Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the work I get to do with parents and caregivers, and what stands out most to me isn’t “progress” in the traditional sense. It’s the moments when parents feel safe enough to pause. Safe enough to say, “This is hard,” or “I’m not sure what to do here.” That willingness doesn’t come from having it all figured out — it comes from being met with empathy rather than judgment. Many of the parents I support are exhausted, unsure, and carrying a lot of self-doubt. And still, in the middle of that, they show up. Sometimes that looks like curiosity. Sometimes it looks like frustration. Sometimes it looks like just staying in the room when things feel messy. All of it counts. This is the kind of work I care most about: meeting people where they are, without expectations of readiness or change. I don’t believe parents need to be reflective, calm, or regulated to deserve support. I believe those things emerge when people feel understood and supported over time. I’m feeling grateful for the trust parents place in me, and clear about the kind of spaces I want to help create — ones where struggle is allowed, learning is shared, and connection comes before correction. If you’re in a season that feels heavy, uncertain, or unfinished, you belong here too.