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A first time mum at 39, trying not to let my son kill me off too soon. Busy juggling a new family, a new house and a tricky recording schedule I figured blogging would be less expensive than therapy and less embarrassing than shouting at rude and stupid people in the street/on trains/at the supermarket.

Friday, 8 July 2011

Yesterday I went for a blood test.  I say 'blood test', but in the words of the late, great Tony Hancock, I had to provide 'very nearly an armful'.  Who knew that you needed to give 3 full tubes of the stuff?

Anyway, that aside, the reason for my blood test was emblazoned across the testing form…

Not sure I ever imagined that I would ever be in that category of people. Certainly not during my 20's when I spent the whole time praying that I wasn't pregnant - and I mean literally praying sometimes. 
It’s all a bit odd isn’t it?  I’ve spent the last 20 years doing everything I can to prevent reproduction and now it seems that I may need not have worried quite so much.

I’m going to be honest, I’ve never really been that bothered about children.  I’ve always worked on the theory that if I have one then great but if I don’t, that’s also great.  It would also mean that I would have more disposable income, a tidier house, better holidays and spend much more time asleep.  Frankly that sounds like quite a good deal to me.

That was until the possibility that the ability to choose might have been taken away from me.  Husb and I stopped trying to prevent babies a week or so before our wedding last year and 10 months on there’s still no sign.  Actually, that’s not strictly true.  I’m fairly sure I came back from my honeymoon pregnant, and I’m fairly sure that a few days later that was no longer the case.  For someone who is never late, nor ever suffers from cramps, I was a week late and bedridden in agony.  Husb had never seen me like that before and was clearly shaken at the sight of his wife throwing nurofen down her neck whilst doubled-up in pain in bed by 8.30pm.

I was quite pragmatic about it back then – in a way it’s good news, I mean, if I was pregnant then that means that I can get pregnant. The time just wasn’t right then unfortunately.  Last night, however, whilst having a very grown-up discussion about our respective ‘deposits’ that morning (yes, Husb had to do ‘his bit’ too and believe me it was far less glamorous than giving blood!) I got more emotional then I ever could have imagined.  Not helped by the news of the birth of a new baby to our friends who got married a week before we did last year.  It could so easily have been us sharing that news. 

I suppose the big problem is that this is not something that Husb and I really want (or feel it appropriate) to discuss with all our friends at this time.  Yes, two close girlfriends know we're going for tests as does my mum but right now we'd rather not make it pub-chat-fodder.   It does make it that little bit awkward though when we get asked AGAIN if we're thinking about having children.  Hey ho.

So, what's the answer?  Well it's not all doom and gloom is it? We've been told to 'just enjoy trying'.  Sounds good to me.  I prescribe a glass of wine and an early night!

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