Most of these case studies come from emails my readers send me. With their permission, I share them with the names changed. I do this so that others can learn from what worked and what didn't. Have a story of your own? Share it with me.
- 11inquiries a month, up from 4
- 8sessions booked a month, up from 3
- 2 sechome page load time, down from 6

Her busiest hour on the website was 11 at night. Her website was built for someone reading at noon on a big screen.
That gap sits at the center of Marisol’s newborn photographer website, in Halifax, Nova Scotia.
Marisol photographs newborns in clients’ homes across the city, about six babies a month in a good month.
About 900 people visited her site each month. Only four wrote to her. Three months after a rewrite, the same traffic brought eleven.
The problem
Marisol’s site looked like a fashion magazine. A slider of twelve photos, tiny gray text and a menu of clever words.
Home, Portfolio, Investment, Journal, Connect
She opened it on her own phone one night, lying in bed, the way her clients would. It took six seconds to load.
| Measure | Before, per month |
|---|---|
| Website visits | About 900 |
| Inquiries | 4 |
| Sessions booked | 3 |
| Home page load time on a phone | 6 seconds |
Nothing on the first screen said newborn
The slider opened on a maternity photo at the beach. The word newborn first appeared halfway down the page.
There was no town name, no safety line and no button above the fold. A tired visitor had to scroll and guess.
The contact form felt like a tax return
Her form had eleven fields. It asked for a budget, a home address and a long message, all required.
It never asked for the one thing she needed most, the due date.
Her site stats showed many visitors opened the contact page. Most left before pressing send.
She tried filling it in herself on her phone. It took four minutes, and the budget box made her feel judged.
The solution
Marisol decided to rebuild the site for the parent reading at 11 p.m. with one hand.
She kept her photos and her prices. She changed the words, the order and the form.
Her plan had four parts.
A first screen with three lines and one button.
Plain page names and page titles with Halifax in them.
A five-field form with a due date.
Smaller photo files, so the site loaded fast on a phone.
She also added a What to Expect page that walked through booking to gallery in six steps.
She gave herself two weekends, one page per evening.
The process that worked
She rewrote the site page by page, starting with the page most parents saw first.
The home page
The slider came down. In its place went one calm photo of a sleeping baby in a father’s hands.
Above it sat a plain headline. “Newborn photos at home in Halifax, slow and safe.”
Under the headline went one line about safety and an orange button. “Hold my due-date week.”
The menu
She renamed every menu item. Portfolio became Gallery, Investment became Sessions, and Connect became Contact.
She dropped Journal from the menu and moved it to the footer. Few new parents ever clicked it.
The new menu had five plain words. Home, Gallery, Sessions, What to Expect and Contact. A tired thumb could find any of them.
She added one new item, What to Expect. It became her second most visited page within a month.
The page titles
Her home page title had been just her business name. Nobody searching in Halifax typed that.
She rewrote it as “Newborn Photographer in Halifax, at Home.”
She kept each title short, so the title shown in search results wasn’t cut off on a phone.
She gave the sessions page a title with prices in it, and the gallery a title with the city.
The form
Eleven fields became five. Name, email or phone, due date, at home or studio, and an optional box for anything else.
An auto-reply went out right away. It thanked the parent, repeated her due date and promised a reply within one day.
The photos
Her photos had been huge files straight from her editing app. She shrank every website image to a web-friendly size.
The home page now loaded in about two seconds on her phone, even away from Wi-Fi.
She also cut the gallery from 80 photos to 24. The page felt calmer, and the best photos finally had room to breathe.
How the newborn photographer website paid off
She compared the three months before the rebuild with the three months after.
| Measure per month | Before | After 3 months |
|---|---|---|
| Website visits | About 900 | About 950 |
| Inquiries | 4 | 11 |
| Sessions booked | 3 | 8 |
| Home page load time on a phone | 6 seconds | 2 seconds |
At $450 a session, five extra bookings a month came to about $2,250 more each month.
The rebuild cost her four evenings and a cup of tea each time.
What we learned from here
The main lesson from Marisol’s newborn photographer website is to build for the real visitor.
Not the one you picture, the one in your stats.
Marisol’s visitors were tired, on phones and reading late. Once the site matched that moment, more of them wrote to her.
Traffic barely changed. The same people simply found what they needed and said yes. She didn’t buy a single ad.
The due-date field turned out to be a quiet hero. She could hold a week before her first reply, and parents loved that.
She now treats every newborn photographer website page as an answer to one question a parent asks at night.
Here’s what was worth an evening and what wasn’t worth the fuss.
| Worth the evening | Not worth the fuss |
|---|---|
| A first screen with three lines and a button | A twelve-photo slider |
| Plain menu names | Clever menu words |
| A due date on the form | A required budget field |
| Smaller photo files | A fancy loading animation |
| A What to Expect page | A long blog post about gear |
One change backfired at first. She removed her price from the home page to keep it clean, and “How much?” emails came back within a week.
She put a single line back. “Newborn sessions from $450.” The emails stopped again.
Her next project is a gift card page for grandparents. Two of them have already called to ask.









