Birth of a new season

I’m sure it’s the doula in me that brought this analogy to mind but these last few weeks have felt a lot like waiting for labor to start.

When you’re pregnant, you don’t really know what contractions are until they hit. You don’t know how your labor will unfold or what surprises will pop up in those long hours of waiting.

You just know it’s coming. You know it won’t be simple. You know there will be twists you didn’t plan for. And still, on the other side, something big and life changing is waiting. It’s a mix of nerves and excitement, of bracing for the unknown.

That’s pretty much how stepping into this next season feels for me. I’m excited. I’m nervous. I know it will stretch me and grow me in many ways. I know we’ll stumble here and there, and we’ll keep moving forward.

We’re about to birth our empty nest years. Not of a baby this time, but of a whole new chapter. There’s the ache of letting go, the anticipation of what’s ahead.

In just a few days, when we board that plane, it will feel like the very first push. The start of adventure waiting to be born. 

In growth and gratitude,
Kristin

We’re leaving the US for a year to travel

The countdown is officially on.

On August 27th, we’re grabbing our backpacks and catching a one-way flight to Colombia to begin a year of travel through South America and Europe.

This hasn’t been a sudden decision. It’s something we’ve talked about for years, a dream that always lived in the background while we were raising kids, building careers, and juggling the daily stuff of life. But now, with all five of our kids officially launched, it’s time. Not to dream about it. To actually do it.

Our first big leap was selling our home and downsizing from 26 years of parenting and life with kids into a small loft apartment in downtown Denver. We spent a year there, giving our youngest time to adjust to college life and giving ourselves space to figure out what was next.

And now we know.

We’re choosing curiosity over comfort, presence over routine. This trip isn’t about ticking off destinations. It’s about growing, reconnecting, and making room for the parts of ourselves that got tucked away in the thick of parenting.

If you’ve ever wondered what life after raising a family could look like, we hope you’ll follow along. We don’t have it all figured out, but we’re not waiting for perfect. We’re just going.

The adventure is about to begin and we’re so glad you’re here for it.

60 days and counting

It’s 60 days until we leave.

And if I’m being honest, I haven’t felt this unsettled about our trip since we started planning it.

The world feels heavy.

The news.

The violence.

The fear.

It all adds a layer of tension to this trip.

There’s a deep discomfort I carry around the identity of being American. I feel the weight of what’s being done in our country’s name. It brings shame, embarrassment, and heartbreak.

We also carry the awareness that we get to do this, to travel and move, with a level of freedom and safety not afforded to everyone. We are not stepping into this naively. That awareness matters to us.

We are not looking away from it.

We are choosing to stay present with the discomfort, to stay curious about what we don’t know, and to let the experience stretch us.

And that curiosity isn’t just about the world around us. It’s what is showing up in us too.

Everything feels unsettled, and honestly, so do I. I’m already feeling the weight of moving out of our apartment and saying goodbye to friends and family.

Every laugh, hike, co-working session, coffee, and hangout with friends feels like part of a quiet countdown.

The same with my kids, who are finding their way and stepping into more of who they are.

Choosing to leave during this season feels both right and wrong, brave and selfish, clear and completely tangled.

Choosing yourself after years of centering everyone else doesn’t come naturally. It feels strange. 

But I think this is the beginning. This discomfort feels like a cracking open. The space before something new.

A slow unraveling of old stories, beliefs, and thought patterns I’ve outgrown.

A quiet rebirth in how I show up for others, for my kids, and for myself.

It’s learning how to care for myself, believe in myself, trust myself, and love myself.

Hello, Curious, isn’t just about pretty places and packing tips. It’s about the real stuff. The raw stuff. The inner journey that mirrors the outer one.

So if you’re here for that, welcome.

In growth and gatitude,
Kristin 

The other side off excitment

Everybody we talk to gets so excited when we share our travel plans for the next year. They typically mention the adventure and freedom. 

But there’s another side to it.

We’re leaving a lot behind and I’m starting to feel the weight and emotions of it. 

Leaving my kids is going to be harder than I thought.

Each of my kids and I have such different relationships. And I’m wondering how much distance is about to challenge or change that.

How are our relationships going to work while I’m gone?

What will shift when I’m not physically present?

How will they handle us being away?

How will I?

They’re each in such different seasons, needing different kinds of support, or maybe none at all. It’s going to be challenging and probably feel really painful at times.

There will definitely be growing pains for all of us. 

Recent updates in my parents’ health have made this departure feel heavier. More uncertain.

Should we still go? 

Leaving friendships hurts.

It’s taken me ten years to find meaningful friendships here in Colorado after moving from Oklahoma and it feels scary to leave that behind.

I am really going to miss my friends.

What will it look like when we come back?

What will I have missed out on?

I don’t want to feel FOMO, but I know I will. Life will go on without me. 

We’re leaving our dog, and we feel awful imagining how confused he’ll be when we drop him off at someone else’s house. Even though they’re friends of ours, Burt doesn’t understand that.

He doesn’t know it’s temporary. He just knows we’re gone.

Then there’s my business.

I love what I do.

I’ve stepped back, and there are new things on the horizon. But they’re not rooted at home.

Not in person.

Not with my clients.

Over the past year, my business started to feel self-sufficient. I’ve had repeat clients, referrals from past clients and felt part of a larger community.

Will I be able to hop right back into doula work when we return?

What will business look like?

It feels scary and maybe even foolish to leave it behind. Like I’m jeopardizing something I worked so hard to build.

Lastly, it feels like I’m leaving a part of myself behind. There’s just this quiet knowing, a feeling, that this year will change me in ways I can’t yet name.

As always, there is an ‘AND’ to every one of these feelings.

I’ll share more about that later. But right now, with our departure so close, this is what’s sitting heavy on my heart.

In growth and gratitude,
Kristin