I just wanted a baby book that fit my family.

Five years ago, when I was expecting my oldest daughter, I went to a bookstore to buy a first-year baby book. I am a solo mother by choice, and my girls were born with the help of a donor. Every book on the shelf assumed the same family: a page for dad, a page for dad's side, spaces that simply did not belong to us. I bought one anyway and spent the evening quietly crossing things out.

I remember thinking that someone should make a book that fits every family, not just one shape of it. But I was a first-time mum running on very little sleep, and building anything felt impossible. So the idea waited.

Fast forward five years. I was expecting my second daughter, and I picked up my oldest girl's baby book again. It was half finished, full of empty photo spots and good intentions. I felt that quiet pang so many parents know. That was the moment I decided to actually build the thing I had wished for all those years before.

It took longer than I hoped, and my youngest is almost one now. Along the way the idea grew up too. Instead of a book that stops after the first year, Magic Baby Books became a home for the whole of childhood, not just the newborn days.

There was another reason I kept going. My family lives in a different part of Sweden, and I wanted to be a bigger part of my children's everyday life, and them a bigger part of mine. This year my brother and sister both became parents. My brother's daughter is more than three months old, and I have seen maybe two photos of her. I did not want that distance for any of us.