Federica Romei
University of Oxford
I was recently in a meeting where we were comparing candidates for a position. During the discussion, a colleague asked me about a female candidate who has children: “How much should we add to her PhD year? One year per child?” I didn’t know how to answer. In my experience, pregnancy and maternity are difficult—often impossible—to compress into a single number. But he kept pressing. How much? One year? More? Less? I didn’t know the answer for that case. I only knew it for mine.
My idea of pregnancy? My belly growing while I kept being productive writing papers and traveling for conference. The reality? Veeery far from it. During my pregnancy, I lived through several versions of myself. First trimester: early 90s Kate Moss. I disliked all food—especially protein. I started vomiting by the end of the first trimester. I lost three kilos in less than three months. Working? Not super easy. Second trimester: Anna Karenina at the end of the book. The nausea eased, and something else replaced it: I became irritable and antisocial. I hated being around people. I wanted to be alone. Academic work is not only research—it’s seminars, collaboration, networks, meetings. So: not ideal. Still, I could focus on research, and for a while that felt like a win. Third trimester: a Boterian woman. Remember the “minus three kilos”? That turned into plus twenty. I felt gigantic and exhausted all the time. I woke up at night with unbearable cramps. Gaia was positioned in a way that pinched a nerve, and sometimes I couldn’t walk. My productivity collapsed together with my capacity to walk.
Every day I thought: I don’t want to be pregnant anymore. I wasn’t even scared of giving birth—because I truly believed anything would be better than this. Well, I was tested. My first birth was 25 hours of labour, ending with a vacuum extraction. Gaia went to the emergency room, fighting for her first breath. It was so bad that a couple of days later, the hospital called to ask whether I wanted psychological support or a debrief.
And then it was over? Not even close. There was breastfeeding and sleep deprivation. Gaia was a very hungry baby. I fed her every two hours. This is the point of the story when your hero has a flashback to explain to readers her genius idea. When I got pregnant, I thought I’d be productive after giving birth – Ah Ah! I kept the organization of the SSE seminar series (the macro part). I decided to teach my course (Why? Why? Why?). And wait for it…I even signed up to interview candidates at the job market in Rotterdam. My mum brought me Gaia across interviews so I could breastfeed between sessions. I was trying to prove a point: that I was still productive, still “serious,” still the same worker as before. Result? A disaster.
The end? Naaaaah. Around six months, I reduced breastfeeding—and that triggered a severe postpartum depression. In March 2020, I finally went back to work… just in time for COVID. Suddenly, we were all trapped again in our small flat: Sergio, Gaia, and me. Not great for productivity. When I put everything together, I was in a chaos mode from November 2018 to March 2020. Could I go back to work and be productive? Not immediately. After sleep deprivation, fatigue, the physical recovery, and the hormonal chaos, you don’t just return to the office and write a paper. You need time to become you again. If I’m honest, it was probably around September 2020 before I reached something like decent productivity. Not even my previous level—just… something functional.
After that came a miscarriage. Secondary infertility. Another baby. Emergency surgery for appendicitis (almost alone, because my youngest had a high fever). And then chronic pain, because something went wrong during the surgery.
Back to my colleague: “How much time should we add? One year per child?” I understood the need behind the question. We want a clean adjustment. A neat number. A fair correction. But my experience doesn’t fit into a number. In my case, it wasn’t one year. Not even close.
Just to leave the reader with some hope: Was it worth it? Yes, yes, yes. Despite all the costs, Gaia and Elettra are the best decisions I have ever made.