All my adult life I’ve had dreams about having a baby that fill me with desperate yearning, but lately they’ve been increasing in frequency. And I’m not talking about wishing for grandchildren or anything mawkish like that, it’s the full nine yards – labour, delivery, breast feeding. I wonder if it’s something to do with the possible imminence of a “change of life” ahead for me? You know, when you go from being a young and vibrant person to being slightly less young but still vibrant.
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A clarification: other people’s babies fill me with repugnance, so don’t worry, I’m not going to be nipping down to the local shops and pilfering someone else’s noxious rugrat out of it’s pram anytime soon.