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Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling broody…

1
Here are the reasons that trying for a third baby is a) really not a good idea and b) highly unlikely to result in me actually having another baby:

I turned 40 three months ago.
I have a chronic illness called Ankylosing Spondylitis, which is a type of inflammatory arthritis that affects my spine and several other joints and causes pain and fatigue.
The treatment I take for this is monthly injections of a biologic therapy which have made a huge difference to my health, but are not compatible with pregnancy.
My daughters are 12 and 6, and

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2
so would be at least 13 and 7 before a hypothetical new sibling arrived.
My husband never wanted more than two children and his views haven’t changed.
Covid has left our finances in a somewhat precarious position.
Between my eldest daughter and my rainbow daughter I had five miscarriages, one of which was an ectopic pregnancy.
Tests following these discovered that I have a unicornucate uterus – basically half my womb is missing. It is harder for me to get pregnant and harder to stay pregnant. Doctors estimated that each time I conceive I
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3
have only a 25% chance of the pregnancy resulting in a healthy baby. I have been beyond lucky to have two miraculous daughters, and I don’t think I have the capacity to intentionally expose myself to more loss.
After my youngest daughter’s traumatic birth I suffered from PTSD and anxiety for years – still do at times, though I am much better than I was.
I have spent 12 years primarily as a stay-at-home mum. Now my youngest is in school and (hopefully!) the last year of on-off home learning is behind us it is my chance to focus on what I do for
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me, for the rest of my life.

They’re exceptionally good reasons, right? And I know that they are such good reasons that another baby really isn’t on the cards. But I am finding that hard to come to terms with.

Nausea and exhaustion aside, I loved being pregnant. I adored breastfeeding. I felt proud of my body for what it achieved. I relished being at home with my daughters when they were toddlers, and, although I am aware that I do regard those years through a rose-tinted haze, I found such contentment in the routine that goes with small

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children, in trips to the park and Julia Donaldson stories and crafts. When I was a little girl, and a teenager, I didn’t really know what job  I wanted to do when I grew up, but I had crystal clear certainty that I wanted to be a mother. At 40 I’m still trying to work out what I want to do when I grow up, but I am a mother and love it and find it to be everything I hoped and more.

In some ways my children don’t need me any less now they are older, but there is nothing quite so all-encompassing as caring for a baby or toddler and I just really

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6
bloody miss it. I can feel tears prick my eyes as I walk past Jojo Maman Bebe or down the nappies aisle in Boots. I found my true identity, my authentic self as the mother of small children, and now I need to somehow recalibrate.

Believe me, after experiencing multiple pregnancy losses myself and watching numerous friends suffer baby loss or infertility I am more than aware of my good fortune, and I count my blessings every single day. I know that I need to move on, and accept that the baby phase of my life is over. I am just finding so damn hard.

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What do I do to pull myself together, escape this monthly cycle of sadness and embrace the next stage of life?
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- 25 May 21

Here are the reasons that trying for a third baby is a) really not a good idea and b) highly unlikely to result in me actually having another baby:

  1. I turned 40 three months ago.
  2. I have a chronic illness called Ankylosing Spondylitis, which is a type of inflammatory arthritis that affects my spine and several other joints and causes pain and fatigue.
  3. The treatment I take for this is monthly injections of a biologic therapy which have made a huge difference to my health, but are not compatible with pregnancy.
  4. My daughters are 12 and 6, and so would be at least 13 and 7 before a hypothetical new sibling arrived.
  5. My husband never wanted more than two children and his views haven’t changed.
  6. Covid has left our finances in a somewhat precarious position.
  7. Between my eldest daughter and my rainbow daughter I had five miscarriages, one of which was an ectopic pregnancy.
  8. Tests following these discovered that I have a unicornucate uterus – basically half my womb is missing. It is harder for me to get pregnant and harder to stay pregnant. Doctors estimated that each time I conceive I have only a 25% chance of the pregnancy resulting in a healthy baby. I have been beyond lucky to have two miraculous daughters, and I don’t think I have the capacity to intentionally expose myself to more loss.
  9. After my youngest daughter’s traumatic birth I suffered from PTSD and anxiety for years – still do at times, though I am much better than I was.
  10. I have spent 12 years primarily as a stay-at-home mum. Now my youngest is in school and (hopefully!) the last year of on-off home learning is behind us it is my chance to focus on what I do for me, for the rest of my life.

They’re exceptionally good reasons, right? And I know that they are such good reasons that another baby really isn’t on the cards. But I am finding that hard to come to terms with.

Nausea and exhaustion aside, I loved being pregnant. I adored breastfeeding. I felt proud of my body for what it achieved. I relished being at home with my daughters when they were toddlers, and, although I am aware that I do regard those years through a rose-tinted haze, I found such contentment in the routine that goes with small children, in trips to the park and Julia Donaldson stories and crafts. When I was a little girl, and a teenager, I didn’t really know what job  I wanted to do when I grew up, but I had crystal clear certainty that I wanted to be a mother. At 40 I’m still trying to work out what I want to do when I grow up, but I am a mother and love it and find it to be everything I hoped and more.

In some ways my children don’t need me any less now they are older, but there is nothing quite so all-encompassing as caring for a baby or toddler and I just really bloody miss it. I can feel tears prick my eyes as I walk past Jojo Maman Bebe or down the nappies aisle in Boots. I found my true identity, my authentic self as the mother of small children, and now I need to somehow recalibrate.

Believe me, after experiencing multiple pregnancy losses myself and watching numerous friends suffer baby loss or infertility I am more than aware of my good fortune, and I count my blessings every single day. I know that I need to move on, and accept that the baby phase of my life is over. I am just finding so damn hard. What do I do to pull myself together, escape this monthly cycle of sadness and embrace the next stage of life?

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I'm author of novels 'Two For Joy' and 'To Have and to Hold' and mum to two daughters aged twelve and six. As well as writing, and my children, I love reading, cooking, eating and exploring London (and further afield when I get the chance). I was born and brought up in Liverpool, studied English at Oxford University, and now live in East London with my husband, daughters and cat.

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