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    Founder story

    Dr Divpreet Sacha

    I built this platform around the things I didn't have access to when I needed them most: the right information, the right language, and the right person to call. This is the story of how I got here.

    Dr Divpreet Sacha, founder, on her wedding day
    Getting ready on the wedding day
    Divpreet in the mirror
    Pre-wedding portrait

    Getting ready. The day that brought two cultures together.

    Dr Divpreet Sacha, GP and founder of Appy and Yaar

    The founder

    Dr Divpreet SachaMBChB · MRCGP · DipOccMed

    I am Punjabi. My mother is a pharmacist. I trained as a doctor. I say that not as credentials but as context, because it matters that despite all of this, the conditions shaping my reproductive health went unnamed in our family for most of my life. The facial hair and the heavy periods every three weeks were just what the women in our family had. That was what my mum had. That was "normal".

    I had been on the contraceptive pill since I was fourteen. Not for contraception, for the pain and the heavy periods that no one had a name for yet. The pill worked, so we didn't look any deeper. I stayed on it happily until I was ready for a family.

    When I tried to conceive, my periods became irregular after a few months. I'm a doctor, so I could get the tests done quickly. PMOS (formerly PCOS) was confirmed on ultrasound. They thought I had a bicornuate uterus. It turned out to be stage 3 silent endometriosis, with polyps and scar tissue on my uterus. My BMI was 22.5. "Normal" on any chart, Western or South Asian. And yet I had the full metabolic picture. Because BMI alone misses what our bodies carry. South Asians hold visceral and ectopic fat at lower BMIs than other populations. "Normal weight" doesn't mean metabolically healthy. Not for us.

    I had one NHS IVF cycle. I overstimulated, which gave us six embryos: one transferred, five frozen. The negative pregnancy test came on my twenty-ninth birthday.

    Between the NHS cycle and the private one, I read everything I could. Ethnicity-specific BMI thresholds. Vitamin D reading "normal" on paper but still insufficient for fertility. The research on South Asian bodies is thin, and what exists rarely reaches the clinic or gets tailored for us. The private frozen cycle worked. Six months after my first child, I conceived my second naturally.

    Afterwards I spoke to my mum. As we went through her own history, it became clear she had probably had PMOS (formerly PCOS) her whole adult life. She was only diagnosed at 70, because she believed PMOS (formerly PCOS) meant visible cysts on an ultrasound. The clinical symptoms were there the whole time. Missed for a generation.

    Divpreet and her mother at her wedding, laughing together
    With my mum on my wedding day.
    Divpreet with her Sikh parents and brother at her wedding
    The family I grew up in.
    Mum dancing at pande-jago
    Pre-wedding procession

    Pande-jago: the night before the wedding. The women in our family dancing.

    Divpreet's mum
    My mum.

    Why this exists

    The research exists. It just hadn't reached us.

    South Asian women in the UK face a 23-percentage-point satisfaction gap in fertility care. Pakistani women have 32% lower adjusted odds of a live birth per IVF cycle than White patients. Bangladeshi women, 47% lower. These are not biology gaps. They are information gaps, cultural silence gaps, and gaps where "normal BMI" was never calibrated for us.

    Appy and Yaar are a place to learn, to prepare, to be heard, and to walk into your appointment ready. With our biology, our community, and our culture at the centre. Not as an afterthought.

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