Trellis began the way the best things do — with love.
When Skyler Kruger met Sarah Jean, he also met her son, Harvey. Loving Harvey — and wanting to understand how to support him well — drew Skyler into the world of autism and developmental-disability care: first a training, then years of work as a direct support professional.
The gap we saw
That work made one thing impossible to unsee: the people in a person's life rarely share what they know. The therapist doesn't see what happened at home on Thursday. The new caregiver inherits a binder that's already out of date. Families carry the whole picture in their heads and re-explain it, over and over, to everyone new. Information sits in silos — and the person at the center pays for it, in regression, in crises, in care that never quite adds up to a whole.
Skyler and Sarah built Trellis straight out of that experience: a shared, private place where everyone around a person — family, DSPs, therapists, teachers, clinicians — finally works from the same understanding.
They have known care's gaps from more than one side, which is why Trellis refuses to be a single-diagnosis tool. Trellis is built to support a person of any kind, in any context, around the full reality of their life.
Care doesn't fit in a box — and no one should be made to feel they don't fit the one they were handed.
What drives it
Trellis exists so no one feels lost, boxed in, or unsupported in their care. It helps patients, families, and care teams coordinate around the full reality of a person's life — all in one place.
Trellis is family-led, and for now, it's just the two of them. Skyler built it; he and Sarah conceived it together and steward its vision as partners. It began with one family's experience — and it's still guided by the question that started it: what would have helped?
Family-led. Built honest. Still asking the first question.
What they believe
