This is Not Forever

Why I’m building a multi-passionate coaching business that survives 4.15am wake-ups

My three-year-old keeps waking in the night.

Sometimes it’s a midnight panic.
Other times it’s trickier: a 4.15am declaration: “Mummy, I’m awaaaake!”, that even a cuddle in my bed can’t fix.

So there we lie: him tracing my face with sticky little hands, poking me in the bladder with his feet, whispering the numbers 1 to 20 (but always forgetting 13 and 15). Meanwhile my brain is suddenly fizzing with ideas for my business. All those moments of clarity, all those content pillars beloved by marketeers (but really, isn’t it just repeating a few bloody brilliant core stories and values, and then showing the brilliance of your work to the people ready to benefit from it?): all there, ready for the taking.

I feel ready.
I could take on the world (or at least Instagram) with the things I want to say.

But he can’t settle. He needs a wee. He must eat a “hoss cross bun".” And suddenly my day has begun before I’ve even got my bra on.

It’s such a tricky phase.
And it clashes directly with the big ambitions I have for this next part of my life and work.

But here’s what happened the other day: a little tale of hope amidst the fatigue.

I posted something on Instagram: a tiny square of honesty I was genuinely proud of. It got hardly any likes (Instagram really does test a woman’s commitment to not equating likes with worth). But then two WhatsApps came in from former clients.

One included the words:
“Your words appeared right when I needed them.”

The other message said:
“In the throes of difficulties with xxxxx over many years, you once told me something so gently and so powerfully that it has stayed with me: does the decision you’re making to reflect your own circumstances now have to be a forever decision? You are free to change your mind.”

And there it was.
My own coaching, reflected back to me.

This is not forever.
This doesn’t put me in a permanent state of stuckness.
And it doesn’t diminish my ambition or my capacity for brilliance.

It reminds me that the work and the business I’m building cannot solely rely on whether my kids sleep well. It has to outlast this phase. It has to be deeper-rooted than that. It has to be seasonal, cyclical, human: something that honours the fact that I’m a nurturing mother of three and refuses to be embarrassed by that truth.

And also, let’s be honest, I know that I’m bloody magic at what I do.
As a coach, podcaster, host of groups and communities, speaker, writer…
and I’m proud that I’m doing all of this alongside being a dedicated teacher and a professional singer.

So here are three things I’m actually doing to keep going (and they might help you too, if you find yourself in a similar season.)

1. I’m building an ecosystem, not a schedule

This is the honest one.

I’m not posting daily (I’d like to be, but it’s simply not happened yet)
I’m not batch-creating a month of content (see brackets above)
I’m not mapping out a beautiful visibility strategy with pastel highlighters (although stationery is often third on my Christmas list behind St Eval candles and supersoft knitwear).

What I am doing is building an ecosystem of ideas.

When something meaningful lands — a client insight, a moment in school, a thought at 4.15 a.m. while my toddler rearranges my face with his hands — I note it. I add it to the pile. I let the body of work grow in the natural rhythm of my life.

Brilliant work requires returning to the ideas that matter, and a clarity of message.

And that: I can do, even in this season.

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2. I’m choosing progress over pace

You can move slowly and still build something remarkable.

I don’t hit every creative goal each week. Sometimes I manage a paragraph. Sometimes it’s just a voice note. Sometimes it’s simply a clearer decision about the direction I’m moving in.

It still counts.

It still compounds.

The brilliant version of me doesn’t need a perfect routine, in fact she knows herself well enough to know that’s probably not possible.
She needs movement — even if it’s 1000 tiny steps (anyone get that reference?!)

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3. I’m letting this season refine my work, not derail it

This is the piece I keep coming back to.

It would be easy to wait for a calmer season before taking myself seriously. Before stepping into the writer, coach, creator, leader I want to be.

But motherhood has sharpened me.
Time scarcity has clarified me.
Energy limits have made me more strategic.
Juggling has made me more honest about what actually matters.

This season isn’t stealing my brilliance.
It’s concentrating it.

And the work I’m building — slow, steady, rooted — is designed to hold me through seasons like this, not collapse when someone small wakes up at 4.15 a.m.

If you’re in this phase too, take heart. You’re not behind and you’re certainly not diminished. You’re building a life and a body of work at the same time, and that takes courage, clarity and relentless hope.

Keep going. The woman you’re becoming is already taking shape (and whilst I can’t offer you anything beyond my writing right now, if you’re wondering what I’ll be offering as a coach and teacher hybrid, it’s coming…)

With love,

Laura x

artwork by Donna Ford

I’m Laura, a coach, teacher, professional soprano, creative soul, Squarespace designer and a mum of three. I’ve always been a multi-passionate sort: part intellect, part instinct, part art, part spreadsheets. You’ll find me in classrooms, rehearsal rooms, recording studios, muddy fields, Surrey cafés, and my kitchen trying to persuade small people to eat something green.

I believe in starting before you feel fully ready. I believe creativity arrives in tiny sparks you almost miss. I believe work can feel meaningful and alive, even in the middle of everyday life. I believe ambition isn’t something to shrink from.

If you’re here, you probably believe that too.