indi is named after a little girl

Three kids under five. Twins. A wife studying midwifery full time. Family on the other side of the world. That was already a lot.

Then, somewhere around two, Indi started to go a bit sparkly. The words that were coming stopped coming. Sleep turned into a 2am rave. And the calendar filled up with paediatricians, speechies, OTs, neurologists, NDIS planners and funding forms.

Nobody hands you a manual for this. No training. No warning. And for us, no village down the road.

Being a parent-carer is two jobs. There’s the caring, which is relentless and beautiful and hard. And there’s the admin.

Reports scattered across five inboxes. The letter you need in the next ten minutes. Telling your child’s story, again, to someone new who has twenty minutes and none of the context. Twenty-two separate tasks just to tell the NDIS your daughter has grown up.

Every time I touched the system, I found something broken. And every broken thing landed on parents who had nothing left to give.

In January 2025, after six years building my last company, I went back to day one: twelve weeks at Antler to find a co-founder and a problem worth solving.

On paper it was madness. Three young kids, one with complex needs, flights to Sydney, a brand-new mortgage. But I didn’t need to go looking for a problem. I was living it.

That’s where I met Jeff, a product and AI builder who’d ruled me out on the problem space alone. Then he heard why I was building it. Then he saw the spreadsheet.

In April, Antler said yes. Unanimously. Someone asked how it felt, and I couldn’t get the words out.

We didn’t build indi in a boardroom. We built it with the Indi 500, the first families who signed up before there was anything to sign up for. With a group chat of mums and dads who have very strong opinions. With speech pathologists and OTs who gave us their evenings because they care that much about the kids they see.

Jeff wrote the first line of code in May 2025. By June, real parents were using it. A few months later, a mum in an emergency department used indi to push for a second opinion, and they caught something that would have been missed. That one moment was worth everything so far.

We use it ourselves, every day. When Indi’s school needed twelve months of reports for a funding application, I had them in minutes, from the kinder car park. When we ended up in emergency, again, triage had the whole picture before we’d sat down.

Here’s what three years of this life has taught me. Unless you’ve lived it, you can’t fully imagine it. That’s not a criticism. It’s just true. And it’s why so many well-meaning things built for families like ours miss the mark.

So lived experience sits at every level of indi. In the founders. In the team. On our advisory board. In the families who test every release before you see it.

Our mission is simple to say and hard to do: change what this feels like for a million families who need help.