I couldn't find the right app for my daughter. So we made one.
It started at our kitchen table, not a boardroom. My daughter, Mia, was about to start tracking her period, and the two of us went looking for an app we could trust. Instead we found apps that wanted her email and a login before she'd logged a single day. Apps that asked a young teen questions about her sex life. Apps with feeds to scroll and streaks to keep, quietly sending her most personal information to a server somewhere. For a period tracker.
So we stopped looking and started listing, not what an app could do, but what it should. It should log a day in one tap. It should never ask a young teen a question that isn't its business. It should keep everything on her phone, where no company, not even us, can see it — the whole case for privacy-first period apps. And it should cost one fair price, once, with nothing ever trying to sell her anything again.
Mia and I designed that app screen by screen — the warm colors, the two flow states, the single tap to log. My husband is the developer; he built exactly what we asked for, and nothing we didn't. Every feature had to earn its place. The rest never belonged here in the first place.
We're not a startup with investors to answer to or data to sell. We're a family that built the period tracker we couldn't find for our daughter — for our own first. If it earns a place with yours, it's because it does its job, and then leaves her alone.