Good question.

Honestly? By changing our minds. Starting over. Raising kids. Taking care of people. Building things. Walking away from things. Trying again. Getting knocked sideways by life and occasionally wondering if everyone else got an instruction manual we somehow missed.

So… this is life.

And that's kind of the whole point.

THIS WASN'T EXACTLY THE PLAN.

I'm Heather.

I'm a wife, a mom of four, an entrepreneur, a chronic overthinker, and someone who has reinvented herself more times than she'd probably like to admit.

I've started businesses. Changed directions. Had ideas I was positive were THE idea.

Narrator: They were not.

I've quit. Started again. Questioned myself. Gotten excited. Gotten discouraged. Changed my mind and then changed it back.

For a long time, I thought that meant I couldn't figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Now?

I think maybe we're allowed to keep growing up.

We're allowed to change.

We're allowed to decide something isn't right anymore.

We're allowed to start over at 25, 45, 65, or next Tuesday if that's when life falls apart.

That's not failure.

That's life.

AND THEN THERE'S BEING A WOMAN.

Oh boy.

Can we talk about this?

The motherhood nobody puts on Instagram.

Watching your kids grow up while simultaneously being incredibly proud of them and wanting to yell, “WAIT. COME BACK. I WASN'T DONE.”

The changing body.

The relationships.

The friendships that change.

The careers that don't go according to plan.

The caregiving.

The exhaustion.

The guilt.

The expectations.

The mental list running through your head while someone is literally asking you where something is that is DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THEM.

And somehow, we're supposed to act like we have this figured out.

We don't.

None of us do.

And maybe we'd all feel a little better if we admitted that more often.

AND THEN SOMETIMES YOUR BODY JOINS THE CONVERSATION.

I've had my own history with chronic illness and women's health.

Now I've watched my daughters navigate their own.

I've watched women I love live with pain that other people can't see.

I've watched them explain symptoms.

Explain them again.

Wonder if they're overreacting.

Wonder if they should go to the doctor.

Wonder if they'll be believed when they get there.

Endometriosis. Autoimmune disease. EDS. RA. Lupus. Chronic pain. Invisible illness.

Different diagnoses.

Far too many similar stories.

And somewhere along the way I became very tired of women feeling like they have to prove that something hurts before they're allowed to say:

This hurts.

So, we're going to talk about it here.

Not because we're doctors.

We're not.

We're women.

And women's experiences deserve to be part of the conversation.

SO… WE MADE SOME STUFF.

Because apparently talking about all of this wasn't enough.

My mom and I make things together.

She sews.

I come up with ideas.

There is fabric everywhere.

Someone can't find the scissors.

Someone probably had the scissors five minutes ago.

There is laughing.

There is occasional frustration.

There is definitely coffee.

And eventually, something gets made.

Our things aren't rolling off an assembly line somewhere.

They're made by actual hands.

Sometimes the stitching might not be absolutely, robotically perfect.

A seam may have a little personality.

Two handmade pieces may not look exactly identical.

Good.

Neither do women.

What you're holding was made by a mother and daughter sitting together, creating something, probably talking about life while we did it.

Made with love. Made with laughter. Made by real women for real life.

We'll take that over factory-perfect any day.

SO… EVERYTHING HURTS.

We made comfort packs.

Because sometimes your back hurts.

Sometimes your neck hurts.

Sometimes cramps are rude.

Sometimes chronic pain shows up uninvited.

And sometimes you slept slightly wrong and apparently that's enough to ruin an entire Tuesday.

Welcome to Everything Hurts.

We get it.

SO… HOLDING IT TOGETHER.

We made scrunchies.

Because sometimes the only thing we're successfully holding together is our hair.

Still counts.

SO… WHERE ARE MY KEYS?

Wristlets.

Because we can't help you remember why you walked into the kitchen, but maybe we can help you keep track of your keys.

No promises.

SO… MY BODY HAS OPINIONS.

Then there are the roller balls.

Because sometimes you need a minute.

Actually, sometimes you need seventeen minutes, a locked bathroom door and for absolutely nobody to ask you another f#ck-ing question.

We couldn't put that on the bottle.

Okay, technically we could.

Mom said no.

So, we made aromatic rollers instead.

Little blends for those very real moments when you want to roll something on, inhale, regroup and carry on with whatever fresh nonsense the day has prepared for you.

No magical promises.

No pretending an essential oil fixes your life.

Just a little ritual that says:

Give me a minute.

BUT THE GOODS ARE ONLY HALF THE STORY.

Because So This Is Life isn't just a shop.

It's a place to talk about being a woman without pretending it's always beautiful.

We want to talk about motherhood.

Chronic illness.

Women's health.

Marriage.

Friendship.

Bodies.

Caregiving.

Aging.

Starting over.

Kids growing up.

Careers changing.

Losing ourselves.

Finding ourselves.

And those completely ordinary moments that somehow become the stories we remember forever.

Some of it will be funny.

Some of it will be uncomfortable.

Some of it might make you angry.

Some of it might make you cry.

And hopefully every once in a while, you'll read something and think:

Oh my God. Me too.

That's why we're here.

THIS ISN'T ABOUT HAVING IT ALL FIGURED OUT.

Quite the opposite.

This is for the woman starting over.

The woman absolutely crushing it.

The woman quietly struggling.

The woman raising babies.

The woman watching hers leave home.

The woman living with a body that doesn't always cooperate.

The woman taking care of everyone else.

The woman learning to take care of herself.

The woman who changed her mind.

Again.

The woman who has absolutely no idea what comes next.

Pull up a chair.

You're in good company.

SO… THIS IS LIFE.

Stories for real women.
Goods made for real life.

Made with love, laughter, imperfect stitches, probably misplaced scissors, and the belief that the real stuff is worth talking about.

We're glad you're here.

— Heather + Mom