What happens when your biggest launch fails two hours in? Christine Itwaru (VP of Product at Userflow) shares how going into "mama bear mode" saved her team—and changed how she leads forever.
.jpg)
Two months into her first Director of Product role. The company's biggest launch ever just went live. And two hours later, everything is falling apart.
Support tickets are exploding. Customers are furious. CS doesn't know what to do. And the PM who had poured months into this launch — barely sleeping, doing her very best — is getting hit from every direction at once.
Most product leaders in that moment would convene a war room, start asking what went wrong, or go looking for answers. Christine Itwaru did something different. She stepped in front of the chaos and said: I got you.
Christine shared this story on Episode 2 of the Product Leaders Lab, where she and Matt LeMay each walked through how they navigated a catastrophic product launch — and what they'd do differently.
Here's the twist in Christine's story. The product didn't fail.
"It wasn't failed, but what failed was the collaboration and the communication and the readiness across the organization. Because that product is still in existence today and it's still making a ton of money for that company."
The code was good. The experience was solid. The PM had done her job. What failed was everything around the product — the invisible infrastructure that determines whether a launch lands or collapses.
Support didn't know how to handle the tickets. Sales didn't know how to position it. Marketing wasn't aligned. There was no enablement documentation, no escalation channels, no communication flows. The product team had shipped something real and valuable. The rest of the organization wasn't ready to receive it.
This is one of the most common — and least discussed — failure modes in B2B product launches. Teams optimize relentlessly for what they ship and almost never for whether the organization is ready to support it. The result is exactly what Christine walked into: a good product drowning in organizational chaos.
Christine's immediate response had nothing to do with diagnosing the failure. It had everything to do with protecting her team.
She called it going into "mama bear mode" — and it's worth understanding exactly what that looked like in practice, because it wasn't soft or vague. It was precise.
Step one: pull the PM back from the chaos. Her PM's inbox was blowing up — Support, Sales, Leadership, everyone asking "what's happening?" Christine stepped in immediately.
"I'm gonna take this. Here's where I need you to just back off from Slack. So you just shut this world out."
She gave her PM three specific things to focus on in the next hour, and three things for the hour after that. Everything else was going through Christine.
Step two: take ownership publicly. Christine didn't let the PM absorb the blame. She took it herself — openly, in front of the organization.
"I did not insert myself as much as I probably should have into the entire thing. I should have stepped in a bit more."
This matters more than it might seem. The PM wasn't worried about losing her job — the company had a culture where mistakes were acceptable. What she was worried about was perception. Trust. Whether anyone would ever give her a launch this big again.
"What she was concerned about was perception and impact, and as a product manager, we've all been there. We all have imposter syndrome. We all want to do well."
Christine taking public ownership protected the PM's confidence at the exact moment it was most fragile.
Step three: all hands on deck. Christine pulled in the other PMs and told them to drop what they were doing. Not to take over the launch — to give the lead PM breathing room. Support the person, not just the product.
Step four: no retro right now. When someone asked if they could run a post-mortem immediately, Christine shut it down.
"Absolutely not. How do we do this right now? Let's go make sure our customers are okay. Then we worry about the retro."
The retro happened a week or two later. Not in the middle of the fire.
Christine's instinct to protect her team wasn't just good management. It came from somewhere personal.
She'd been in that seat. She knew exactly what it felt like to think everything was fine — to have poured yourself into something — and then watch it fall apart in real time. She knew what the PM was carrying.
"I really felt deeply because I was in her seat and I was in that space where like I thought everything was okay and maybe I should have said something but because I was nervous and I wanted to impress, I didn't."
That empathy is what drove the speed of her response. She wasn't analyzing the situation. She was recognizing it.
Her philosophy, which came through repeatedly in the conversation, is this: everything is temporary. The crisis, the angry tickets, the drop in NPS — all of it is temporary. What's permanent is how you treat the people around you when things are on fire.
"How would I want somebody to respond if that was me?"
That question — not a framework, not a playbook — is what guided every decision she made in those first hours.
Once the fire was out, Christine got honest about what had gone wrong. Her diagnosis was direct:
"What happened in that moment was a complete crap show across the organization in terms of alignment, transparency, communication, and readiness."
The product team had done their job. The failure was structural — an organizational readiness problem that no amount of good code could have solved.
So Christine didn't just patch the launch. She fixed the system.
Her solution was to create a dedicated Product Operations role — a person whose entire job was to own the infrastructure that makes launches land: enablement documentation, escalation channels, communication flows, cross-functional alignment, go-to-market readiness.
"This needs to now be an actual human and a thing doing this for us and alongside us because we can't have this fail again."
The framing she used stuck with me: Product Ops acts as the peripheral vision for the product manager. The PM is focused on the product. Product Ops is watching everything around it.
"Having one responsible party owning all of this was really, really critical. That person acted as the peripheral vision for the product manager."
They never had another launch fail that way.
Most product orgs treat launch readiness as a checklist. Did marketing get the brief? Did Support get trained? Did we write the release notes?
Christine's story points to something deeper. Checklists don't create readiness. Ownership creates readiness. When no single person is accountable for organizational preparedness — when it's shared vaguely across functions — it becomes no one's job. And in the gap between "assumed to be handled" and "actually handled," launches fall apart.
The insight isn't that you need more process. It's that you need a person. Someone whose job it is to see the whole picture before the product ships — and to make sure every part of the organization can receive what the product team has built.
Eight years later, that product is still making money for the company. The PM Christine protected is still thriving. The Product Ops function Christine created is still preventing the kind of organizational chaos that made that launch so painful.
The crisis was temporary. The infrastructure built in response to it was permanent.
Christine said it best toward the end of the conversation:
"You're going to fail. There's going to be failure in your launch. Just everything's temporary. So just take a beat and just take a breath and just chill. Don't point fingers. It's okay. It's fine. Just learn from it."
That's not a dismissal of the stakes. It's the perspective of a leader who's been in the seat, absorbed the chaos, protected the people around her — and built something better on the other side.
Want to hear the full conversation? Listen to Episode 2 of the Product Leaders Lab wherever you get your podcasts: