I can remember the exact moment I first felt that primal instinct to be pregnant. I was 12 and my aunt, who I hadn’t seen for several months, walked into out house proceeded by several feet of gorgeous baby belly. I was just in awe of how amazing her body was, to be able to grow this baby, expanding to accommodate another whole human being and to see her flourish whist doing so. I fell in love with the magic that is child bearing and knew that I wanted to carry a child some day, to grow and nourish and birth a little person of my own. It took several more years before I got to the point of day dreaming about actually caring for and rearing a child, and then always was able to put my broodyness to one side because it wasn’t the right time. But then I finished uni, got a job, still broody but not ready, bought a house, met my wife, got a lot more broody so got a cat, went travelling, super broody so bought a puppy, got married and WHAM! That was it, I was ready! Nothing (except being slightly broke, blah blah who cares!) I’m not sure my wife, or even me for that matter, was prepared for quite how desperate I was suddenly to start on this process.
Oh shit! I’ll be the crazy, crying-because-my-period-came-even-though-were-not-trying-yet ttc woman then.