Why I Started Baby and Me

Once upon a time, I was a young mother who thought I knew it all. Then a beautiful foster baby came into my life—and I quickly discovered not only did I not know everything, I didn’t know nearly enough.

I’ve been drawn to little ones for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I ran summer camps for my siblings and their friends. In college, I found my way to the campus childcare center and immediately switched my major from Elementary Education to Early Childhood Education. I never looked back.

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I began my career as an inclusive preschool teacher and Early Intervention therapist. I’d always felt a calling to foster, and eventually convinced my new husband to give it a try. We knew we had plenty of love to give.

It turns out that, despite our wedding song being All You Need Is Love, we needed a lot more.

My foster son was about four months old when things got really hard. Crying, allergies, difficulty soothing, rashes, delays in motor skills, feeding challenges—it was all hard, and I felt like I was doing it all wrong. I received a lot of “advice” from professionals: oatmeal baths, steroids, physical therapy, nutrition consults, occupational therapy. Everyone had a suggestion for what I should do. But no one paused to hear how overwhelmed I felt. How lost I was. How confused I was that I didn’t know how to do the one thing I thought I was good at—babies.

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If this were a fairy tale, this is where the fairy godmother would show up. She’d glide in gently, offer reassurance and comfort, and magically make things easier.

But she didn’t come. And the story got darker.

I became a mom who yelled—out of anger, fear, sadness. A mom without support. A mom adrift, trying to hold it all together without anyone to anchor her. What I needed was someone who could see my struggle, recognize my weariness, and help me see my little boy again. Because in all that noise, his voice got lost too.

Eventually, I started searching for answers—not just for him, but for me. I looked (and looked, and looked) for the right services, hoping someone could help him—but nothing ever felt like it addressed what we really needed. What we needed was help for us. For the relationship. I found my way to infant mental health, where I learned about co-regulation, attachment, and how deeply parents need to be held, too. I learned what I hadn’t known, and what I wish someone had taught me sooner.

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That journey changed me. It didn’t fix the past—but it gave me a purpose.

I started Baby and Me to be the support I didn’t have. To help parents and babies (and toddlers, preschoolers—even older kids!) find each other again. In ways that honor both voices. That hold both experiences. That help rewrite stories—not into fairy tales, maybe—but into pages and chapters that feel readable, human, and full of hope.