Photography by Sophie Ebrard

I have yet to meet a guy who longs to have a baby like some women do.

Sure, they've thought it might be cool to be a dad – one day – but have they ever felt that empty ache inside, felt like a total asshole for giving the pregnant stranger on the tube a cold look, had their heart pound with anxiety when a friend announces their pregnancy, or ever masked their tears for sweat in a cycle class because they just can't believe they are not a dad yet? I’m thinking no. So it's inevitable that the disparity between my emotions about motherhood and my boyfriend's about being a dad can be wildly misaligned. They can become a wedge between us at times. And then he said something one day that made it all click, I saw things from his perspective.

He said, most guys fall into fatherhood by having sex, and their partner coming out of the bathroom with a positive pregnancy test. They realise they're going to have a baby. And all that scary shit that comes with it just happens, they get on with it.

“Are you absolutely ready to be a dad?”

But with IVF, he said, it's like you went into the bathroom to pee on a stick and I've been waiting for the result for years. It opens up so many questions, it gives way to doubt and over thinking. It's like being asked repeatedly "Are you sure you want a baby? Are you absolutely ready to be a dad? Do you 100% want the responsibility of looking after a small, helpless human appendage?"

All that, without the sex to make said baby.

After every failed round of IVF, all I'd want to do is pick myself up, and throw myself into the next round. To fast track the disappointment, put a plaster over the grief, and try again. Whereas my boyfriend would want to take time out to pause, to let the dust settle and build himself up before he could even talk about going again. Every round depletes you and while I can now see it's healthy to stop thinking about procreation for a beat, it's not so simple when every grain of your being just wants to sprint to motherhood. Whatever it takes.

I didn't want to hang back in the slow lane. I was always ready to move forward so felt powerless that I couldn't control the speed. We were functioning in different gears. It frustrated me that he didn't want this as much as me. Thrown that he could be so tenacious about random things like researching the best suitcase, but not about something as important as having a child.

“It frustrated me that he didn't want this as much as me”

Then I realised that he'd never fully understand what it's like to feel the basic need as a woman to use your womb. To know that your eggs are dwindling and mortified that you're considered a geriatric, reproductively speaking. It sucks, but guys don't have that same urgency, they don't feel the absence of something that should be growing inside of you. They're not petrified of missing the last train, in fertility terms. They can catch a train whenever they want.

But after our five failed rounds of IVF, I learned when to step on the gas and when to hold back and allow some time for healing. If not for me, for him. And in turn for our relationship. I learned that replacing fertility clinic appointments with holidays, and buying yet another house plant to nurture, is at times what's most needed. And while the months pass by without getting pregnant, I'm confident that we'll catch that train together and make a baby, one day.