I Love Science

I’m not too sure when I fell in love with it, possibly somewhere in year 9 (age 13/14). At least I can remember my project book that I made all about the female reproductive system and it seems that since then, I had a fascination.

Some people consider the biological sciences to be the easier ones or far less interesting than the likes of chemistry or physics. I find it odd when people don’t love biology. But not all of that stupid plant rubbish. Even animal biology is only okay when it’s in a comparative way to humans (oh, the second year uni topic about chicken eggs and diving mammals!). I’m not sure why I never studied simple plain human physiology rather than the sister subject Biomedical Science. It would only really have meant a different third year at uni and I could have lost all of those pesky biochemistry modules.

Unfortunately, I was still convinced that I enjoyed biochemistry and even chemistry. But, no, my love of science is purely for the human physiology.

Why?

As I said, it was in year 9 when I did a project on the human female reproductive system and for some reason it all stuck with me. It’s why I now find it odd when I read others’ blogs with regards to trying to conceive, or when doctors explain everything to me in the simplest of terms. I simply think: how can someone not know their cycle?

After a few months of trying and getting nowhere, I didn’t jump online to learn how to time things, how to recognise the signs or learn about my body in greater detail. I was lucky to already know that information and simply had to pull it out of my mind. I think it’s why I get so frustrated and sink when day one comes back around. There is literally no more that I can do.

At the first appointment with the doctor, where he went over the procedures I can have to see if there’s anything wrong, his explanations of my body where met with nods from me, as I thought “I know this”. My husband, on the other hand, found it amazing and learnt what I’d been trying to tell him for months.

Even so, despite me understanding the hormones and recognising the dips and peaks, the withdrawal and the elation, I had never ever monitored my daily temperature. The thing I love about the female reproductive system is that, you can feel science happening. When you have that completely weepy, crash day, well that’s where your hormone levels have vanished with a click of the fingers and you’re almost in withdrawal from it. It’s the same with respiration or the circulatory system, you can feel the science. You can become your own test subject.

Just run a mile and your heart’s beating faster? That’s science.

Just recorded a drop in your basal temperature? That’s science.

This month, I started recording my morning temperatures. I haven’t been super regular about it, so I know I can’t depend on the results. As with any science experiment, the results need reproducing and then analysing. So when my temperature dropped the other day, near to the end of my cycle, I knew that I was going to have a period. Less than 24 hours later and my hypothesis was correct.

Did I breakdown? Did I feel like a failure?

No, I was prepared for it. When I recorded the drop, I knew there was a chance that it wasn’t reliable. I’d been awake on and off, my husband had already got up with a stomach bug (which I still seem to have avoided!), so there were enough variables that the reading wasn’t taken in the same circumstances as the others. However, I didn’t pin all my hopes on those few variables, on that slim chance. And with no other signs of either possibility, I remained calm.

If the next month provides good data then I can start depending on science, not hope to give me answers. It won’t affect my ability to conceive (I’ve always known where day 14 is), but it might help my ability to cope.

The only small problem is, I’ve always used science to explain my complete and utter breakdown once a month – of course I can’t control these tears, dear, it’s the hormones! Science says that my hormones have dropped (otherwise why the temperature drop?) and yet there is no breakdown. Perhaps it was never the hormones. Maybe, all along, it was my dependence on hope and putting my faith into it. Maybe, all along, it was my not knowing. Normally, I would not know it was day one until it hit me in the face. This time I was prepared.

And who can argue with science?

~ Persephone M

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