Even I Took a Pregnancy Test This Week

…and I teach this stuff for a living.

This week, I took a pregnancy test.

Now, if you know me, you’ll know I hold physiology in the highest regard. I teach it. I honour it. I witness it in its most powerful, unfiltered form.

I know how hormones work. I understand the dance of ovulation, the subtle signals of the body, the timing, the probabilities. I could probably walk you through a conception timeline in my sleep.

And yet… I still found myself standing in the bathroom, test in hand, waiting for that little window to reveal an answer I technically already knew.

The chances of me being pregnant right now are extremely slim. Logically, rationally, factually – I knew that. But something inside me still wanted the certainty. The proof. The permission to trust what I was already feeling but couldn’t quite believe.

Because here’s the truth no one really talks about – especially those of us who teach this stuff:

Even when you trust your body deeply, there will be moments where doubt creeps in. Even when you know the science, the signs, the cycle – there will be moments where you question whether you really know what’s happening inside you.

And that doesn’t make you weak.

It makes you human.

We walk this journey with the noise of the world humming constantly in the background. A society that taught us from an early age that our bodies are unpredictable.

That symptoms need diagnosing. That sensation equals risk. That intuition isn’t real unless it’s confirmed by a test, a scan, a second opinion.

So no wonder we find ourselves questioning. No wonder we look for evidence. No wonder we feel that flicker of uncertainty – even when every logical part of us is saying, “You’re fine. You know this.”

And the thing is – I do know this. I knew I wasn’t pregnant. But I also knew that honouring my nervous system meant offering it reassurance, not shame. So I took the test. Not because I didn’t trust my body – but because I’m still learning how to live in a world that taught me not to.

Two things are true at once…

I want to say this too: I marvel at modern medicine. I’ve leaned on it, gratefully, at different points in my life. I fully appreciate – and deeply acknowledge – the privilege it is to have access to it.

But at the same time, I yearn to be more connected to myself. To know what’s happening in my body with the kind of clarity that doesn’t need to be confirmed by a stick or a scan or a statistic.

I grieve for the wisdom we’ve lost. The wisdom that lived in the bones and bellies of those who came before us – passed down, woman to woman, through observation, sensation, trust.

So many of us now are on a journey to reclaim what used to be known. To wander through a world that is not designed to support our hormones or our nervous systems – and somehow find a way to thrive not because of the systems we’re in, but in spite of them.

This work – of reconnection, of rebuilding trust, of softening back into our own bodies – it’s sacred. And it’s hard. And it’s worth it.

It’s a wild ride

If you’ve ever had those moments – where you doubted your gut, questioned your signals, or felt disconnected from your own intuition – please know: you are not broken.

This work of body trust, of coming home to ourselves, is a practice. A lifelong one. And sometimes that means taking the damn test. Not because you’ve failed, but because you’re navigating all of this in a world that makes it hard to stay connected.

You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just doing it here.

Want to build a relationship with your body that feels grounded, calm, and unshakably yours – even in moments of doubt?

This is the work we do together.

Gently. Honestly. Without the pressure to be perfectly “connected” all the time. Just real support for real humans in real bodies.