Managing My Anxiety and Stress While Trying to Conceive

As my husband and I approach our fifth month trying to conceive our second child, I've been feeling increasingly anxious. Yes, yes — I know. Getting pregnant takes time, and most couples don’t seal the deal — so to speak — immediately.

In all honesty, this whole “trying” thing is somewhat new because we weren’t trying with our first. We were having fun, and our daughter just came — a pleasant and welcome surprise. 

So when we decided to try for a second child, I armed myself with statistics in an effort to manage my expectations. I researched ovulation and fertilization and how long it takes to conceive, and I understood that I should be patient. After all, although healthy couples who are actively trying to get pregnant have about a 25 to 30 percent chance of conceiving each month, it's normal for the process to take up to a year.

But while I understood the need for patience, my anxiety did not, especially as we saw negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test. The thought of enduring yet another month of uncertainty and the dreaded "two-week wait" between ovulation and testing — and potentially yet another negative result — made my skin crawl and my heart ache. And I say this as someone who started trying to conceive relatively recently; for women who have been trying for years, I imagine the wait would be suffocating.

A rollercoaster of emotions

In truth, even though I had done my research and understood that conception doesn't always happen right away, part of me assumed I would easily get pregnant this time around, too. When that didn't happen, my anxiety spiked, and I felt myself starting to become obsessive.

I track my ovulation with an ovulation predictor kit, and while I was initially testing once a day, three or four days a month, I began testing more and more often, sometimes several times a day for half the month. And don’t get me started on the pregnancy tests. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I start testing about eight days before the first day of my anticipated period — far too early for the tests to even be accurate. I occasionally find myself holding up the stick in different rooms of my house, hoping to see a faint second line in better light.

The entire process is a rollercoaster of emotions: hope, anxiety, dread. I feel happy and hopeful as I approach my anticipated ovulation week, but the excitement is short-lived. My stress levels inevitably skyrocket as I start testing for ovulation, and anxious thoughts creep in. What if my ovulation predictor kit is wrong? What if we had sex on a less-fertile day? What if I didn't ovulate at all that month?

Predictably, I'm back in great spirits once I ovulate, only to return to a spiral of anxiety and stress during the two-week wait. During those two weeks — which feel like two years — I find myself drowning in doubt, worry and racing thoughts. I have frequent migraines and struggle to focus on work.

Fertility challenges can be incredibly stressful

We haven't yet been TTC long enough to consult a fertility specialist (which is recommended after six months for moms 35 and up, or after a year for those under 35).

But each month, I get more and more concerned about secondary infertility, which accounts for about 50 percent of all infertility cases. I prepare myself with more stats: that nearly 7 million women experience difficulty trying to conceive in the U.S. every year, which translates to about 1 in 8 couples. And although most infertility cases can be addressed with medical treatment, fertility challenges can contribute to emotional fatigue, something I've already experienced. My obsessive testing comes with a price: significant stress.

The effort to make a baby seems like it should be a joyous time. And for many parents-to-be, it is. But researchers have found that individuals and couples trying to concieve — and struggling — can experience a range of upsetting emotions, including anger, depression, anxiety, diminished self-esteem, relational conflict and even sexual dysfunction.

Then there's the well-meaning family member who keeps asking when you’re going to have a baby or give your current child another sibling. Research shows, too, that the pressure to get pregnant can cause couples struggling with infertility to feel isolated and undervalued in their communities. And when efforts to conceive don't go as planned, women or the person who intends to carry the child often report higher levels of distress than their partners. 

Reclaiming my TTC journey

As the months went on, I found myself approaching intimacy with my husband almost like a business transaction. The minute I would get the faintest sign of ovulation, I entered CEO mode, scheduling “board meetings.”

Ironically, while lying in bed recently, my husband suggested we have fun again. At first, I scoffed at his suggestion. But the next day, I gave his idea more thought. Indeed, making a baby should be fun, right? 

I decided to toss out a few things that weren't working for me — and contributing to my anxiety — and replace them with healthier strategies to reduce stress. I told myself I could only use ovulation kits on the week that I was scheduled to ovulate, and then only test once per day. I gave myself limits on pregnancy tests: I could take one test after the first day of a missed period, instead of many days before. And I promised myself I'd quit researching the same topics and statistics I'd already read ad nauseum.

These strategies have been helping. So, too, have my efforts to spend my free time on passions that have nothing to do with getting pregnant — reading a good book, watching Netflix, going on a run and most importantly, focusing on gratitude for all the fantastic people who are already in my life.

It's not easy, but I'm trying my best to accept that I only have so much control over when I will conceive. I continue to believe that everything will work out just as it should.