The ultimate freak out

You know how the universe specialises in sending crazy stuff my way?

Well … I thought it had totally outdone itself a few weeks ago.

I was too paranoid to tell you about it until I was sure I was in the clear.

Sooooooo, DD and I had lunch recently with a friend who is celebrating falling unexpectedly, naturally pregnant at 42 after her fertility treatments failed.

I asked her about the moment she suspected she was pregnant. She said it was when her boobs hurt so much that even fabric brushing against them was painful … and then her period didn’t come …

I stared at her in horror because that’s exactly what happened to me about two weeks before.

My anxious brain went into overdrive. Could I be pregnant? I couldn’t possibly be!

How on earth could a 51-year-old woman with a giant fibroid in her razed womb be pregnant?

Well, if any 51 year old could manage it, it would be me.

All the colour drained from my face and DD suggested I take a pregnancy test to set my mind at ease. But how daft would I feel doing that? Of course I wasn’t pregnant!

So I waited it out and my period eventually arrived. Thank the stars and moon, I’m not up the duff, I’m just shutting up shop.

Being up the duff would be HORRIFYING.

My body didn’t cope with it AT ALL at 39, let alone 51. As long-time readers of HouseGoesHome may recall from a blog called “The elephant in the room (plus the one in my pants)” terrible things happened to my nethers during pregnancy. Add to that my predilection for permanent morning sickness, plus my chicken injury pelvis and I’d barely be mobile.

Not to mention that DD and I – at 51 and 55 respectively – are more in the grandparent age group.

And one of the relaxing things about our relationship is that we’re simply dating, not co-parenting.

Having a baby would be the opposite of relaxing, for absolutely everyone in our orbit. Well, maybe not for my youngest, who loves small children (as per above pic).

I confessed my pregnancy fears to my school friends during a recent catch-up. We mused on what the hell we would do if we discovered we were pregnant at 50+. None of us were at all comfortable with either having the baby or the alternative.

We agreed it was a situation we weren’t eager to face.

And phew, I don’t have to!

Now I can exhale … until I find something else to worry about …

Song of the day: Kate Bush “This woman’s work”


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