For the person who is
quietly carrying everything.
The feeds, the naps, the next appointment, the worry at 3am. It usually lives in one parent's head, or on one phone. Cubby is where you can finally set it down.
It starts the way it always starts. A test with two lines, or a tiny person home from the hospital, and a love so big it doesn't fit in your chest. And then, underneath it, a quieter thing nobody warns you about: you are now the keeper of a thousand small details, and most of them live nowhere but in your tired memory.
When was the last feed. Which side. Did the medicine get given, or did we just talk about giving it. Is this rash the normal kind. When is the 16-week jab. You become the database for a whole new human, and you are running it at 3am, on no sleep, alone, while everyone keeps asking how are they sleeping? as if you'd know, as if you weren't the one awake.
We didn't want a tracker that adds one more thing to manage.
We wanted somewhere to put it all down.
So the rule for Cubby became simple: the moment you open it, the noise should get quieter, not louder. No guilt streaks. No red badges shouting at a parent who is already doing their best. A still day is allowed. A gap is a chapter, not a failure. And you are never the only one who knows, because caring for a child was never meant to be carried by one person.
Shared with your circle.
And yet, where it matters, yours alone.
Here's the line we refuse to blur. The baby's day belongs to the whole care circle, partner, grandparents, the nanny, so no one is left guessing. But a mother's own body is not a family feed. Your weight, your blood pressure, your glucose, your pregnancy, those live in your space, shared item by item with only the people you choose. And your mood notes can never be shared with anyone, ever. Not by us, not by a setting we could silently flip later. It's built into the lock.
What Cubby will never do
A safe place is only safe if some doors are bolted shut. These aren't preferences. They're vows, written into how the app is built.
The things we build into the product
Promises are easy. Here's where each one actually lives.
Your log is locked to the people you invite, enforced by server-side rules, encrypted in transit and at rest.
See how privacy works →No ads, no trackers, never sold. Export everything as a file, or delete it permanently, yourself, anytime.
Your data, your control →Nothing is shared until you say so, item by item. Mood notes can never be shared with anyone.
See the pregnancy space →Logging, sharing, your country's vaccine schedule, growth and health, free, always.
See pricing →Our schedules and articles come from official sources, fetched fresh and verified at the URL. We tell you plainly what we don't yet have, including that we're still appointing a named clinical reviewer.
Read our editorial process →We didn't set out to build an app. We set out to stop drowning.
We were two parents with a new baby, a nanny during the day, grandparents who wanted to help, and absolutely no shared idea of what had happened in the last six hours. The feeds lived in one person's head. The worry lived in another's. The photos were scattered across four phones. We tried the existing trackers and they felt like spreadsheets built by people who'd never been awake at 3am: loud, lonely, and a little judgmental.
So we built the thing we needed: one calm place, shared with everyone who loved her, private where it counted, ours to keep. The day she arrived, there was no new app to download, the pregnancy simply became her first chapter. That's the whole idea. One story, from two lines to a big kid, that never restarts.
It's still early, and it's still shaped by real families. Every note you send in the app is read by a person, and it changes what we build next. If Cubby makes one 3am feel a little less lonely, it has done its job.
Come in. Set the weight down.
Free to start, private to your family, ready in seconds, no app store and no password.
Start free 🐻