Life Before Slow Living
I didn’t set out to embrace slow living. Honestly, I didn’t even know what that phrase meant until I was already doing it. But looking back, I can see exactly when the shift started, and what my life looked like before it did.
We lived in Chicago, right in the city. And I loved it in a lot of ways. I was going to workout classes multiple days a week. I had a pottery class every week for years. Brunch with friends. Dinner out. Always something on the calendar, always somewhere to be. It was a full life, and I didn’t question it. I was also building my brand, focused on making money, always thinking about what was next. The next trip, the next goal, the next milestone. I was constantly planning for the future and almost never living in the present. I didn’t realize that at the time, of course. You never do when you’re in it.
What Made Me Choose a Slower Life
In March of 2024, we lost our son Leland at 19 weeks. And everything I thought mattered stopped mattering overnight. The workout classes, the brunch plans, the brand deals, the constant hustle to build something bigger… none of it meant anything anymore. Not because those things are bad, they’re not. But when you go through something that devastating, your priorities rearrange themselves whether you want them to or not.
Grief has a way of stripping everything down to what’s real. And what was real for me was my family. Danny. Eventually, Lochlan. The life happening right in front of me that I’d been too busy planning the future to fully see.
It took time. A lot of time. Grief doesn’t hand you clarity on a neat timeline. But slowly, as the weight became more manageable, I started to notice what I actually wanted my days to look like. And it wasn’t what they had looked like before. I wanted something quieter. Something slower. Something that let me actually be present for the life I had.
Leaving the City for a Simpler Life
We weren’t actively trying to leave Chicago, but our dream property came up in our price range, and it felt like the kind of thing you don’t say no to. So we didn’t. I’ll save the full story of how we found our house for another post because it deserves its own, but I will say this: from the moment we got here, everything felt right. And calm. In a way that the city never quite did, even on its best days. It was the kind of place that made slow living feel not just possible, but natural.
What Slow Living Actually Looks Like for Our Family
I think people hear “slow living” and picture something very curated with linen dresses and sourdough and golden hour on a farm. And yes, I am actually in love with all of those things. But the reality is that it’s much simpler than that.
It’s sitting outside in the morning and hearing nothing but birds. Having the kind of privacy where Lochlan can run around the yard without me worrying about anything. Cooking dinner from scratch because I want to, not because I’m performing it for content. It’s walking into our little Hallmark town just steps away and grabbing lunch or browsing the shops with nowhere else to be.
It’s being focused on motherhood right now. Not work, not the next goal, not the future. Just being here. Playing with him. Watching him grow. Noticing the small things I wouldn’t have just two years ago.
Living in the today.
[ IMAGE: Lochlan playing outside, porch swing moment, or a quiet everyday scene at your home ]
Why I Started a Slow Living Blog
I’m not writing this to tell anyone how to live. I know slow living isn’t accessible to everyone, and I know the circumstances that brought me here aren’t ones I’d wish on anyone. But I do think there’s something in this story that might resonate with you, even if your version looks completely different from mine. Maybe it’s the realization that the future you’re racing toward isn’t guaranteed. Maybe it’s the permission to stop doing things just because you’ve always done them. Or maybe it’s the quiet thought that your life might feel better with a little less noise in it.
For me, slow living started with loss. But it grew into something I chose. Something I keep choosing, every day, on purpose.
And this blog, this little corner of the internet, is where I’m going to share what that looks like. The recipes I make from scratch, the home we’re building, the garden we’re planning, the books I’m reading after bedtime. The ordinary, unhurried, imperfect days that turned out to be exactly what I needed.
If you’re here, I’m glad. Pull up a chair. There’s no rush.
If you’re navigating pregnancy or infant loss and looking for support, I also write at Our Healing Home— a space I built for loss moms. There’s a free 30-day grief journal there if you need it. You can find it at ourhealinghome.co.
