What I Wish I Knew Before Trying to Conceive

A personal story about learning to trust my body, and what I’d do differently if I had to start over.

When we decided to start trying for our first baby, I was excited. I felt strong, healthy, and honestly...a little smug.

I worked out regularly. I ate cleaner than most people I knew. I had been into health and wellness for years. So of course I thought, this should be easy.

My sister had gotten pregnant with ease—twice. Why would my experience be any different?

But it was.

The truth is, I was taking advice from people who had no real understanding of fertility or female physiology. I was letting an app (with nothing but my cycle length to go off of) tell me when I was fertile. And I didn’t question it—until I had to.

The first signs something was off

I had read somewhere that it could take up to a year to get pregnant after stopping birth control. But I brushed it off. I figured I’d be the exception, not the rule.

But nine months in, after two chemical pregnancies and a lot of unhelpful Googling, my confidence was shaken.

I remember calling my mom after the first loss, totally confused and scared. I had gotten a positive test, and now I was bleeding. Was it a period? A miscarriage? Something else entirely? I was terrified to even bother my doctor with the question.

Looking back, it makes me so sad. That I felt I needed to justify being curious about my own body. That I was more afraid of being dismissed than of what might be wrong.

Each loss hit hard. I became resentful of people who got pregnant easily. I stopped trusting my body. And every time I searched for answers online, it only made things worse: “Could be implantation bleeding… or cervical cancer.” Cool. Thanks, Google.

The first real shift

Eventually, I stumbled on some information about basal body temperature and ovulation tracking. It was a lightbulb moment. Maybe this did take more planning—and more intention—than I thought.

I bought an Ava bracelet (early in its product life), and I genuinely think that little bit of extra awareness helped us finally conceive.

But even though we made it to pregnancy, that’s not where the hard part ended.

Postpartum was the wake-up call I didn’t know I needed

I was one of the first of my close friends to have a baby. And while I was grateful, I felt totally alone.

My postpartum experience was anything but glowing. I was depleted, disconnected, and deeply exhausted. I wanted so badly to bond with my baby, but it wasn’t clicking. And I felt guilty that I couldn’t wait to go back to work—because at least there, I felt a little more like myself.

It took about a year for me to realize: what I was going through wasn’t “just motherhood.” It wasn’t normal. And I didn’t have to just push through.

At 6 weeks postpartum, when the screen for PPD, this wasn’t my reality. But flashforward one year later, I needed help.

I started antidepressants to stabilize my moods. And once I had a little more clarity, I started digging deeper.

What healing really looked like

I ran an organic acids test and a stool test—both revealed the kind of gut dysfunction that no one had mentioned could affect my fertility or hormones.

I had parasites. H. pylori. Fungal and bacterial overgrowth. Basically, my gut was a mess. And that stress was impacting every other system in my body.

It took months of focused work—clearing the pathogens, restoring nutrients, and slowing way down. I swapped intense workouts for movement that supported healing. I focused on rest, nourishment, and stress reduction.

And eventually... my body came back online.

I had energy. My brain worked. I didn’t need to map out bathroom locations before I left the house. My quality of life changed dramatically.

What I’d tell the “me” back then

I wish someone had told me:

  • To listen to my body before it started screaming.

  • That just because something is common doesn’t mean it’s normal.

  • That you don’t need to wait until you're desperate to seek deeper support.

  • That your body isn’t betraying you—it’s asking for help.

I also wish I had known what testing was available. That you can get data that makes things clearer. That food freedom and hormonal clarity aren’t just for the lucky few.

These days…

I work with women through all of life’s hormonal transitions—coming off birth control, trying to conceive, postpartum recovery, perimenopause.

And while my toolkit is science-backed and grounded in data, my approach is simple:
✨ Teach women to understand the language of their body
✨ Make health feel more doable—not more overwhelming
✨ Offer realistic, sustainable support—because women already carry enough

My goal is to shorten the learning curve for others. To be the guide I wish I’d had when I felt like no one had answers.

If you’re navigating any of this—whether it’s fertility frustration, confusing symptoms, or just that feeling of “I know something’s off, but I don’t know what…”—you’re not alone.

Your symptoms have a story. I’m here to help you read it.

If you’re looking for support in your fertility journey now (or just want to get ahead of it), we have a resource for you. Trying Smarter: Your preconception game plan is available now on our site. Or schedule a free consult today to learn more about working with us.

Thanks for being here.
— Lauren

Previous
Previous

Not Another Post About Sleep (Except… Maybe It Is)

Next
Next

Why Cycle Tracking Is the Most Underrated Fertility (and Health) Tool—And How to Start Today