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When I first started sharing our lives online - mine and Leia’s especially - I never could’ve imagined how it would all unfold. What began as a creative outlet turned into something so much bigger: a brand rooted in storytelling, imagery, motherhood, and community. Through influencing, small shop collaborations, and photo shoots that captured the sweetness of childhood and handmade goods, a vibrant, engaged community grew around our family.
It was a beautiful experience - and one I’ll always treasure. I genuinely loved supporting fellow makers, styling and photographing products for other small businesses, and blending our everyday lives with visual storytelling. It was more than business; it was personal. And people could feel that. They connected with it.
But as we all know, Instagram has changed - and so have I.
Communities shift. Algorithms evolve. Seasons of life move on. Earlier this year, I made the intentional decision to stop sharing my children’s faces publicly. I’ll still share past memories when it feels right, but protecting their privacy - especially as they grow older and navigate the world as neurodivergent individuals - has become my priority. The online space isn’t what it used to be, particularly for autistic children, and I want to respect their autonomy in a way I didn’t fully understand when they were little.
I’ll be honest: coming to that decision wasn’t easy. For a long time, my brand was deeply intertwined with our family’s story. I felt connected to my audience through that vulnerability and realness. Letting go of that part of my brand felt, at times, like losing a part of myself.
There’s a lot of transparency now about the behind-the-scenes of running a small business - the late nights, the fulfillment chaos, the emotional labor - but what we don’t talk about enough is the mental load of doing all that and nurturing a large, loyal community alone. As the only person behind Sweet As April (at least right now), the weight of showing up, creating, selling, and engaging fell entirely on me.
I’d be lying if I said the decline in SAA’s popularity didn’t hit me hard. It’s not that I was doing anything “wrong.” The economy changed. People’s shopping habits shifted. Online culture moved on. I was still me — still designing bonnets with love and intention — but the momentum, the buzz, the algorithmic love… it all slowed. And it hurt.
I share more about this in my “Unapologetically Me: Getting Over My Fear of Failure” series, where I dig deeper into how I pulled myself up and found purpose again. But here’s what I’ll say now:
Today, even without the influence-driven content or curated family posts, Sweet As April is growing again - on its own terms. It’s not the story that’s selling the product anymore. It’s the product itself. The design. The craftsmanship. The art.
And honestly? That feels really, really good.
In my next post, I’ll share more about why this new phase makes so much sense for a brand like mine, how I’ve made peace with the changes, and what the future holds for Sweet As April.
For now, I just want to say thank you for being here through all the seasons.
