Really? It’s Taken Till Now?

Hope, visualisation, sheer determination or foolhardiness

I didn’t give up hope of having my own child. I knew it would happen. I’m very optimistic , spiritual and stubborn (the taurean in me), so I knew it would …. one day.

Despite the years fleeting by, the failed fertility interventions, the frustrating holistic therapies which didn’t seem to work but may have helped in the long term (we live in a ‘want it right now’ society and are disappointed when we don’t get it handed to us on a plate), messages from beyond the grave (yes, my Dad advised, through a recommended medium I saw a couple of months after he passed nearly 8 years ago, that I would have a birth child), I played the long, waiting game. Because I had to.

As I write this, I feel her little kicks inside of me. I know she is there. She tells me. The hospital scans tell me. The 6 months of nausea shouted it at me. The indigestion and heartburn now scream it at me. But it still feels surreal.

She is due to arrive next month. I’m told my bump is petite – although it feels like a hard beach ball ensconced under my rib-cage  – and growing nicely, keeping within the right parameters set out by the NHS.

So, I’m really pregnant and expecting a baby girl. Who would have thought it. Certainly not my friends, colleagues or neighbours. Even my hubby was taken aback. And to be honest, I didn’t really expect our agreed final attempt at IVF to work back in the summer, when I had come so close (positive pregnancy results!) only to fail in the past.

So this is the start of a new chapter in my story…fit, fabulous, fifty and with child.

First at fifty

Observations of life as a first time, full term pregnant 50- something, fit, fab, femme!

Little Kicks Inside

Well, as humans, we like to share our views and ideas with others and we also have a natural curiosity to know how others live their lives… media allows us to  dip in and out of others’ realities looking for inspiration, advice, hope or just a good chuckle! My blog is now ‘out there’ sent with my good intentions to do just that …… inform, amuse and/or horrify (if you are of that disposition) of the realities of having my first bundle of joy at the ripe old-ish age of 50. Whilst juggling life, of course.