I still firmly believed that babies are amazing, important, wonderful things. But abruptly I understood I didn’t want another baby, not really. I wanted to be a mum to baby Conrad again. Specifically, I wanted to be 31 again. I was suffering from a mid-life crisis; a kid-life crisis. Is it possible that middle-aged women yearn for babies not because they want a baby per se, but because they want to be the woman they were when they had their babies; a desirable, vibrant, important young being. It’s exactly the same as a guy buying a convertible car or chatting up his secretary. It’s about resisting the inevitable. Ageing.
I discussed my theory with friends. “Oh yes,” admitted one. “It’s just so wonderful being pregnant, everyone is interested in you.”
“Yes,” added another excitedly, “and you’ve got a purpose.”
“You feel so alive. So far from death,” contributed a third.