Whole World Baby

We invited to our Whole World Baby launch party a community of like-minded women to celebrate our new mark on baby fashion, but it transcended headscarves for kids and became an uplifting celebration of innovative, powerful women making their mark on the world. One special woman, who is perfectly in line with the women we gathered at our launch is actress, filmmaker, green advocate, mother, Alysia Reiner. But living on the east coast, being a mom to an adorable one year old daughter, Livia, and attending a film festival to celebrate a film in which she wrote, produced, and starred are pretty good reasons not to be able to make the launch, so she’s off the hook.

Alysia Reiner at the Hamptons Int'l Film Festival with her one-year-old daughter, Livia, wearing a WWooBie in "Silver Spots with Cherry Dots"

Alysia is one of those women who lives what she believes – she and her actor husband, David Alan Basche, have been tireless advocates of sustainable living long before it was trendy, even being featured in a web series for “Dwell” magazine throughout the green renovation of their Harlem brownstone.

And in addition to her impressive acting credits (which include The Vicious Kind, Sideways, Starter Wife, 30 Rock, Sopranos, just to name a few). Alysia recently added the role of “Mother” to her resume, giving birth a year ago to her ridiculously beautiful daughter, Livia Charles. You’d think that would be enough to keep a lady busy, but she can now add “Writer and  Producer” to her growing list.

Alysia’s film, “Speed Grieving” was inspired by her experience with the death of her father in a rapid battle with cancer.  The hope is that it can serve others as they deal with the unpredictable and seldom talked-about process of dealing with the loss of a loved one. And the goal is that it will be used in clinics, hospitals, and hospices to make grief a little less lonely for those suffering and serve as a reminder that staying PRESENT is the most serene way out of the disorienting black hole of grief.

At our launch party, we raised our glasses to women who are using their unique talents to bring change to the world, so to Alysia, who wasn’t able to be there – here’s to you – a true innovator, passionate mother, relentless activist, inspiring artist, and DIVERSIFIER. Bravo!

She’s a reminder to women everywhere to live passionately and out loud – there’s no better way to teach our children than by example. I’m sure she’s made her Pops so very proud.

Sometimes when I consider the fueling motto of our company, “Family First,” I realize how fundamentally sensitive a company we are.  And feminine—it’s so motherly.  This surely isn’t a motto that will drive the bottom line, or one that will even force a deadline.  And most definitely isn’t the primary tenet of capitalism.  Yet as a mother, I cannot imagine doing business any other way.   I consider an email from my partner Stacey just today saying that she can’t do our weekly meeting on Friday because her family needs to spend time together—and neither Adrianne, our third partner, nor I even question—enough said.

As three mothers, this ideology was the first we hinged on—it was the corner stone of Whole World Baby, and although perhaps it has slowed our productivity and certainly hindered our focus, it marks the only kind of company of which I could be a part.  I’m a mother, first and foremost, and my first priority is keeping my family strong and healthy—because without that, who cares how much money you make or how productive you are?

And in a bigger picture, this “Family First” motto also lends itself quite obviously to our business model as a whole:  Giving back to the children of the world and taking care of our Mother Earth, our world, in the process.  The three of us feel a pull and obligation to put family (even if not our own) first in our business mission—by donating 25% of our profits directly to organizations around the world that foster, feed, protect, and educate children.   And we also put our family first by our commitment to be as green and eco-friendly as humanly possible, because our planet is the home to our global family.

I like to imagine what the world would be like if every company hummed to our motto—but then I realize that I just want my cell phone to function, just want my stove to work when I turn on the gas, just want my car to be reliable. Maybe “Family First,” in the sense of making family a priority over production, doesn’t need to be the motto for every company.

Being the “old mom” of the three of us, I watch my partners struggle with many of the decisions I too had when I was a new mom with my first child. I watch and listen and secretly smile inside, knowing they will make the best choices they can, regardless of any advice I might slip out.

It’s so hard sometimes to just listen. I so much want to share with them what decision I would make and all the reasons etc. Then however I remember, just as I watch new moms hover over their first new baby wanting to protect them from every tiny pain they might encounter, pricking their finger on a rose, falling from a single step or preventing them from a bump if they trip, all these little “mistakes” are really just natural lessons.

Pain is a lesson in all its degrees, it’s not bad, it is simply a lesson of what doesn’t work. We can, at times overprotect too much so our children learn the lesson in some other way, we may also be teaching them not to trust your warnings if the consequence doesn’t happen. Through this lesson of wanting to be the “knowing experienced mom”, I suddenly realized that what I was judging as the “awful critics in my head”, shaming and criticizing me, causing me deep pain at times, really was the same voice.  I was once told that within the sadness lies the answer. Through the compassion for our critic and the understanding of the underlining message it speaks, we grow.

I’m not suggesting you allow your child to fall down a set of stairs, or allow them to put their hand in fire, nor am I suggesting we allow our critics to overwork us into paralyzing depression. It seems to be all a careful balance. Whether we are one or fifty, we all learn from mistakes, our sadness and confusions. So as I watch, I remind myself, my partners aren’t going to harm their babies with any decision they make about whether they choose to eat organic or not, whether they breastfeed for a year or two or even harder decisions like whether to vaccinate or watch your baby suffer through childhood diseases.

All our lessons, be it thru pain or joy, create our diverse and beautiful selves, and I smile with a reminder, we are all doing the best we can.

My daughter Ava, 21 months is joyfully shouting “Toy!” at the top of her little but powerful lungs on a rainy Thursday morning in South Jersey. I am still waking up but am on a second cup of decaf coffee and wistfully remembering my own youth in this old shore house when I was the one demanding round 200 of Candy Land. The “toy” she is referring to is my hand me down 1967 Fisher Price Family Farm filled with cows, sheep, horses and an odd lot of about 10 mini people each with exactly the same face but decidedly different hair or hats. I can’t help but notice that all the mini people are clearly Caucasian and wonder to myself if my beautiful little girl who is half Latina will notice that. Part of me is thrilled that it probably wouldn’t even occur to her and the other part saddened that back in 1967 there weren’t any options. That lack of options and what always felt like a terribly unjust world led me to the forefront of many “causes” before I ever dreamed of being a mother.

Once I got to college in the big city in the late 80’s I was shocked to see the streets lined with bodies; old, young, male, female and even whole families. I could not fathom how all of these people could be “homeless”, a term I’d only just learned upon my arrival in Philadelphia. One chance meeting with a group of people who were homeless after being locked out of my college apartment and an activist was born. Within months studies took a backseat to my endeavors to understand and eradicate this injustice. I wrote letters, performed plays, marched in protests and collected blankets for my new friends. All of this was almost inconceivable to most of my family and friends back home who were raised with a blue collar work ethic and set of circumstances that prevented them from understanding how this terrible misfortune could befall so many. Needless to say it was a time of tremendous growth and difficulty. Candy Land and summers “down the shore” began to feel like a distant dream as I woke up to the realities of the world. I’d held homeless newborns in my arms on dirty street corners for homeless mothers trying to make the impossible decision to turn their babies over to social services. The look in their eyes said they knew this was no place for a child. I started to wonder if I could ever bring a life into this brutal world.

Twenty years later and I find myself on Sudanese soil holding a newborn Darfur refugee in my arms. She has only ever known life here and half of her family has been brutally murdered and displaced by a genocidal government. Half way around the world and I see a familiar look in this mother’s eyes; hopelessness. There are thousands of children in every camp I visit and thousands more still making the long dangerous trek to relative safety. I am in my late 30’s and again wondering how I could ever bring life into a world so cold. I wonder how this all began, the brutality and disregard for human life. Although we said, “Never Again” the world still sits by and watches. Perhaps we dehumanize each other with all of our labeling and judgment. Every time we say “those people over there are always fighting” we take a stand for separatism and judgment instead of empathy for our fellow man and solutions for our problems.

 We conceived my daughter the day I returned from the refugee camps. I believe that her father and I were taking a stand for humanity, love and new beginnings that day. She arrived in a home birth after 32 hours and took our world by storm. She renewed my faith in humanity. With that renewal, came a call to conscious parenting and regrettably much of my “activism” was put on hold as I learned how to be truly present for my daughter. I struggled to put the Blackberry down and surrender to this new life. Somewhere in the back of my head or deep in my heart Walt Whitman’s words kept echoing” Produce great persons and the rest follows.” 

So this rainy morning in South Jersey when my daughter asks for her toys for the 100^th time I tell her,” Go get mama the Family Farm and we’ll play.” I tell myself that I am teaching her to participate in life and not expect everything to be done for her but truth be told I am partially being lazy. That laziness is followed by a wave of guilt for all the people and causes that I have left behind to play with The Fisher Price Family Farm. Just then, Ava toddles in proudly with her toy and says,” Here, Mama!” I open my mouth to say “Good Girl!” but something catches my tongue. I hear Whitman’s ghost whisper in my ear and am reminded that is not my job to judge, label or evaluate my daughter’s person. If she is decreed a good girl then she will surmise she also has the potential to be a bad girl. With two tiny words I have the power to embark her on a life long journey of self criticism or self reflection. A simple change of one word and I am doing my greatest work, “Good job!”  She is not good or bad, she simply is and to evaluate her person as opposed to her behavior is a great disservice.

With all the activism I participated in the greatest lesson I learned is that all the injustices of the world begin at home in tiny almost inconceivable ways by families doing the best they can with what they know.   Of course our children grow up and go to school and out into the community and are influenced there as well. I know it is frightening for all of us as parents or as children of parents we revered or feared that we might have been getting some things wrong for all these years. We all might however stand a better chance of a better world if every playmate, teacher or employer had a mother or father who decided to try another way. We do better when we know better and communication and empathy are as valid skills as math and science to the survival of our species; perhaps more so.  After all in this modern world we really are a global village and therefore one big family. Maybe that’s what the 1967 Fisher Price Family Farm was really meant to teach me.

-          by Stacey Martino, partner in Whole World Baby

The last 21 months, 30 if you include my pregnancy I’ve been trying to let go of who I was and figure out who I am becoming. Once an artist and activist who traveled the world doing both, I find myself in strange new territory. I have started a business with two powerful women who are equally dedicated to both motherhood and creating a world that works for everyone. This business allows us to work at home with our daughters nearby while still having a far reach out into the world. We sell darling eco friendly organic headscarves for babies with 25% donated to children’s aid organizations around the globe. What we are really selling however is a new era. We are women selling the idea that it is possible to be hands on mothers, artists, businesswomen and still leave the world a better place for our children. It sounded so simple when we began; every day since has been a joyous challenge to make that idea a reality.

My two partners, a Broadway actress and an Architect for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department have led adventurous lives. None of us had ever started a business before and we each had our reasons to try now. Those reasons ranged from leaving a legacy for our daughters, paying our bills doing something we loved, to making a difference in the world while sharing this unique fashion accessory that had people stopping us on every street corner to admire. Our startup business was slow but our patience was endless. Diapers, nursing, runny noses and noisy children seemed to halt our every effort but there is no tenacity and reserve of energy in the world like those of a mother. There was a silent agreement between the three of us, family first, which kept us from blowing up each time we missed a deadline or forgot a conference call. It contrasted sharply with my work with women who were not mothers. Not better or worse just different. There was a softness that had long been missing in my life after years of hard driving and ambitious living to become something worthwhile.

It struck me one day in the midst of trying to juggle motherhood and business that many women had paid a high price for my chance to participate in that struggle. I thought of the women in the 1950’s and 60’s who mothered a generation day in and day out with absolutely no choice of any other life. It was their “duty” to bake pies, mend hems and serve dinners while many a life’s dream to dance, travel or run a business quietly disappeared into the night. Then I thought of the women in my mother’s generation, many of whom were single mothers in the divorce boom of the 70’s and 80’s who wanted nothing more than to be home with their babies but had to work the early shift, late shift or pull a double. I thought of the women on the forefront of the women’s lib movement who fought the hard and won the battle so my partners and I could make the choices we were making today.  One generation had to sacrifice their dreams of a life outside the home while the next often had to sacrifice their dreams of life within the home.

Now, every time I sit down for a Whole World Baby meeting with my babe at breast while my one partner’s babe is gleefully hanging off the banister for the 3^rd time and my other partner is juggling her full time job and phone calls from 3 teenage daughters, I smile. I smile in spite of the chaos because I recognize that I am becoming one of the women who is paving the way for our daughters choices. I am consciously parenting my daughter and serving dinners (although I have yet to bake a pie or mend a hem) and not one ounce of resentment or a sense lost dreams runs through my veins. I am creating a business from the ground up with two strong, opinionated and passionate women and loving every minute of it while still being there for my daughter’s first steps, first words and first days. There are still days when I feel lost and overwhelmed but those days are eased with the knowledge that it is possible to have both realized dreams and fulfilled daughters. On those days I feel the millions of mothers who came before me cheering me on somewhere in the distance and I feel grateful.     

Stacey Martino