The mental load is real.
We build the apps that carry it.

Everyone on the same page, in real time.

"Mom logs at the doctor's. Dad's phone updates at home."

Share a person with the other parent, a grandparent, a sitter — each with the right level of access. Read-only for the babysitter. Full co-owner for the other parent. Time-boxed for the grandparent visiting this month. Changes sync within seconds, and the admin can revoke anyone, anytime. Each co-caregiver gets their own private, encrypted access to just the person you're sharing — encrypted the whole way, so only your circle can read it.

One app across the whole household.

Care is organized by domain — feeding, medical, body care, safety, mental health, memory & dementia, insurance — and each one auto-tunes to the person it's for. A toddler's profile surfaces milestones and sensory needs; an elder's surfaces fall risk, comfort care, and orientation cues. The same calm interface, shaped to whoever you're caring for.

The clinical knowledge, in plain language.

Bundled and offline: CDC developmental milestones, a medication library (RxNorm), diet-texture levels (IDDSI), diagnosis explanations (ICD-10 / DSM-5 in caregiver words), AAC vocabulary, and crisis lines. Look up what a term means, what a milestone is, or which textures are safe — without a signal, without leaving the app, without a search engine's worth of noise.

It gives you the question to ask.

"Wait — should I be asking about those two together?"

Add a medication and CareHaven flags well-known cautions between common drug classes — the ones that come up most in ADHD, autism, epilepsy, mental health, and elder care — drawn from FDA labeling and public clinical references. It doesn't diagnose interactions, and it won't catch everything: it hands you a specific, informed question for the prescriber or pharmacist, which is the one thing caregivers say they never have in the room. On-device, no account, no data sent anywhere.

The mental load digest.

"Nothing needs you right now."

A small, calm card on home that pulls together the open loops — appointments today and tomorrow, low-supply meds, follow-ups you haven't closed. When the list is empty, it says so. That moment of green is real. The card exists for it.

"What I did today."

"You showed up today. That counts."

Inside the wellbeing surface, a quiet count of every care moment you delivered today — feedings, sleep tracked, behaviors logged, notes written, check-ins. So a caregiver who feels like they "didn't do anything" can see what the truth actually was.

"I'm stuck."

Six flavors of stuck — overwhelmed, perfectionism, burnout, can't decide, avoiding, hopeless — each with four or five concrete things to try. Anti-Planner-inspired. No logging, no analysis, no nag. Pick the one that resonates, take what helps, leave the rest.

For the moment that's actually happening.

Three tools, one segmented control: a breathing orb that scales with inhale and exhale (box or 4-7-8), a clean countdown timer, and a 5-4-3-2-1 grounding deck. Calmer chrome, soft animation, no analytics. Built for in-crisis use — caregivers, and the people they care for.

One tap drops 30 days of care into the visit summary.

Auto-fill pulls a deterministic recap of the last 30 days — feedings, sleep quality and wakings, seizures by type, behaviors by kind, most-recent vitals, active medications, and the life-context that's currently on. Edit before you save. Show up at the appointment with the recap already drafted instead of typing it from scratch.

Record the visit — pause, resume, replay later.

Hit record at the start. Live transcription appears as the doctor speaks, on-device, never sent to a server. Step out for a private side conversation, hit pause; resume when you're back and the transcript picks up with a timestamp marker so you can find that moment. The audio file saves alongside the visit — replay it later when you can't remember what dose the doctor said.

Eighteen demo profiles, each shaped like a real care life.

Settings → Demo loads a fictional caregiver journal alongside your own — eighteen to choose from, all fully populated. A newborn with night feeds, a four-year-old with Down syndrome learning to sign, an AAC user with cerebral palsy, a profoundly deaf child whose primary language is ASL, a child with PKU on a metabolic clinic schedule, a Type 1 diabetes teen with autism, a young adult transitioning out of pediatric services, an elder with Alzheimer's on comfort care. Load one, see how the surfaces respond to a profile shaped like yours. Remove them all in one tap when you're done exploring.

Your sleep, alongside theirs.

"You're in the same dataset."

Optional Apple Health integration writes the caregiver's own sleep, heart rate, and mindful minutes into a separate lane in Patterns. The app stops pretending you're invisible — run low on sleep three nights in a row, and the chart shows it next to the seizure-free streak it might explain. Stays on the caregiver's phone, never shared with the rest of the household.

One-tap logging from the wrist.

Feeding, potty, regulation check-in, behavior note, a quick win — each a single tap on the watch face. The entry lands on the phone before you're back at the counter. Built for the seconds between things, when reaching for the phone isn't an option.

Bedside ambient mode.

Charge the iPhone on its side at night and StandBy renders a calm day-shape with the day's care moments, the active person's name, and the next appointment. Dim, glanceable, no notifications waking anyone up. The 3 a.m. medication question answered without unlocking the phone.

Brief a sitter without making them install anything.

Hold the iPhone near theirs — NameDrop transfers a one-time, time-boxed sitter brief through Apple's App Clip path. They see today's plan, current cues, emergency contacts, and active medications. The packet's expiry window is yours to set — a single shift, a school day, a weekend respite. No account, no download, no follow-up. The window closes when you say so.

Hands-free logging when both hands are full.

"Hey Siri, log Maya a bottle." "What's next on Zoe's schedule?" Native App Intents wire every logging surface to Siri and the Shortcuts app, so a quick voice request hits the same data the app reads. Useful in the car, in a hospital chair, mid-feed.

The AAC phrase library, in the care recipient's own voice.

iOS 17 added Personal Voice — anyone can record their own voice into the system, and apps with permission can speak as them. CareHaven's communication library hooks in: tap a phrase, hear it spoken in the voice the person chose for themselves. For families navigating a degenerative diagnosis, this surface preserves something precious. For everyone else, a more natural voice than the default robotic one.

A care session you're inside of, on the Lock Screen.

Start a feed, a calming routine, or a doctor visit and a Live Activity pins it to the Lock Screen + Dynamic Island. Glance at the elapsed time without unlocking; tap to end. The same pattern the system uses for timers and pizza deliveries, applied to the care moments that fill a day.