2019-09-01_Fairlady

hroughmyfertileyearsI was

tooafraidto createa child.The

responsibilityof motherhood

seemedfartoodaunting.Babies

werebeingbornallaroundme,

butI justcouldnottakethat

step;I marvelledat howeasily

otherwomencould.I willdoit,I promisedmyself,

whenthetimeis right;whenthemanis perfect.

WhenMrAlmostPerfecteventuallyshowedup,

I imagined(withsomemisgivings)thata pregnancy

wouldsoonfollow.Thefactthatit didn’tshouldhave

soundeda warningbell.Maybeourbiorhythmswere

outof sync,ourchartsmisaligned,orourheartsjust

notinit,buttherelationshipdidn’tsurviveand

the

Jesse was my miracle baby, the 11

th

hour child.

HOUR CHILD

a baby fell off the agenda. Again. That momentous

and irreversible decision to bring a child into the

world could once again be pushed into the future –

where it belonged. I hadn’t been quite ready anyway,

I told myself, and there was still time.

My 40th birthday took me by surprise. I awoke

from a strange dream of a solemn-faced, blue-eyed,

blond boy trying to call me from a red telephone box.

Maybe this was the child I had chosen not to have,

I thought. Gripped by the cold, implacable reality

of being alone forever, I saw a barren future of never

being a mother, of never being a family, of being

incomplete.

The prospect of childlessness was suddenly so

unbearable that I couldn’t accept it. I was galvanised

BYCAROL POOLTON

11th

32 Fairlady/September 2019