2017. San Francisco. I was driving my son to school.
That was the morning the name showed up. MOMumental Moments. I said it out loud in the car. It stuck. I started writing it down everywhere · in margins, in notes apps, in the small hours when nobody was watching.
For seven years it was a private notebook. The thing I kept open while I led acquisitions, raised four boys, and built every other thing I built. The phrase named what nobody else was naming.
A cross-country move, followed by a nasty divorce that left me scrubbing a neon-green pool on Mother's Day. CEO of Community Supporting Moms. In perimenopause without knowing it. Co-blending a family. Then a baby at 40.
Four years of being dismissed by doctors. Then I got pregnant at 40. Sold a company six months pregnant. Delivered a 9lb 12oz baby boy. Four months in, the floor opened up.
The only way out was an SSRI and a hormone panel. Not either. Both.
The architecture I needed for myself became the architecture I refused to gatekeep. One voice. Two products. Built together.
The notebook from 2017 is a registered IP in 2026.
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