Womb with a view: ‘It took all my courage to broach the baby talk’
When you meet someone later in life, raising the subject of children can be tricky. Sarah*, 41, reveals the pain of forever waiting
I’ve always been the kind of woman who daydreamed about her future children: the names I’d choose, the books I’d read them. If anyone had told me I’d get to the age of 41 and still not be sure whether I’d ever become a mother, I wouldn’t have believed them. But now I’m stuck in baby limbo and acutely aware that I’m running out of time.
In my twenties, I was in a relationship for many years, but it ended when he left me for someone else. During my thirties, love was more elusive and the men I met seemed to share a disdain for commitment, matched with what often seemed to be a visceral horror of the concept of children.
As the decade ticked by, more quickly than I could have prepared myself for, I thought more and more about what it would be like to have a baby on my own. I researched clinics, sperm banks and IUI (intrauterine insemination). At 38, I paid for a fertility check, which reassured me I had plenty of eggs left. All the while, though, a voice I couldn’t quite ignore was saying, ‘But this isn’t what you really want.’ I wanted – had always yearned for – a man to have a baby with. I didn’t just want a child, I wanted a family.
And then, just as I was beginning to lose hope, I met Jamie* at a party. I was 39 and he was 43, tall, attractive and, surprisingly, single. We fell in love quickly, and our relationship was everything I’d been holding out for. He’s considerate, excellent at making me laugh when I’m stressed and a perceptive, supportive sounding-board when work gets tough.
But there was a catch, in the slightly spoilt form of Harry*, his 10-year-old son. Jamie split from Harry’s mother five years ago, and had been trying to make up for his absence with lavish gifts, skiing holidays and endless trips to Nando’s.
Although I told myself to be rational, it upset me that Jamie had created a child with someone else, when I wanted one so badly. When I was introduced to Harry, I tried to be compassionate, knowing meeting me must be confusing and probably difficult. But he made it clear he had no interest in me, barely responding when I spoke to him. Two years on, I still haven’t made much progress, despite all my efforts to be patient and kind.
I knew from the start that Jamie had a son; he talked about him constantly and, at first, I found his devotion endearing. But as soon as I realised I was developing feelings for him, I knew I had to ask him the question that was already gnawing away at me: whether he’d be prepared to have another child. I knew the answer could shatter the joy I was experiencing, leaving me with a dilemma I had no idea how to resolve. If he said ‘No’, and we split up, I could have a baby by myself, but I could also be turning my back on my only chance of romantic happiness.
It took all my courage to broach the subject on our fifth date, but I knew I needed to know. He said he’d expected the question, given my age, and told me he wanted to be totally honest. When Harry was conceived, he had very much wanted to be a father, but coping with the fall-out from the end of his relationship with Harry’s mother had been an experience he’d never want to repeat. As he spoke the words I’d dreaded, a coldness spread through me. But then he offered me a glimmer of hope by saying, ‘But meeting you has made me question that.’
It wasn’t a yes, but nor was it a definite no, and it was enough to convince me to give the relationship a chance. During our first year together, I tried not to mention babies for fear of pressurising him – and, to be honest, of scaring him away. It’s a difficult position for women who feel their motherhood window is closing. Nobody wants to be the woman who lets her desire for a baby overwhelm her personality, becoming completely single-minded and ruthless in her pursuit. And I didn’t want Jamie to think I saw him just as a potential baby daddy. I love him. But with that love came a deepening, primal desire to build a family with him, which I couldn’t hide.
The past year has been difficult. Jamie agreed he’d be willing to try, so I came off the Pill, but nothing happened, and I’m aware that my age is almost certainly a factor. The women I know who are getting pregnant at 40 and 41 are all having fertility treatment, but Jamie has told me he isn’t willing to take that route. I think he’s decided to leave it up to fate – if we have a baby, fine, but if I can’t get pregnant he’s not going to be disappointed. Secretly, I think he’d probably be relieved.
I long to be pregnant, but part of me wonders if Jamie is willing to be the kind of father I’d want my child to have. I also worry that if I don’t get pregnant, I’ll resent him for committing enough to make me stay, but not quite enough to make me fully happy. But we’ve come this far, so all I can do now is wait and hope.