I was talking to a friend about my indecision a few weeks ago. We went to school together so it’s the kind of friendship that will withstand anything life throws our way. She looked at me and said ‘You can’t not do this! All you’ve ever wanted since I met you was to be a mother. You’ll be a wonderful mother. You have said for years that you would do it alone if you had to.’ Tough love.

She’s right. I did say it. I said ‘when I get to 35, if I’m still single …’ 35 came and went. I had time on my side and hope that I would meet someone and even if we dated for a year then married, I’d still have time. My next hurdle was 37. Same story … even if we meet and marry after a year, even if it takes us a while to fall pregnant, I’ll still have my first baby by 40. Needless to say, 37 came and went then 38 came and was half gone when the doubt crept in. I’ve thought of very little else for 6 months. I work, I socialise, I come home and go to bed … and instead of sleeping I think, I wonder – alone.

How did I get to be this girl? The one who is 9 months shy of turning 40, still single and definitely now won’t have her first child by the time she’s 40? What happened to the other me? The one who – 9 months before her 40^th birthday would look at her gorgeous family (husband, 3 children, dogs) and be thankful for how blessed she is and then turn her mind to wondering what she might need to do to look amazing for her 40^th birthday? The other me who celebrated engagement, marriage, honeymoon, home renovating, babymoon, first (second, third) positive pregnancy tests, new babies, teaching older siblings (and furry friends) about younger ones and watching them grow. Family holidays, first days at school, outgrowng our first home. That girl is the girl I thought I’d be by now. Not this girl.