Deceive to conceive

I don’t want to come across as a spoilt brat who’s just not getting what she wants. I know I’m lucky to have my daughter. I also know that kids are starving in Africa and there are people younger than me dying of cancer. I try to live in the moment, appreciate what I have and stop wanting more. But then someone will say something like “don’t let her be an only child whatever you do” and I feel sad Rosie will never know the closeness of a sister or brother.

My mum rang the other morning.

“Put on Woman’s Hour. It’s about women who want children when their husbands don’t.”

I listened for inspiration but came away unconvinced. The story that stuck was about a man who only changed his mind after being swept up in the tsunami. I can hardly arrange for disaster to strike him, though sometimes I find myself wishing it would.

The Prince and I have been together five years. Our daughter Rosie, who’s three, is the most treasured being on this planet (apart from when she draws blood at bedtime).

We got pregnant in the heat of a new relationship. It’s irresponsible to have a kid with someone you’ve only known for six months but even then my body clock had introduced itself. I no longer cared for my stripped wood floorboards if there were no tiny feet to pitter patter over them.

The Prince was appalled when the blue line appeared. I forgot to mention he's eight years younger. But he soon got over the shock and we were lucky. It worked out. He’s besotted with Rosie. Had we waited for the “right” time, she’d not be here. It’s not rocket science, that’s why I’m baffled now. Everything’s been so good until my friends got cracking on expanding their brood and I got left behind.

There’s only one route left. I must deceive to conceive.