Eight long-form stories, shared with consent.

I'd been "trying" for fourteen months and I was completely fried. I'd done every single thing the internet told me to do — I had four supplements running, an Oura ring, a Tempdrop, two apps, a fancy ovulation kit. I was tracking forty things a day and pregnant in zero of them.

Hannah was the first person who didn't tell me to optimize anything. She told me to eat warm breakfast and stop reading subreddits at midnight. She had me chart on paper. Just paper. No app for three months. I thought it was so old-fashioned and I rolled my eyes about it for the first two weeks.

We worked on sleep. We worked on food. She put me on B6 and magnesium and a brief vitex run. By cycle six my luteal phase was twelve days for the first time in my adult life. By cycle nine, two pink lines.

What I tell my friends: you don't need more inputs. You need someone who can actually look at what your body is already telling you.

My husband and I have been at this for almost three years. Two miscarriages. One full IVF cycle that didn't take. By the time I found Hannah I was so tired of being a "case." I wanted to be a person again.

Walk-with-Me was the first space in years that wasn't trying to fix me. Hannah let me grieve, fully, before we did anything else. She held the loss with me like it was a real loss, not a "next-month-will-be-different" loss.

We're still trying. I'm not pregnant. I'm also not the person I was a year ago. I sleep. I cook again. My husband and I are friends again. Whatever happens with the baby part, this work was a gift.

I tell women considering Hannah: she will not promise you a baby. She will promise you that you'll feel like yourself.

I came to Hannah after eight months of trying. We had no medical reason to be worried yet, but I knew something was off — my cycles had gone weird after stopping the pill and I couldn't shake the anxiety.

What I didn't expect was how much my marriage would shift. My husband came to four of the sessions. We finally had language for what we were each going through. He didn't realize how much weight I'd been carrying alone — not just the trying, but the fact that my body had been doing all this complicated stuff every month and he had no idea any of it was happening.

Twins. We were not expecting that. The pregnancy was hard but I had three months of nervous-system work in the bank by the time I got pregnant, and I think that's part of why my body could hold them.

Foundations was a tenth of what we'd budgeted to spend on fertility help. Best money we ever spent.

I came to Hannah at 39 after we'd done two rounds of IVF and decided we were done. I needed someone to help me grieve — not someone to suggest one more thing to try. She was clear about that from the first call.

What we did over six months was slow and unglamorous. We worked on my cycle even though we weren't trying anymore. We worked on my anger at my body. We worked on what I actually wanted from the next decade if it didn't include biological children.

Six months turned into a year. We started the adoption process in month nine. I stayed in touch with Hannah occasionally. Last September, our daughter came home. She is two years old and she has my husband's exact same eyebrow situation.

If you're at the end of trying, or thinking about being at the end, she is the person.

I'm not trying yet. I'd just stopped birth control after eleven years and I had no idea what my body was actually doing. The four-hour Saturday workshop was the perfect on-ramp.

I expected charting to feel clinical. It feels like the opposite — like getting to know a part of myself I'd been ignoring. Three cycles in I can predict my period to the day. I know when I'm fertile. I know when my luteal-phase mood crash is coming and I plan around it now.

I'll come back for Foundations in a year or two when we're ready to try. Until then, paper charts and Sunday letters.

I have PCOS. My cycles were thirty-eight to seventy days for years. Three doctors had told me I'd "probably need help." I went into Foundations expecting to learn how to chart and not much more.

Hannah did not treat me like a PCOS patient. She treated me like a body. We worked on glycemic stability — how I ate breakfast, when I ate breakfast, what walking after dinner did. I dropped two coffees a day. We added inositol and a brief berberine run with my naturopath's blessing.

I conceived in cycle five. I'm now in my second trimester. My naturopath is in agreement that food + sleep changes did most of the work.

I'm one of the rare ones. We tried for almost five years. Four miscarriages. I'd given up. I came to Hannah for grief work, not for fertility. I told her in the clarity call I was done.

What we did over the next year was something I can only describe as letting go without giving up. She didn't push. We worked slowly. I stopped trying. I started cooking again. I gardened. I stopped charting halfway through and Hannah didn't make me feel bad about it.

I would not have called this a "result" of the work — I'd call it something that became possible inside the work. Different thing.

I came to Hannah for cycle pain. Not for fertility — though I knew kids were eventually on the horizon. My periods were knocking me out for two days a month and I was tired of pretending it was fine.

Hannah did not say "endometriosis" — she's clear that's not her diagnosis to make. But she helped me describe my pain accurately enough to bring to my GP, who then referred me onward and yes, eventually, that's what it was.

The food and sleep changes also brought my pain from a 9 to a 4 within three cycles, while I waited months for the specialist appointment. I'm in a much better place now to consider trying when we're ready.