My period was 2 months late, but I wasn't pregnant. Turns out it's probably perimenopause.

• Not long after my husband and I got married, I realized my period was almost two months late.
• With four kids already between us and me being in my early 40s, I had mixed feelings.

I checked my period app: two months late. "Are you prepared for baby number five?" I asked my husband. His eyes widened and I could tell both of us were thinking the same thought: "Oh no, please no."

We'd always been careful, but had we been careful enough? I scanned my memory for nights we might have slipped up. Nothing came to mind, but I knew too well that surprise babies happen. Several of my friends and family members have had babies in their late 40s. At 43 and newly married for the second time, it wasn't impossible.

After a long pause, he answered: "I mean, no." He drops his eyes to my stomach. "But if you were, it would be OK. I guess."

"I think it's just hormones," I offered. But in my head, I felt less sure about the cause of my missed period. My stomach felt firmer and a little rounder. I could've been pregnant. Maybe?

Contemplating another pregnancy in my 40s

Even as I said the words, I wondered how I really felt. In my rational mind, I didn't want more kids; four between us is more than plenty.

Still, I couldn't seem to shake that deeper craving to have another baby. We're a blended family with two birth kids each and I often wondered what it would be like having a baby with him.

An "ours" baby — that's what they call them. He's a great dad, and I've always really loved the baby stage, even though my pregnancies were complicated and stressful. My girls are both teenagers now and there's a tiny part of me that misses those sweet, rhythmical baby years of cuddling, feeding, and soothing them to sleep.

Until I hit 40, my periods were so easy to track. Now, at 43, they turn up at random times — or not at all. I've heard menopause usually starts around age 50, so I'm way too young for that, right? I've avoided even thinking about it. Menopause sounds scary, but so does a geriatric pregnancy. I wasn't sure which I'm in for, or which I was hoping for at that point.

Getting a test to find out my fate

I headed for the supermarket and pulled three pregnancy tests off the shelf, tucking them under my bar of peanut-butter chocolate and packet of Pringles. My basket looked like a pregnant person's basket. "I might as well announce it over the loudspeaker," I thought as I watched the cashier scan my items.

As soon as I got home, I used all three, one after the other — and they were all negative. But I wondered if, maybe, it's too early to tell. After all, when I was pregnant with both of my daughters, I knew I was pregnant before the tests confirmed it. I really needed to make sure. I booked a nurse's appointment and explained my situation.

"It could be perimenopause," she said when I arrived. "The stage before menopause. You're a little young, but within the age range."

"I hope so," I replied, part of me meaning it, another part completely lying. I wrapped my hand around the urine sample jar and headed for the toilets.

"You really don't want more babies," I repeated again and again in my head as I waited for the nurse to run the test. With my history of premature births, cervical complications, and my age, it wouldn't be safe. Then, I placed my hand on my stomach. I thought, "And yet…"

A few minutes passed. "Not pregnant!" the nurse told me with a look of relief. I guess the potential of some pregnancies can cause medical staff to worry, too.

So, perimenopause, then. I headed home and announced the news to my equally relieved husband. "It would've been nice," he said. He held my shoulders, and his eyes turned dreamy for a second; in that moment, I could tell he'd had the same inner conflict. "But we already have four kids and babies are hard work."

"No more babies!" I said, and we both laughed. We'd been talking about booking a vasectomy for him and this might have been the reminder we needed. With the pandemic and our wedding in November 2020, we delayed and put aside everything else. I brought it up with my doctor the following week, but we live in a very small, isolated town and staff shortages have meant vasectomies are on hold for now — possibly until 2023 — unless we travel to get one, which my husband isn't very keen to do.

What perimenopause is like — if that's what this actually is

Almost 6 months later, the symptoms of perimenopause have become more obvious: brain fog and mood swings hit at random times and make me feel like I'm on a premenstrual rollercoaster. It's like going through puberty all over again, but in reverse.

My period tracker tells me I'm now on day 107 of my cycle. The doctor ordered blood tests to get an official diagnosis, though it will take another month and more blood tests to get accurate results. With the nature of perimenopause and the hormone fluctuation that people experience, it's not a fast or straightforward process to diagnose.

In the meantime, pregnancy is still on my mind. I can't seem to help it. Perhaps a small part of me will always want more babies. I catch myself fantasizing about holding a newborn sometimes. I loved rocking my babies to sleep, with their soft little heads tucked into my neck and their sweet, milky-baby smell.

It's easy to forget how tiring and hard those early years are. My husband and I are tired enough juggling four kids and busy jobs. Another baby is a nice thought, but in reality, it would mean giving up a lot of the freedoms I have now that my children are older.

The pregnancy test last month was negative, but I keep thinking about the women I know who had babies at 48 and 49 after they thought their periods were done; it's a little scary. I'm sure I'm in perimenopause, but perhaps it's time for one more pregnancy test, just in case.