed were among the scariest of my life. Ivy and Owen were hooked up to tubes, wires, and sensors that beeped relentlessly. I was separated from all of my kids. Rosalie wasn’t allowed to visit due to hospital visitation restrictions, and the babies were in the NICU instead of right next to my hospital bed. I remember touching my post-delivery stomach and bursting into tears dozens of times because I craved being with my babies. It didn’t make sense to my body that they were both out of my body and out of my room.

My severe pre-eclampsia only continued to get worse post-delivery, and it wasn’t responsive to any medications or treatments. My blood pressure got so high that they padded the rails of my bed and told me I had to stay on complete bedrest. I remember the sheer sensory hell of that 24-hour window. One arm had the blood pressure cuff, set to go off every 15 minutes. One arm had my IV. Both legs had those inflatable cuffs to help avoid blood clots. They moved me to the room closest to the nurse’s station and told me, “Don’t worry, honey! We have you here so we can run right in if something happens!” Somehow, that wasn’t very comforting.

When I was off bedrest, I would visit my babies in the NICU as often as I could, but I was unwell. My stamina was practically nonexistent. Recovering from major surgery and dealing with the chaos of postpartum hormones while my health remained unstable made everything harder. One day—maybe two or three days after giving birth—I was determined to spend the entire day with my babies in the NICU. On that day, I developed the worst headache of my life. The searing hot pain spread from my head to my neck and shoulders, and once again—nothing helped. I was crying so hard, devastated that I had to leave the NICU because something was clearly wrong with me.

That headache? It turned out to be caused by a hole in my spinal cord, caused by the spinal block I had received for my c-section. I had been leaking spinal fluid. The more fluid I lost, the lower my “headache” would travel. I had to get an unexpected and stressful procedure done to fix that.

I didn’t get to spend real time with my babies for several days after they were born. I wasn’t able to hold them for days. When I finally did, we were haggard and emotionally broken. There are very few photos from this time that convey positive emotions. Almost all of them are hard for me to look at because they reflect the reality of that fear and exhaustion. Wires, tubes, frail babies, and wrung-out parents.

We finally made it through that and welcomed our babies home in September. In December, we underwent another hospitalization for the babies when they both contracted RSV. One day, I’ll write another post about how my babies were whisked to Children’s Hospital in the back of an ambulance just three months after they first came home. Today is not that day, but trust me when I say it was a nightmare that compounded our trauma. We made it home just in time to celebrate the twins’ first Christmas as a family. That was a huge relief, but the experience left us shaken. We became shut-ins, doing everything we could to try and avoid more health scares.

Back in January of this year, I won a photo giveaway contest on Instagram. An old friend of mine has become a fantastic photographer since our days of doing community theatre together, and I was incredibly excited when my name was announced as the winner of a free family photo session she was offering. After a year of such intensely emotional experiences, it felt almost ridiculous to admit that one of my lasting painful memories was the fact that I didn’t have any photos of me with my newest little loves that made me feel happy, but it was true.

Last weekend, we finally cashed in on our photo shoot, and receiving those pictures has brought me more healing than I had expected. I was expecting to love them, of course… but I wasn’t expecting it to feel like the closing of a hard chapter.

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In these photos, I don’t see frail, sick babies, and I don’t see scared, exhausted parents. There are no wires, tubes, blood pressure cuffs, or puffy, swollen eyes. I don’t feel the anxiety and trauma that have filled our home and our hearts since my pregnancy started getting scary. All I see is our sweet family—big smiles, loud laughs, and connection.

I will never have the hospital photos I had imagined. I will never complete that trilogy of photos. It’s simply not how things panned out, and accepting the fact that I wasn’t able to get something so simple was hard. I needed some help putting that vision in the past. Julie—if you’re reading this, thank you so much. You’ve given me such a gift that extends beyond the beautiful photos.

Next month, we’re going to recreate our picture wall. We’ll print some of these gorgeous new family photos, take down the trilogy, and dedicate that space to another part of our art collection. Our new gallery wall will include all those smiling faces I love to see—Anna, Alex, Max, Rosalie, Ivy, and Owen—and some classic family photos I inherited from my grandparents. It will be a beautiful way to move forward, putting the ache behind me and embracing the truth: hardship may lie in the past, but there’s comfort in the present. And my goodness, we are really good at getting through some tough shit together.

All photos by Julienne Marie Photography.

Cheers to Lives Well-Witnessed: My Toast for the Newlyweds

Last week, my husband and I traveled to Arizona so I could stand up in the wedding of one of my best friends. From the night she asked me to be her maid of honor back in 2022, I started thinking about what I would say in my speech. Well, last Saturday was the big day, and people from all over the country came to support this couple! We had guests from Michigan, Illinois, Kentucky, New Jersey, Montana, Arizona, Washington, Hawaii, Alabama, Florida, and probably more states I’m forgetting. Together, in an absolutely GORGEOUS garden venue, we got to witness them take their next step into marriage.

After I delivered my speech to all the guests (including several of my genuinely esteemed leaders, mentors, and friends from my professional life), I received so many lovely compliments. My husband even told me a few times that watching me give my speech was the highlight of our vacation for him. An admittedly small group of people have been asking to see my speech, so I figured I’d share it here. I was so proud and honored to be a part of this wedding, and I hope you can feel the love I have for them through my words.

Hello everyone, and thank you so much for being here. We may not have walked into this event knowing everyone, but we all have something in common: we got to be here at the very beginning of this marriage. We got to bear witness to this union because of the roles we play in the lives of these two amazing people.

I’m Haley, and I’ve had the gift of having Kristen as a close friend for almost ten years now. We met at work, immediately bonded over our love for our nieces and nephews, and I’ve had a ride-or-die friend ever since. I’m fortunate enough to feel her impact in my personal and professional life, which means I have maybe too much to say about her. Fair warning here: I’m not particularly known for being concise. I’m a wordy gal. For your sakes, I’ve challenged myself to keep my message simple. Wish us all luck!

Kristen is an overt optimist. She is an artist. She is a giver. She is a margarita connoisseur. She is a believer in kindness, service, and gratitude. She is the person who, on my wedding day, flew into the role of day-of coordinator with zero notice because the day was crumbling. Despite my cake literally falling apart in the car on the way to my venue, my flowers and centerpieces being delivered super late, and a whole slew of tiny fires that needed to be put out, I walked into my reception completely unaware that any of it had even happened. Kristen is a savior of days, and at times, I’d even call her a miracle worker. I know that at least half of this room knows exactly how I felt when she told me back in 2018 that she was moving to Tucson. I didn’t want her to go! That’s my girl! That’s my bestie! Still, I knew she was creating the life she hoped for, and I was excited for her.

When she told me she had met someone, I was automatically both happy for her and, to be honest, slightly skeptical. Who was this guy? What were his intentions with my girl? Maybe it was the fact that I was firmly in my motherhood era and my protective mama bear nature was coming out, but optimistic givers like Kristen can sometimes find themselves in situations where they give more than they get. I decided to visit and check this new guy out a few years ago.

What I found when I arrived was a man who was just as enamored by Kristen’s sparkle as the rest of her friends and family are. I got to be a quiet observer of their love story as they took me around Tucson to show me their favorite places. Stephen and I met each other and learned a bit more about one another, and by the time I left, I had a new person in my life. Kristen doesn’t know this, but I teared up as my flight took off back to Detroit. I knew I was leaving my friend in excellent hands with a man who admired and encouraged her to take care of herself as much as she takes care of those around her.

Fast forward to today, and look at what they’ve built together. I truly want everyone to take a moment and look around you—faces you know, faces you don’t—all unified today as we watch them take this next step in their journey together.

When two people are getting married, something they often hear is, “Marriage is tough, but so worth it.” Now, I just celebrated my sixth anniversary with my incredible husband, Evan, and while I don’t claim to be an expert on marriage, I will tell you that from my experience and perspective so far, I completely disagree.

Marriage is a promise to bear witness to the life of another. It is a promise that no matter what happens—what curveballs life sends your way, the ups, the downs, the elation and devastation—I will witness you. I will love you. I will be here for you and help you through it all. You will not face any of it alone because I promise to be right by your side. I’m not saying that it will always be easy—what I’m saying is that when approached holistically and realistically, marriage is a strength. Life is what gets hard, not marriage. LIFE is what gets tough—and that’s when your bond has the opportunity to become even stronger.

Kristen, Stephen, I want you two to look at each other. I know you already said your vows, but I’m going to be bossy for a second and make you say a few more things. Married couples who are feeling festive, you are welcome to join me! Look at each other and repeat after me:

Through whatever is to come, I will be your witness.

I will protect your heart.

I will be your voice of reason and your biggest cheerleader.

I will give it to you straight, but always with kindness.

I will honor you by communicating my needs openly.

I promise to take care of myself so I can take care of you with a full heart.

I will hold you accountable.

I will love you and honor you with every breath.

Everyone, please raise your glasses and join me in celebrating the new Mr. and Mrs. Thamann! Congratulations!

More Than Mine

Two weeks ago, there was an event in honor of my grandfather at a local art gallery. We lost my grandpa nearly two years ago, and he had such a profound impact on his community that I now get to admire a mural that was painted in his honor. It is on display in the city in which he lived and worked – and for a man who spent a lot of time worrying over the future he was providing for his family and his community, I think that’s pretty damn close to miraculous.

The artist who painted it, Jeremy, made limited edition prints of his mural of my grandfather. My copy will hang on the photo wall I’m creating in my home, modeled after the one I admired in my grandparents’ home. It will hang near the art I inherited from him and my grandma. It is a surreal experience for me and to put it as plainly as I can, it’s very moving. I am a bit overwhelmed by it all.

The fact that my grandfather had this ripple effect on his community inspired me to get some of my thoughts out. I wrote this, and while it’s never going to be possible to fully articulate my feelings – hey, it’s a start.

I can’t be the expert on my grandfather.
I can’t because his life was so much more than the parts I got to observe.
I can’t measure the weight of his impact
On his friends. His sons. His dainty duck.
I can’t even measure the impact he had on me, though I know it was substantial.
I cannot possibly know the ways he both blessed and befuddled his neighbors.

What I do know is that he was observant and obstinate.
What I do know is that he was particular. Exacting. Meticulous. Firm.
His humor: quick and dry.

I was lucky enough to know him on a different level than most.
To most of you, he was a colleague. A boss. A mentor. A landlord. A partner. A leader.
He was sharp and resolved. He was so often RIGHT, if not incredibly stubborn.
That man who you knew better than to get into an argument with, if at all avoidable.

I was able to live with my grandfather in my life until I was 32 years old.
Three plus decades of influence from this man.
Three decades of watching him conduct classical music with one hand,
A glass of vodka or red wine in the other hand.
Three decades of his booming voice cheering for the Lions on Thanksgiving.
Three decades of him sitting at the head of my parents’ dining room table and sharing stories from when my dad and uncles were kids.
Three decades of seeing him smile through his retellings of favorite memories.
Mischief. Nostalgia. Wit.
Eight plus decades of experiences, stories, lessons, and values to pass down to his people.

Above all else, he wanted to see his community and his family thrive.
He wanted to provide stability for the people and places he loved.
He aimed to uphold the highest of standards.
He strived to create a legacy that outlived him.
And he did.

His legacy is woven into the fabric of our family,
Threads of resilience, humor, meticulous care.
Doing whatever it takes to provide for our people.
An intrinsic need to better our communities.

I miss him.
I had him longer than many have their grandfathers,
But when you admire someone so much,
There is no such thing as enough time.
I could have had a thousand more family dinners with him,
I should have asked a million more questions.

I miss hearing his “way to gos” and “attagirls.”
But the truth is, I still hear them.
Every accomplishment.
Every life lesson learned.
His influence is ever-present, in ways big and small.
The decisions I make.
The way I strive to live my life with integrity.

Attagirl, Haley!
I hope it never goes away.

Portrait in Progress

I have known I’ve wanted children from the time I was a child myself. I remember coming up with potential names for my two hypothetical girls and discussing them with my cousins and my sister. As I kept growing up and having a stronger picture of what I wanted my life to look like, kids were always in the picture. People laugh when I tell them this, but a couple of weeks into dating my husband, we were sitting at the bar at Brew Detroit, and I told him that marriage and children were important to me.

“I am having a lot of fun with you and I really like spending time with you, but these things are non-negotiables for me. I don’t need them right now, but if you don’t also want that in your future, it might be best for us to cool it.”

Is that a direct quote? Absolutely not. This was several dark beers deep and also nearly 10 years ago, but this was the gist. And well, I already told you he was my husband, so you can see how that ended up.

When I told this to some of my friends, they laughed and told me things like, “Oh my gosh, you are too much!” I’ve heard this kind of expression my entire life. I am too much. Intense. High octane. A lot. Sometimes, people said it with big smiles on their faces. Other times, people said it with judgment and overt irritation. Either way, it’s true. I have a “big personality.”

An important thing to know about me: I am a type-A control queen. I have a vision for my life, and I do everything I can to make that vision a reality, whether that’s in my personal or professional life. When my husband and I decided it was time to start the parenthood journey, I had a whole plan. I made budget spreadsheets to see what was feasible. I took ovulation tests. I had a fancy bracelet that I wore at night that gave me stats on the best time to conceive. I planned it out strategically, but despite that preparation, it took us longer than we had envisioned to get pregnant with our daughter. Whew, this was emotional. Everyone who has been there is nodding along with me on this. It is crushing. Longest story short, we were lucky enough to finally welcome our sweet girl in 2020. We fell in love with her immediately and have marveled at her every single day since.

A few years later, when we felt we had kinda-sorta figured out this whole parenting thing and could maybe handle having another baby, the budget spreadsheets and ovulation tests came back out. The second time around, it definitely didn’t take as long. The speed actually surprised us, but we were thrilled. From the very beginning, my second pregnancy was noticeably different. I was exhausted and nauseous much earlier, and I was showing at like, 8 weeks. I thought this was odd but chalked it up to it being a second pregnancy and no longer being able to rest as much as I could when I wasn’t also taking care of a toddler. It made sense to me that it would be a bit different.

At our first ultrasound, everything suddenly made sense. “So, here’s baby A…”

Baby A?

“And this might be a surprise, but here’s baby B!”

Oh my gosh. Twins. My sister has an older daughter and twin boys. I had seen firsthand the wild ride that is adding twins to a family.

“We need to buy a bigger house,” was the first thing I said. The ultrasound tech laughed and said, “Pretty much everyone says that!” It was my first moment of camaraderie with other twin parents, but I didn’t realize it then. I was too gobsmacked.

We walked out of the doctor’s office and sat in my car to continue digesting this world-rocking news. We were excited but also completely terrified. All of those spreadsheets were basically pointless at this point, and we had a mountain of things to figure out. We hadn’t taken the day off because we weren’t expecting to have this sort of intense news at 8:30 AM. As I drove into work, I called my mom to tell her the news. She thought I was playing a joke on her, but I promised her I wasn’t. It was just truly so unbelievable. We brought my sister into the call and I spent the entire commute talking to them, laughing about the insanity of the situation, and staving off a panic attack. After I made it through the big, important meeting I was running, I booked a conference room on a different floor of my building and basically hyperventilated. I called a few of my closest friends and shared the news. I was admittedly not the most productive this day. I was rethinking everything about my home and the way my life would look moving forward. I thought of the upcoming Christmas. I thought of Christmas 30 years from now. I thought about money, our 3-bedroom house, our vehicles. My mind was absolutely reeling.

Fast forward to today. My twins will be one year old next month. It’s been so magical and these kids are all-caps CUTE. It’s absolutely fascinating to see them developing in different ways and at different paces. They make me laugh and smile and become overwhelmed with love every single day.

They have also been chronically sick after contracting RSV when they were three months old. They were born with premature lungs and required a stay in the NICU when they were first born. To see them all covered in tubes and wires and sensors again just a few months later was traumatic. My baby boy had to be intubated and sedated. My baby girl didn’t require intubation, but her condition was also dire enough to land both of them in the PICU at Children’s Hospital. We barely made it home in time for Christmas. What I had envisioned as our first Christmas didn’t quite play out, but it was still an absolutely perfect day. I’ve never been so happy to be comfy at home with my family.

Since I returned to work in January, these sweet little babies have been sick enough to have to stay home from daycare approximately 3-4 times per month. When the routine gets interrupted, we have to shift everything around. And then it happens again, and we have to shift again. And again. And again. We are so stressed. We are exhausted. There are so many childcare-related tasks that the home-maintenance tasks and self-care tasks fall to the wayside with great regularity. Despite the stress, I find so much comfort in holding them in my arms or watching them play together. I give these kids of mine about 1,000 kisses each per day and I’m so happy to have them.

Even so, this past year or so has been the hardest, most trying of my life. I wouldn’t give any of it up because it gave me my beautiful babies and created the sweetest big sister in our daughter. It strengthened my connection with my husband. Despite the great things it has brought my way, it has also been incredibly difficult. I am sure that there isn’t a single human being who looks at my family right now and says, “Wow, they make it look easy!” I actually joke that we’ve become a cautionary tale for our friends because everyone can identify that we’re living inside a bit of a perpetual tornado. I am struggling to find my footing. I never envisioned having three kids, let alone chronically sick kids. My brain and my heart go in a trillion directions every day. That picture I was painting of my life is now a bit unrecognizable to me. I can get through it, I am getting through it, and I will get through it, but this has been an enormous transformation in our lives.

Another important thing about me: I’m optimistic by nature and tend to skew positive. It’s why I know I’ll get through this phase and my husband and I will look back and congratulate each other on enduring and prevailing. But you know how people used to call me too much? Intense? A lot?

Right now, I feel very small. Not enough. Coming up short. Empty because I’m pouring every last drop into keeping these kids healthy, safe, and happy. I am wrung out, y’all.

I’ve always felt called to help others—to be a source of support and strength for those around me. Going through this whirlwind of working motherhood, with all its challenges and surprises, has been tough, but I know it’s also shaping me into someone who can offer even deeper empathy and insight. Experiencing this myself is going to make me a stronger asset for others in the future. I’ll be able to say, “I’ve been there. I get it.” That connection is priceless.

I’m learning (over and over again) that life doesn’t always adhere to our carefully crafted plans, and that’s okay. As much as it feels like I’m juggling on a unicycle, I’m beginning to understand that it’s less about perfect balance and more about resilience. I’m still that type-A, big personality woman with dreams and goals, but I’m also someone who’s slowly coming to grips with the fact that I’m not actually in control. Shocking, I know. Instead, I’m trying to remind myself to embrace the mess, roll with the punches, and find grace in the unexpected, even if it means occasionally falling flat on my face or crying so much in one day that I give myself a three-day migraine. (True story.)

This season of my life is teaching me that even when the picture you were painting takes on new colors, shapes, or textures you never imagined, it can still be beautiful—or at the very least, interesting. The love, the joy, and yes, even the chaos, are all part of my life that is rich, real, and deeply meaningful. Each time I get to watch my kids playing together or my husband and I lock eyes after our toddler says something hilarious, I realize that this uncharted path we’re on is the greatest adventure of all.

While I may not always know what’s coming next, I do know this: I’m surrounded by love, I’m stronger than I think, and even in the midst of this whirlwind, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

Plus, if nothing else, hey – it gives me plenty of material for therapy.