Mike stormed back from the pharmacy, frustration etched across his face. The cashier had asked, “Is this a good thing?” in the most cheerful tone, clearly oblivious to the gravity of the situation. I had sent him out to grab “a bunch of pregnancy tests” after putting the kids to sleep, hoping against hope that they would all show negative results. Yet deep down, I knew I’d test every time I used the bathroom until my period finally showed up. Even without having looked for clinics or done a single Google search, I was already mentally preparing to schedule an abortion if I saw a positive sign.
In our years together, we’d navigated two pregnancies and welcomed three children, the youngest being just four. While we would undoubtedly find room in our hearts for another baby, the physical toll on me was simply too daunting. I knew firsthand what a pregnancy would entail: bed rest, anemia, debilitating pain, a high chance of a pre-term C-section, and the looming possibility of postpartum depression. But the most frightening of all was the risk of cancer.
People often know the common pregnancy rules: avoid raw fish, skip deli meats, steer clear of soft cheeses, and don’t change cat litter. What they don’t realize is why those rules exist. A pregnant body is a body that’s been commandeered. It’s not just occupied; it’s fundamentally changed to support the development of another life. Hormones alter the pregnant brain, bones shift, the lymphatic system adapts, and the immune system is suppressed to avoid rejecting the fetus.
That immune suppression comes with risks. A healthy body can fend off conditions like toxoplasmosis, often found in cat feces, but a pregnant body might not. While the immune system typically prevents abnormal cell growth, pregnancy can increase the risk of several cancers, including breast cancer and melanoma, which is my personal concern. Statistically, about one in a thousand women may face these cancer risks during pregnancy. To put that into perspective, 1 in 700 babies is born with Down syndrome, while spina bifida affects about 1 in 2,000. So while cancer as a complication is less common than conditions like preeclampsia or gestational diabetes, “rare” still feels all too close for comfort.
During my last pregnancy, I had six moles removed that were cancerous or precancerous, along with several polyps from my colon. It terrified me to think that if I were pregnant, melanoma could be lurking in places I couldn’t see. My family has been touched by cancer, and we fight hard against risks that could lead to it. We avoid asbestos and secondhand smoke, advocate against toxic chemicals, and walk for cancer research. Yet, all of that would mean nothing if my pregnancy test turned blue.
Mike and I shared a moment of silence, grappling with the weight of the situation. He probably wished we had considered a tubal ligation during my last C-section. I recalled a friend’s wife who succumbed to breast cancer just months after giving birth. She had battled cancer before, but it returned during her pregnancy, hidden until it was too late. She left behind a grieving husband and a newborn who would never know her love.
Birth control is never foolproof. Mike had a vasectomy, but complications during the procedure increased the chances of reattachment. I couldn’t take hormonal birth control due to health issues and had a copper allergy to boot. Even with the pill or an IUD, pregnancies can still occur. The likelihood was low—but not zero, especially since my period was two weeks late. I felt achy and fatigued, symptoms that could easily be mistaken for pregnancy or simply the stress of juggling two jobs and three kids during a hectic school year.
Mike dropped the bag of pregnancy tests on the coffee table, grumbling about the cashier’s comment. I took his hand, feeling the weight of our situation. We could probably manage another child if I didn’t have to take time off work for bed rest or if we could afford the additional childcare costs during a high-risk pregnancy.
We’d definitely cherish another child, but at what cost? How long would it be before the aggressive cancer that could thrive in my pregnant body would take me away from my family? My children need me—specifically me. I am their anchor, their source of love and security. Losing that would leave them with a void that could never be filled.
In truth, a lot of women like me face the same dilemma. Many moms in their 30s grapple with these tough choices, weighing the risks of another pregnancy against the needs of their existing children. Unfortunately, healthcare provisions centered on “the health of the mother” often overlook situations like mine, where a pregnancy may not pose an immediate threat to life but can still jeopardize it.
I’ve peed on countless pregnancy tests, sharing the same fears as many women out there. The reality is that while we love our kids so deeply, the thought of having to terminate a pregnancy—something that could bring us joy—pales in comparison to the horror of leaving our children behind because of a failed birth control method or sheer bad luck. Being a good mother doesn’t mean sacrificing my life for another child.
Mike settled beside me on the couch and pulled out a box of cookies, and we shared a moment of quiet together amidst the uncertainty. Even if my health were not at risk, even if we could guarantee a healthy baby, it still might not be the best decision for our family. What if another child disrupted our delicate balance? What if their needs were so great that I couldn’t adequately care for all my kids? What if I faced postpartum depression and couldn’t love another child? The “what ifs” loomed large in my mind.
Mike wrapped his arm around me, his touch gentle as if my body was no longer just mine. I felt just as uncertain as any teenager facing the unknown, even though I was a grown woman well aware of my choices. This was my body, my decision, my burden.
Being a mother is never easy, and it’s harder than I ever imagined.
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Summary: In this candid reflection, Jamie Collins shares her thoughts on the possibility of another pregnancy and the complex emotions surrounding it. With health risks, family responsibilities, and the well-being of her children at the forefront, she weighs her choices and the implications of motherhood.
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