the 11th HOUR CHILD
Through my fertile years I was too afraid to create a child. The responsibility of motherhood seemed far too daunting. Babies were being born all around me, but I just could not take that step; I marvelled at how easily other women could. I will do it, I promised myself, when the time is right; when the man is perfect.
When Mr Almost Perfect eventually showed up, I imagined (with some misgivings) that a pregnancy would soon follow. The fact that it didn’t should have sounded a warning bell. Maybe our biorhythms were out of sync, our charts misaligned, or our hearts
