My first son had just been born, and I wanted to cloth diaper him. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a good local source for the diapers I wanted. So I did the completely rational thing: I made them myself.

They were pretty good. Then I sold a few. And that, more or less, is how Bumby happened.

As it turns out: pretty hard. But also very fun.

Then Someone Mentioned Wool

I'm originally from New Zealand. My mum worked on a sheep farm before I was born, and we had family involved in the sheep industry. So wool was never some mysterious luxury fibre to me. Wool was just... wool. Practical. Reliable. Familiar.

About a year into cloth diapering, someone suggested I try wool covers. And somehow, despite my entire family history, my first reaction was essentially:

Apparently yes. And once I tried it, I was done for.

Wool is breathable. It helps regulate temperature. It can absorb an astonishing amount of moisture. Lanolin gives it some extremely useful properties. It doesn't need to be washed nearly as often as people assume. Basically, wool behaves like a fibre that is quietly showing off.

People call it the miracle fibre, and after working with it for nearly two decades, I have yet to find a compelling argument against that description. Wool became the foundation of Bumby. And I became the woman who could talk about wool for an uncomfortable amount of time at parties.

Bumby: Take Two

After my second son was born, we moved and I shut Bumby down for a while. I did some babysitting. And I missed making cloth diapers far more than I expected. So naturally, I started again.

That decision would eventually lead to me meeting Becky. Becky has now been with Bumby for nine years and is one of my best friends. I like to say she's woven directly into the fabric of Bumby, which is both sentimental and conveniently on-brand. Rhonda joined us a few months later.

For years, the three of us worked out of my basement. At the time, Becky and I each had a two-year-old and a four-year-old. So picture four small children running through the house while three women tried to operate a growing manufacturing business downstairs.

It was basically a highly specialized Canadian cottage industry with snacks.

From the Basement to Busting at the Seams

Eventually, Bumby outgrew the basement. Today, we work out of roughly 1,500 square feet of industrial space. And we are, quite literally, busting at the seams.

There are more incredible women on the team now. We still laugh a lot. We still genuinely like one another, which I've learned is something you should never take for granted when you spend this many hours together surrounded by fabric, machines, deadlines, and occasionally very strange customer requests.

Over the years, Bumby expanded far beyond diaper covers. We made clothing for babies, then kids, then adults. Leggings, hoodies, dresses, tanks, pants, sweaters, blankets, and enough custom designs that I have probably stared at more colour combinations than any human reasonably should.

Somewhere along the way we built digital fitting systems, custom sizing processes, colour tools, woolboards, and increasingly elaborate ways for people to say: "I like this... but could you change everything about it?"

And my answer was usually: Absolutely.

The Part Where Bumby Comes Full Circle

For years, Bumby grew outward. More garments, more sizes, more styles, more possibilities. But eventually something interesting happened: the business started circling back toward the problem that started everything. Diapering. Only now, we understood the problem much more broadly.

Babies aren't the only people who need help managing one of the most basic functions of the human body. Kids do. Teenagers do. Adults do. Seniors do. People recovering from surgery do. People with disabilities do. Caregivers deal with it every day. And the available solutions are often highly synthetic, highly disposable, uncomfortable, or treated like something that should be hidden and never discussed.

Which seems ridiculous. Human bodies do human-body things.

So Bumby's next chapter has become increasingly focused on natural-fibre incontinence solutions for every stage of life. Wool is still at the centre of it. Now we're pairing it with other natural fibres and applying everything we've learned about fit, absorbency, comfort, durability, and customization to something people rarely want to talk about but millions of people need.

That Question Has Pretty Much Run My Entire Life

If there is one theme running through the history of Bumby, it is probably that I have a slight problem accepting that something has to stay the way it is.

I love choice. I don't particularly enjoy telling people what they should buy. I'd rather collaborate.

Tell me about your family. Tell me what isn't working. Tell me what your kid hates wearing. Tell me what leaks. Tell me what feels uncomfortable. Tell me what you wish existed. Then we can figure it out together.

Because the best products Bumby has ever created usually began with someone saying: "This might sound weird, but..."

Those are my favourite conversations.

And Somehow, We're Still Here

Bumby has survived babies, toddlers, basement manufacturing, business pivots, supply-chain adventures, website rebuilds, economic chaos, international customers, thousands of custom garments, and me having approximately seventeen new ideas before breakfast.

It has changed enormously. But the core of it really hasn't. We're still a small Canadian company filled with people who care deeply about what we're making. We're still trying to make practical things beautiful. We're still trying to make uncomfortable problems easier to talk about. We're still trying to give people more choices instead of fewer.

And I'm still completely obsessed with wool. Apparently my sheep-farming ancestors knew what they were doing. It just took me a baby, a kitchen table, and about twenty years to fully appreciate it.