Taking Time Off as a Designer: A Year of Parenthood, Perspective, and Presence

What led to your decision to take a year away from full-time design?

I was on parental leave when my work situation unexpectedly shifted. So my wife and I sat down and made a call, instead of rushing our son into daycare, I’d stay home with him until the end of summer. Summer came and went, and we both agreed: let’s keep going.

The more time I spent with him, the more it felt like the right decision. Watching him grow, being there for all the little in-between moments, and building this deep connection, it was something I knew I wouldn’t get back. Of course, there was always this quiet voice in the back of my mind, the designer in me wondering, Will I have anything to come back to? The creative industry moves fast, and it’s easy to feel like you’re being left behind. But what surprised me was how much this time sharpened my process.

I didn’t have long, uninterrupted blocks to work while he was awake. Everything slowed down in the best way. I’d sit with ideas longer. Let concepts simmer before touching a key. I’d think more about how something should feel, or what story it should tell, before even opening a file. Stepping back didn’t disconnect me from design, it brought me back to the core of it. And it gave me something I hadn’t had in a long time: space to breathe.

What were your biggest hopes (or fears) about stepping away from client work?

Oh, there were definitely nerves. I’ve been working in this industry for over a decade, building a reputation, running my studio, and maintaining visibility. So stepping back came with the usual fears: Would clients forget me? Would the work dry up? Would I even feel like “a designer” if I weren’t in it every day?

But beneath all that, there was also this quiet hope: that time away would refill the tank differently. That I’d come back not just rested, but with a new kind of clarity, more grounded, more intentional, maybe even more creative.

During that year, I started reconnecting with a few creatives who were also dads. We’d talk about work, but also about parenting, the joy, the chaos, the shift in priorities. Sharing where I was at felt important. I realized just how lucky I was to have this time, and I didn’t want to waste it by constantly worrying about what I was missing.

Somewhere in those conversations, I started to feel it: I was changing. I was still a designer, but now I was approaching everything with a little more perspective. I knew that when I did come back, I wouldn’t be chasing the same things. I’d be designing from a different place, one shaped by presence, not pressure.

What surprised you most about those first months of being home with your son?

How full the days felt, even though we weren’t doing all that much. There were no deadlines, no meetings, no multitasking. Just a blur of bottle feeds, nappy changes, short naps, and endless rounds of tummy time. But somehow, those quiet routines filled up the day.

In those early months, he was learning how to roll, trying to lift his head, making little sounds that felt like the beginning of a conversation. Watching that kind of growth up close, slow, small, but deeply meaningful, made me slow down too. It reminded me that these are the moments that matter.

In those first three or four months, I had to completely reset my expectations for how the days would unfold. I was used to structure before he arrived, and now it was just me and him. I had to plan feeds, meals, activities, washing, and cleaning, and there wasn’t much space for anything else. With a baby that young, it was 20 minutes at a time. Naps didn’t always go to plan. Schedules shifted constantly. And I had to learn not to fight it.

That kind of change was challenging, especially for someone who thrives on routine. But over time, I found some peace in the unpredictability. I learned to be less rigid, to go with the flow, and to focus less on getting the day right and more on simply being there for it. Not everything had to be perfect. Not everything had to go to plan. And that mindset, that looseness, ended up being one of the best things I could carry back into my creative work.

So what now?

Now I’m back at it, slowly, intentionally, and on my own terms. I’m building up the studio again, reconnecting with clients I love working with, and saying yes to projects that feel aligned. The work matters to me. It always has. But I’m more aware now of how it fits into the rest of my life. My time looks different, and so does my energy.

One of the best shifts has been this: I can step away in the afternoons to pick up our son and spend that one-on-one time with him again. That rhythm has been so good for our family. Of course, it means the work picks up again once the little man’s asleep, but it’s a trade-off I’m more than happy to make.

So I’m designing again. It’s not always balanced. But it’s mine. And that feels like a pretty good place to start from.