Some of you may have read my blog about having a miscarriage and then being too scared to try again.
I'm finally fully embracing the idea but very soon I turn 39. All through my thirties I thought I was bobbing along fancy-free and young at heart. Now the reality has hit that I'm one step away from 40. Cue sirens and red flashing lights. Each month is worth its weight in gold now, so it is a mission even if not necessarily missionary.
If you search "baby at 40" and read any of the doom and gloom views you will want to just hang up your procreating boots.
The worst about this is that everyone has an opinion once you're over 35. Even if you do not ask for it they give it. Proven mums think they have the right.
Some people tell you "not to think about it" and just "relax". It is true that I conceived last year when least expecting it. On a long weekend at the seaside where it rained the whole time. But it is so much easier said than done.
Then there is the school that say IVF is the modern day solution for older mothers. I have friends who have been broken by the whole procedure - financially and emotionally. I also know of other success stories. Maybe in time I will need to try it but for now I remain hesitant.
Then others, the sympathetic clan, who suggest trying to adopt or foster. I would be very happy to do this. I adore children and would easily love an adopted child unconditionally. But as a woman I somehow want to prove to myself first I can do it. Oestrogen arrogance maybe. But it is an innate feeling.
The worst group are the no hopers. They nod and shuffle there feet and politely suggest I accept being childless and focus on other things like travel or even get a dog. WTF?
I have had a life with ups and fair few downs and I honestly feel I wasn't ready till now. Dealing with a broken marriage, public humiliation by old workplace and my father's death has taken its time and its toll. I needed to digest and process before I could create life.
The irony is that I wasn't sure I wanted a baby before and I had more eggs than an Easter hunt. Now I do I maybe find the basket is empty.
But instead of wallowing I have started to call in my baby. By that I mean affirming that it will happen. Thoughts become words that become deeds and actions.
We are moving house and will finally have our own home, not a vestige of my husband's former life. It was never truly my home and this is a new start for us.
Living well also seems a good step forward. Less coffee and booze plus healthier stuff. Though it can be taken to extremes. The homeopath of a friend of mine had told her not to walk barefoot as it chills the ovaries and to breathe real air when doing exercise as opposed to gym air. I think I will stick with no diet coke for now.
I have stopped trying to plan it e.g obsessively doing calendar tests online. I also chucked away ovulation tests as they just made me confused with all there different coloured lines. Not a great foreplay to love making either. It smacks of "Get to bed NOW as am about to hatch an egg..."
I was also advised by some spiritual friends to connect with the baby's soul. Before incarnation that soul is said to be around you. I like this idea and have always felt that there was a little angel on my shoulder.
I have also stopped feeling sorry for myself as I pass babies in prams and heavily pregnant women. I would feel a pang of envy mixed with anxiety. Instead I am hanging around with as many babes as I can. My nephews, godchildren and friends kids. Practice makes perfect and maybe I will catch the baby bug.
On a serious note I will not let these feelings of inadequacy and over-the-hill-ness defeat me. Better to have fought and failed than never to have tried at all.
To be continued...