Made at 3am
A baby tracker from two unprepared parents.
One shared log for the grandmother, the doula, the night nurse and both of you — and the same numbers on every phone in the house.
The question, twenty times a day
“When did he last eat?”
You will ask it, and be asked it, more times than you can imagine — every time someone hands him over, every time you wake up not knowing how long you slept. We got tired of doing the maths, so we put the answer at the very top of the screen: how long ago, how much, and when the next one is due. Nobody has to text anybody. Nobody has to wake anybody up to ask.
Whoever logged it, on whichever phone. The clock is the same for everyone in the household.
The people who actually help
It takes a village
The grandmother who stays over. A doula for the first month. The night nurse, and the friend who takes Tuesdays. Add them and they log what they do — so everyone is working from the same numbers instead of the same group chat, and nobody has to be woken up to be asked.
Everybody else in your life — the godparents, the aunt three time zones away, the friends who just want to see him — gets the part they actually want. The baby pictures, and nothing else: not the log, not the weights, not the emergency card.
The part everybody actually loves
One photo a day, for the people you chose
A picture of him every day, in a private gallery with a comment thread under each one — the grandparents, the godparents and the aunt three time zones away all get to follow along. No feed, no algorithm, no strangers, and nobody filing your child’s face away for as long as they exist. It is the reason a lot of families stay, and the part we would least like to give up.
The number your pediatrician gave you
How much he needs today, and how much he’s had
Our doctor gave us a number — millilitres per kilo per day — and then we had to work out what that meant for a baby who was a different weight every week, at three in the morning, on no sleep. So Milo does that sum for you. Put in the figure your pediatrician gave you, and every day it shows you how much he needs, how much he’s had, and whether you are ahead or behind for this hour of the day.
When the doctor changes the number, the old one stays on the old days — last month’s chart still tells you the truth about last month, and you can see how far you have come.
Suggestions are rules of thumb, not medical advice — your pediatrician’s number wins, and the app says so where you set it.
Bottle, breast and pump
One log, however he is fed
Two taps to log a bottle. Nursing records time on each side and never invents a volume — that number is unknowable, and a guess would poison the totals. Pumping is tracked on its own, because the person pumping has a schedule of their own to keep.
Your pediatrician, and the bad night
Every new-parent question, ready when you are
You will have a hundred questions and none of them at the appointment. So stop keeping the list in your head: queue them up as they come to you, at 4am or in the car, and when you are in the room, whip out your phone and ask every last one. Take notes on the answers. Track the shots. Walk in with the numbers your doctor is about to ask for — weight and height against the curves, intake and nappies per day — on one page that prints.
And for the other kind of night: who to call, where to go, and what he weighs right now, a few taps away and on every phone that is allowed to have it. This happened to us. We needed this page, and we did not have it — so now it exists.
Why this exists
Our son was born at 35 weeks
An emergency C-section, weeks before we were ready, and a baby who had not yet learned how to eat. We spent that first week counting millilitres on paper at a hospital, on no sleep, and losing the paper. Milo is what we built instead — one bad night at a time, while we needed it.
Read our story →We are parents too
We’ll keep it private and secure
We have exactly the same worries you do. We had them first about our own son — and we had to decide whether we trusted anybody with his record before we ever asked you to trust us with yours.
So your family’s log stays private, and it stays yours. It is encrypted on the way to us and while it sits with us, your household is walled off from every other one by the database itself, and photos are served through links that expire rather than public URLs. Take all of it with you as a CSV whenever you like, or ask us to delete it, and we will.
We built the app we wanted and could not find. Now you can use it too.
On the phone in your hand
Milo installs to the home screen and works like an app — and the same log opens on a tablet by the changing table or a laptop at the kitchen counter, where it spreads out into two panes. Bring your history with you: a Nara Baby export imports in one upload.
A small, free beta. Invites go out by hand, a few at a time.