The Mail on Sunday

Why no woman should wait until 40 to have a baby

As new figures reveal that more fortysomet­hings give birth than teenagers...

-

son had died inside me. I now know where the expression ‘climbing the walls’ comes from.

I flung myself around, groping, calling, crying for my boy. Even my IVF gynaecolog­ist, who deals with grief on regular basis, wept – no doubt sensing the impossibil­ity of me ever getting pregnant again.

Most women agree t hat t he only way to truly overcome such a loss is to have another baby. So I kept trying.

If you know the joy that a baby brings, perhaps you’ll be able to imagine the pain at not being able to have one.

Like many women in my situation, I experience­d emotions I hadn’t known existed within me – fear, isolation, desperatio­n, envy.

I avoided mums with prams, steered clear of sibling groups at the school gate and fought a daily swell of self- loathing that came with the growing knowledge that my predicamen­t could so easily have been avoided just a few years earlier. How I wailed for what I’d lost – the ability to create and nur- ture new life. I was a woman apparently in the prime of her life, but I couldn’t have a baby. I wasn’t able to give my husband a second child, nor gift my daughter a sibling.

I never imagined I’d be that woman, pounding my way through numerous cycles of IVF in search of a perfect egg. But, at the ripe old age of 43, in the face of diminishin­g odds and limited funds, that was me.

Infertilit­y cost me friendship­s, work and a lot of money: seven rounds of IVF, totalling £32,000. Holidays are a thing of the past and we no longer have a car. But, eventually, I did strike gold. I’d stopped treatment, but had one remaining frozen embryo from my sixth cycle – and that embryo became baby Elena.

You can take from my story that nowadays anything is possible. If you’re in your 40s and where I was two years ago, that’s probably the message you need to hear, and I wish you all the luck in the world.

But if you are a decade younger, please bear in mind that had Elena not arrived, this article would have been too painful to write.

Rather than pink congratula­tion cards, there would have been quiet mutterings: ‘How could she be so foolish. Spending all that money when she already has a child.’

Yet now nobody looks at Elena and tells me she wasn’t worth it.

We tend to only hear about miracle births. Society likes winners; failure and loss are far harder to share. Sadly the result is a distorted impression of what’s possible.

When Elena f i nall y became an establishe­d pregnancy at 12 weeks, I was terrified and exhaust ed t hroughout t he remaining six months.

I got pregnant exactly ten years after the conception and birth of my first daughter, but the two experience­s were incomparab­le.

Fully aware of the increased chance of birth defects and chromos omal abnormalit­ies in ol der women, I never slept the night before a neonatal scan.

With much lower energy levels, work proved an uphill struggle.

Mr Smith confirms the risk to older mothers is higher during

It cost me friends, work and money… £32,000 in total

pregnancy, and that includes the chance of maternal death. ‘ We see age-related problems like heart disease appear in 45-yearolds that we wouldn’t in a younger woman,’ he says.

I was lucky. My pregnancy with Elena turned out to be incident-free but when my team confirmed I had a low-lying placenta, I was quick to agree to a caesarean.

It is a major operation that often leaves the mother unable to move freely for weeks, sometimes months, and yet proportion­ally it’s older women who are more likely to opt for one.

With my first child, I had a home birth minus pain relief. Back then, I was so blase, I even made a film about the experience.

After a five-year struggle, Elena’s birth was always going to be a joyous occasion, and so it proved. But having a baby later in life is a very different experience.

My dad is now dead, my mum has poor sight; Elena’s cousins are much older, as are most of my friends’ children; so care options and Elena’s access to extended family are reduced.

Sure, I pinch myself every day – I’ve won the lottery of life. But it didn’t need to be that hard.

 ??  ??
 ??  ??
 ??  ?? COMPLETE JOY: Tessa at home with Elena, left. Above: A cuddle for Elena with big sister Mara
COMPLETE JOY: Tessa at home with Elena, left. Above: A cuddle for Elena with big sister Mara

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from United Kingdom