It is hard to believe I sit here and write to you with fall (officially) ten days away. I feel like I blinked, and summer came and went, and my gut tells me this seems to be the case as we get older. It’s bittersweet if I am being honest. Grasping so tight to the long summer days, but yearning for the crisp air, the change in season, and welcome the holidays, which bring me more joy than one can imagine.

It sure has been an incredible, yet challenging year. Life has a funny way of doing that, right? I have produced some of my proudest work to date on behalf of the most wonderful families, yet behind closed doors, faced personal loss that I am just now acknowledging and grieving, and I share this with an open heart in hopes that we can all remember we’re human with similar peaks and valleys, and that we are capable of anything, and so am I.

In May, and what happened to be my busiest month in my career, I unexpectedly went into surgery with an ectopic pregnancy which led to a ruptured fallopian tube. I lost both my pregnancy and my (left) fallopian tube as the result of surgery. This would mark my third miscarriage, and my first of this kind. Five days later I was on the road to Central Oregon to produce a wedding, followed by a client’s 60^th birthday, and woke up feeling numb on Mother’s Day. I felt empty.  And the only thought I had on my heart was that it was time to pack for Southern California to produce next weekend’s wedding without compromising my work and their special weekend (ignoring and in denial of a 6-week recovery plan). It was imperative that only my immediate community knew so that I could lean into them for both physical and emotional support to carry me. A territory I am a tad unfamiliar and uncomfortable with, asking for help but I knew I couldn’t produce at this level without our village being on standby.

It’s a weird complex being in hospitality. Standing among people celebrating joyous moments you’ve designed and created environments for knowing there’s a bit of pain in your own journey at times. It’s a shield of armor we wear, and one I wouldn’t trade, it’s simply perspective. I am most confident on that battlefield performing at my highest level under pressure that I love. And with armor comes layers, and those layers once shed, leave you standing in your most vulnerable state. The most incredible part is that both joy and sadness can exist in harmony.

How could I feel so empty, yet my life is so rich? A warm home that J.R. and I are growing our family in, a healthy boy who we just celebrated his second birthday, and family and friends that at times I can’t believe we’re lucky enough to call ours.

Billie Jean King once said, ‘Pressure is a privilege,’ and J.R. reminds me of this and it’s something I hold dear to me. He knows that about me more than anyone. It is a privilege, and one I am grateful to possess but with it comes high highs, and low lows.

But the greatest privilege is being a mom, and a partner, which fuels my work, and breathes life into producing for all of you. It is my most cherished path I’ve walked, and because of that, my work has a stronger meaning, and in return, higher stakes.

It’s a gift each of you have given me; a present that I keep opening with the same feeling of gratitude, and it never gets old being chosen as your Planner. And I know I am right where I am supposed to be.

Although its been ten months since Colleen captured these images, sharing a bit of my own family, which on that Mother’s Day that I felt so empty, as I scrolled through these images, and played outside with Maddox under the early summer sun, reminded me just how full I really am.

With love,

KT