BIRTH STORY

I started my family later in life. Later than most. At thirty-nine, medicine labeled my pregnancy "geriatric," a term conjuring silver-haired twilight years. There I was, growing a life. He couldn't quite wait to meet us, arriving a few weeks early.

Two years later, my second son made an even earlier debut, ushering us into the neonatal intensive care unit. Born at thirty-three weeks, he barely weighed three and a half pounds. Our little boy was still getting ready for the world.

In those early days, he couldn’t coordinate sucking, swallowing, and breathing. He was fed through a vein with Total Parenteral Nutrition, individualized and adjusted daily to meet his needs.

His tiny diapers were changed often. Diaper rash cream smoothed on each time.

Curious, I picked up the tube and read the label. Synthetic preservatives. Artificial fragrance. Talc. Petrolatum.

So much care and precision went into his feedings. How could what touched his skin matter less?

I wanted my baby to grow stronger. To be nourished in all the ways that would build resilience. Not just to survive. Thrive.

That cream wasn’t just a physical exposure. It was a philosophical one. It asked whether what was being offered to him was truly for him, or whether I was simply meant to trust that it was. I couldn’t unsee what it revealed.

How readily the standard goes unquestioned. How easily habit, protocol, and assumption begin to think for us. How long an industrial-age formulation can remain the default.

My son's skin, like every baby's, was thinner and more permeable than mine. Born early, even more so. His detoxification pathways were still maturing. With that vulnerable barrier sealed by petrolatum, more was able to cross into a body not yet fully ready.

I wanted care that didn't ask his body to compensate. I wanted ingredients that belonged to living systems, materials his developing tissue could recognize and work with, rather than compounds it had to work around or defend against.

I refused to accept that compromise for my son. If his nutrition deserved such precision, so did what touched his skin.

I set out to create what I could not find. That meant ingredients as safe and nourishing as a baby's first foods. Certified food-grade. Certified organic. Plant-based. It meant omitting water to remove the need for preservatives and emulsifiers that can burden delicate skin. It meant supporting skin's natural intelligence rather than forcing it to adapt. These weren't aspirational standards. They were necessary for my child.

The botanical butters I created transformed how I cared for both my boys' skin. They gave me true peace of mind.

Mother to mother, I knew I wasn't alone in what I had seen, or in what I wanted for my children instead.

So I built it for us.

Cocoa LaBear was born from that commitment.

Every child is born to bloom.