It also wasn’t part of my life plan to start a business—one that I half-jokingly refer to as my baby. I know that analogy can feel touchy, especially to those who have carried and raised children in the most literal sense, and I hold a lot of respect for that. But the truth is, Austin Lymphatic has been my obsession, my responsibility, my heart, and my life’s work for over a decade. I poured myself into it in the same way you pour yourself into anything you love fiercely. Before I found this work, I was floating—curious, capable, but unanchored. Then suddenly, purpose arrived all at once, the way it tends to – I started Massage Therapy school two weeks after meeting my now-husband. Life has a funny way of doing that to you.

I once heard that most people wildly overestimate what they can accomplish in a year and deeply underestimate what they can build in five.

Ain’t that the truth. When I look ahead five years, I can’t begin to imagine where we’ll be. And when I write down goals for this time next year, they sometimes feel almost laughable on paper. But what I hope—what I know, actually—is that no matter how quickly things grow or how unexpectedly life unfolds, I want to keep doing it the same way: with care, intention, and heart.

This Mother’s Day feels different for me. Our human kiddos are grown up now and we’re opening our Houston location.  With that, I’ve noticed a familiar feeling bubbling up—equal parts excitement, tenderness, and a quiet ache. Austin will always be my baby. It’s where everything began. It holds so many memories, lessons, and growing pains. But just like in life, love doesn’t shrink when it’s shared—it expands. Making room for something new doesn’t mean abandoning what came first. It means trusting that your capacity has grown, even if you didn’t realize it was happening.

I think that’s what motherhood is, in all its forms. It’s caring deeply about something—or someone—outside of yourself. It’s showing up when it’s inconvenient, staying present when it’s hard, and loving without guarantees. It’s a sacrifice. It’s recognizing seasons while you’re in them, and letting go when it’s time, even if your heart tugs back. You don’t have to be a mother by definition to know this feeling. You just have to have loved something with your whole heart and soul.

So today, I want to celebrate all the mothers, stepmothers, caregivers, builders, dreamers, and nurturers—the ones raising children, the ones raising families, the ones raising businesses, communities, ideas, and futures.
The ones who never planned for this life but showed up anyway. May you trust that there is always room for more love and more growth. May you know that the care you give—to anything you hold dear—matters more than you’ll ever fully see.

Happy Mother’s Day Lymphies. 💛 💛

Permission to sit with nature. To feel sunlight on your skin. To drink enough water. To breathe fresh air.
To remember who you are beneath the schedules and responsibilities.

You are stardust — literally. Every cell in your body is part of an endless cycle that’s deeply connected to the universe. That truth is easy to forget when we’re rushing to appointments or checking notifications, until the body stops performing on command and reminds us how precious this time, and this body, really is.

Valentine’s Day is supposed to be about love, but so often it turns into another obligation. Another expectation. Another thing to show up for while ignoring the very body that carries you through all of it. Real self-love is listening when your body is tired, inflamed, overwhelmed, or asking you to slow down. It’s choosing rest when the culture tells you to keep going. It’s tending to your nervous system, not just your relationships.

We see this every single day in the office. Our calendar stays busy because people are exhausted. Overstimulated. Inflamed. Carrying more than they realize. The lymphatic system doesn’t have a pump of its own — it relies on movement, breath, and intentional support. When life stays busy and the nervous system never fully settles, the body holds on. Swelling, fatigue, brain fog, compromised immunity — these aren’t random. They’re signals.

So maybe this Valentine’s Day looks a little different. Maybe it’s less about reservations and more about restoration. Less about proving love and more about practicing it. Remember, Love is a verb. It’s something you DO. It requires action, intention and follow through. February is a reminder to love the people in your life, yes — but don’t forget to shine some of that love inward. Give yourself permission to pause. To take care. To receive.

All I’m saying is that if you don’t demand the time, there will be none left. The calendar won’t stop —
but you can.

We are here to support you whenever you’re ready.

With so much Love,

At the same time, something beautiful was happening back home.

The practice had found its rhythm. We have a dream team of dedicated therapists, Liz keeps everything running smoothly as our Client Care Coordinator, our systems are strong, and our client community is loyal and engaged. For the first time in years, the business felt less like pushing uphill and more like flowing. But if I’m honest, there was one area where we were truly behind — our online presence. Our website no longer reflected who we are or what we offer. I wanted our digital home to feel the way our clinic feels: warm, calming, and deeply connected to nature. I wanted someone who had never heard of the lymphatic system to land on our site and immediately understand what it is, why it matters, and how lymphatic drainage can support overall health and wellness. That meant it was time for a facelift — not just visually, but conceptually — and that decision sent me straight back to nature for inspiration.

During my time in Baja, I began taking freediving classes. Most of freediving isn’t diving at all — it’s floating, breathing, waiting, and letting go. One afternoon, I was face-down in the sea, staring into what felt like endless blue, allowing the current to move me wherever it wished. There was no effort and no direction, just the sensation of being held. Then something shifted. I melted into the ocean and felt completely at ONE with the water, the planet, the sky — everything. It was Flow in its purest form. On land, everything feels separate: my desk, my teacup, my computer, each with clear edges and boundaries. But in the water, that separation dissolves. The ocean doesn’t just surround you, it holds you and moves you, and you stop being something in the system and start remembering that you are part of the system itself. Floating there, it became suddenly and beautifully clear: our bodies are oceans too. We have tides and rhythms, we swell and recede, and we respond to breath, movement, and pressure.

The lymphatic system behaves exactly like water. It moves in gentle waves, responding to softness, space, and ease. When resistance lowers, flow returns.