It’s been a year 🤪. And for this final post, I’m not here to give you a highlight reel of KPIs and milestones. This week’s update is a series of short stories - of innocence, pride, chaos, resilience, and reflection.
1. The Innocence of the Child
Last weekend we laced up for Run2Cure at Albert Park - half marathon for me, 5K for some of the Indi team, and an epic 1K with a crew of mums, therapists, kids, and their educators.
It was emotional. Near the start line stood a tribute wall - photos of children lost to cancer, with messages from their families. As a parent, it floors you. You can’t walk past it and not feel it.
We try to expose our kids to these moments. Not in a harsh way, but so they build empathy. So I walked Harper and Beckham over to the wall. Harper’s first words:
“Daddy, are these friends coming to play and run today?” 🥺
That’s her default: sees kids, thinks friends. In a world where hate feels louder than ever, I hope she never loses that default setting.
Beckham, curious as ever, asked about the white tubes under the kids’ noses. It led to a conversation about feeding tubes, about kids who are sick. You never know if these things land. But I think it’s worth trying.
2. The Proud Dad Moment
After the race, we headed straight to Myuna Farm for a kinder catch-up. Indi was in her buggy, headphones on, exploring the full range of her voice - shrieks and yells, happy and otherwise. She was loud.
A boy in front of us turned to his mum and said, “Why is it so loud?”
His mum turned him away. She had an opportunity to explain, to help him understand… and she didn’t take it.
But Harper stepped up. “That’s my sister Indi,” she said, gently. Like she wanted him to see her, to get it. It was one of those quietly powerful big sister moments.
Then a group of older teens with visible disabilities joined the queue behind us. Beckham and Harper immediately struck up conversation with them - talking about the animals, asking what they were excited for.
No labels. No barriers. Just kids being kids. Their support worker came up and said, “Your kids are so friendly with them.” It made me proud, but also a little sad. Because that comment meant it was unusual.
Whether it’s cancer, disability, or any other challenge - we can’t change the fate of some children. But we can choose the lived experience we create for them and for their families. That part is in our hands.
3. The Most Authentic Call of My “Career”
I already shared this one on LinkedIn - but here’s the short version, because it deserves to be here too.
Last Tuesday night was the big call. The one we’ve been building to for six months. We were about to show our partner clinics the first proper look at the Indi app.
Allie was on bedtime duty. Beckham and Harper were bribed to be quiet. I was in storytelling mode. Everything was going great… until I heard it.
Footsteps. Then cupboards. Then bleach. Then cloths.
Indi had a smearing episode - mid-demo. (If you don’t know what that is, feel free to Google it.)
In that moment, CEO mode ended. Dad mode took over. I wrapped my section, handed it to Gretchen, turned off camera and mic, and sprinted upstairs.
Downstairs: six months of product work being unveiled.
Upstairs: me, fully clothed in the shower, singing to Indi and cleaning poo from between her toes.
It’s funny. Or it’s heartbreaking. Or maybe both. If you don’t laugh, you cry. And I got close to crying.
Eventually I made it back for Q&A. And I think that demo landed harder than anything I could’ve said. Because that is the reality we’re building for. For the parent trying to hold life together while still being the carer their kid needs. We see you. We’re building for you.
And What Else?
We are deep in silly season now. Allie’s racing to finish her summer unit. Harper and Indi’s birthday on the 21st. Allie’s on the 24th. Jesus on the 25th. Kinder graduations. New school transitions. Special school orientation. It’s wild. But we’re doing our best to stay present in the joy.
The girls had their birthday party on Saturday - 30 kids, snacks and chaos. Harper wanted a tiger theme, so I spent 2 hours face painting. Turns out, those 3 years of uni nights out face painted weren’t a total waste. The kids loved it.
And the app? It’s flying. The version we’ve been counting down to for months drops this week - Dec 19. But what excites me most isn’t what’s live now… it’s how fast this team is building.
On a train yesterday, I got Indi’s speech notes by email. Five clicks later, it was in the app, summarised by AI, and added to her developmental timeline in the app for her whole care village to see. That’s the future. And it’s happening now.
If you haven’t tried the app yet, please wait a few days. Let us turn the payment gateway on first 😉
A Word on Bondi
This week, the physical safety bubble that makes Australia feel so far from global hate disappeared.
I’ve lived in many places. One of the things I’ve loved about Australia is the feeling that we’re far from the chaos. But not anymore.
There are no words that do justice - not “awful” or “heartbreaking.” It’s deeper than that.
In moments like this, we all face a choice. Do we respond with fear and hate? Or do we double down on love?
I remember something from an event years ago: when two energies meet - nervous vs confident, warm vs cold, calm vs panic - the bigger energy wins. Always.
So in times like this, when you don’t know exactly what action to take, or the role you play in this, remember: be the bigger energy. Be the one that brings light. That creates space for love and peace.
Closing out 2025
To everyone who’s read these posts, shared them, or just followed along - thank you. I’ve felt your support. 2026 is going to be big. It’s going to be a journey. It will likely provide some entertaining stories to read.
From our family to yours, if you’re celebrating, have an amazing Christmas and I’ll see you on the other side.
Love Orrin xoxox
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