The Science Baby

It’s 6am. I look down at the blood on the tissue, and feel a rush of conflicting emotions. Sadness, relief, resignation, determination. It’s the same flood of thoughts and feelings that I’ve experienced a hundred times over the last ten years, but this time somehow more intense. This time the stakes seem so much higher. As I pour away the cup full of pee – saved for a pregnancy test no longer needed – I hear my 20-month old son laughing downstairs and am catapulted back to the present. Briefly staggered by the mental vertigo of everything we’ve been through on this journey, I’m left full of gratitude for the beautiful, scientific marvel that is my little family, and feeling more than a little foolish for the mental paroxysms that I’ve put myself through, yet again.

Contraceptives would put an end to all these emotional acrobatics, of course, effectively erasing all possibility of me getting pregnant and having to truly face the question of whether we want, can have, can support, another one. But taking contraceptives to prevent a pregnancy that is vanishingly unlikely to happen in the first place seems, quite frankly, ridiculous. It was the reason we declined them straight after Science Baby was born, and as far as we know nothing has changed (indeed, we’re both older, more tired, hardly on track to improve fertility!). But at 6am this morning, I’ve decided to do the illogical thing and, at nearly 40 years old, get myself back to the sexual health clinic and manipulate my hormones once again.

The thing they don’t tell you about trying to conceive…

…is that it seriously messes with your head.

Science baby’s dad and I tried, on and off, for about 8 years before we eventually got help through IVF. That adds up to 100 months of planning, calculating, peeing on sticks, strategically timed sex, agonising two week waits, pregnancy tests, and mental menstruation games. I’ll tell you one thing for free – it does nothing for romance!

It’s easy to imagine that you’re going to be chill about it. I’m sure some hopeful parents are! But I’m not that kind of person, and I think the longer something like this goes on, the less chill you’re likely to be about it. Okay, so you’ve done all that was required in the middle of your cycle, and now you’re left with nothing but your thoughts for the next two weeks. Try as I might to not think about it, the closer I got to my period I’d start running the sums in my head:

This is how many days post-ovulation?

What are the chances of my period starting early?

Am I less bloated than usual? It feels like I am. Is that a good or a bad thing?

My boobs hurt a lot. Do they normally hurt this much? Is that a sign of pregnancy? Maybe they hurt more because it’s twins!

If I’m pregnant this month, what will that make the due date? How will it feel to have a summer/winter baby? When should I tell people? How will I handle not drinking over Christmas/my birthday?

Should I take a pregnancy test yet? Will it show anything? If it shows nothing it might just be too soon. But if I am pregnant, it could put me out of my misery sooner rather than later.

Obviously, the most sensible thing to do is to just wait for my period to start or not, but after two weeks of low-key hysteria, there’s not much sense left in my frazzled brain. But pregnancy tests are expensive, and even with those bulk packs of simple HCG strips, after so many tries I need to be conscious of my supplies.

But approaching the day my period is due, I step into a new phase of mental brinksmanship.

I study the instructions on the pregnancy test packets, google the likelihood of getting a positive or a false negative, weigh the advantages and disadvantages of testing in my head. I’m a pro at it after all these years, and know that I need to use my first morning pee, know that I need to collect my pee in a cup rather than battle with a thin wiggly stick in the toilet bowl at 6am. I know how long will be enough to rule out a positive. I trust my ‘line eyes’ not to deceive me. For some reason I’m super secretive about it. Despite my loving husband being by my side through all of this, I am somehow ashamed, I don’t want him to see how much this is occupying my mind.

Because it is. It’s occupying every spare thought.

And those months when my period is late?! Well, all other thoughts get pushed to the side. Even a negative test, morning, noon or night cannot dull the mental and emotional gymnastics. Not until the inevitable arrival of my period (in its own sweet time), is the habitual short circuiting of my brain finally cut off.

It’s a huge disappointment of course, to find out that once again we’ve been unsuccessful. But confusingly it’s also tinged with relief, that those two weeks of my life are over and I can go back to thinking about something else. It’s short-lived though… a couple of weeks later and the whole cycle begins again. Try as I might to be chill, I’ve spent four years of my life in the two week wait, and it’s left its mark on me, indelibly.

But things are different now

Thanks to the wonder of medical science, we got our magical Science Baby by IVF in 2023. That’s a story for another time, but me and science dad were, and continue to be, in awe, in love, and amazed at every little thing he does. We are both only children and enjoyed the experience, so we only ever really wanted one child. When getting him proved to be such a mammoth task, it only reinforced that opinion. We were over the moon with our bundle of joy, and despite the fact that I actually quite enjoyed my pregnancy and the newborn stage, we agreed that one Science Baby was all we needed to make our family complete.

And yet, as I mentioned above, I chose not to go back on any contraceptives because, well, there really didn’t seem to be any need. I should say that getting pregnant was not impossible for us, just very very very unlikely. We figured, oh so very pragmatically, that if (the biggest if) anything should happen, then we would take it as a sign from the universe.

For one reason or another, our sex life hasn’t exactly been thriving since Science Baby’s arrival, making the already infinitesimal possibility even smaller. But when the stars do align, regardless of how else I’m feeling, in the weeks leading up to my next period I find myself shunted back down those old neural pathways, and into the well-trodden anxiety of the two week wait. It’s not happened very often, but hot damn when it happens it takes the rug out from under me.

I’m not trying to conceive. I’m not actively trying not to conceive. I know, from eight years of hard-earned experience that I probably haven’t conceived. So why am I lying awake calculating due dates? Why am I seeking out my old pee-cup? Why am I already worrying how Science Baby will take to a new sibling?!

This time it was particularly bad. My cycle tracker said my period should start on Wednesday, but Wednesday came and went with nothing in sight. So too Thursday. I only have two expensive pregnancy tests in the cupboard so I restrained myself, telling myself that I’d take a test with Friday morning’s pee, if Aunt Flo still hadn’t made an appearance. But Thursday night, as I held Science Baby to sleep I was in a quiet frenzy. What on earth would we do if I was pregnant? I started piling up the pros and cons in my mind.

On the one hand, this could be the wondrous sign from the stars that we’d hoped for. A miracle natural conception, after all we’d been through before. Maybe it was a girl, fulfilling that tiny unspoken corner of longing that I’m ashamed to admit still lingers. Science Baby could have all of the apparently wonderful benefits of siblings that me and his dad know nothing of. I’d get to enjoy pregnancy and newborn times again, this time mindfully, knowing how fleeting it is and how precious those times are. I could learn so much more and bring Science Baby‘s audience first hand information on the stages I missed the first time around.

But on the other hand, the doubts and worries already swirled. What if the pregnancy had complications? What if the baby had something wrong with it – did we have the strength and resilience to cope? We’d have to get a NIPT test straight away, I thought. Would I have an elective C section this time, or try for a natural birth? Would I try and breastfeed again? Every baby is different, so what if the newborn stages weren’t as blissful as with science baby? How on earth would I cope with a baby and a 2 year old? What if science baby didn’t take well to his new sibling. Science dad and I have zero experience with sibling relationships, so how would we navigate that? Would our relationship survive, when it’s been pushed to the limits with only one? How could we afford to have two kids? I’d planned to ramp up my freelance work when Science Baby went to school, but with another in the mix it delays that, and the money it would bring, by another two years. We can barely afford to send one kid to nursery and our school of choice, how on earth would we afford two? I’d have to change my car. We’d have to move house.

And before I know it, it’s 2am and I’m on Rightmove, looking for bigger houses for three people and an embryo I’m not even sure exists yet. I think it’s fair to say I’ve completely lost the plot.

In that moment, the practical cons of a second child seem to vastly outweigh the pros. But to seek a termination of what is essentially a miracle conception for us seems callous insanity. I’m wracked with paroxysms of moral indecision. Despite the softly breathing toddler in my arms, my Post-‘Trying To Concieve’ Stress has me in silent, secret, body-wrenching tears.

So at 6am, after a few hours of fitful sleep, I fill my pee cup, set it aside, and then wipe. There at last is the blood, my period, two days late. I didn’t conceive, I’m not pregnant, and all of that worrying, stress and anxiety was for nothing. I feel ashamed, and indescribably stupid for my hysteria. Even while I was doing the worrying I knew it was ridiculous. But I realise now that, should the stars align again this month, then I’ll do it all again, because I’m stuck in this rut. While any possibility of conception exists, then the black hole of the two week wait will suck me in, and eventually I worry it’ll destroy me.

So I have two choices. Either no more sex at all, or contraception in my 40s. I do still quite like my husband, so I guess I’m going back on the hormones.

I still can’t win with my mind though. There’s a part of me that’s sad to be drawing such a final line under our procreation days; a part of me that still wants to let the universe roll its dice. But if I’m going to be the kind of mother that Science Baby needs, I need to prioritise my mental health.

Maybe I should get some therapy. Maybe nobody will read this, but writing it has helped a bit.