I didn’t make any resolutions at the start of 2024, but I gave myself an ultimatum.

With my 42nd birthday approaching in November, this was the year I had to try for a baby. It was now or never.

I had been single for a few years, and the idea of dating with the goal of settling down quickly didn’t appeal to me or anyone involved.

So I emailed a fertility clinic. This was not a rash decision over a bottle of wine at 3am. I had been considering becoming a single mom, with the help of a donor, for over a year.

It was a big leap from thinking and talking about it, to sitting across from a doctor and discussing the options.

My age was a factor, because any pregnancy over 35 is considered “geriatric” – which does a lot for one’s confidence in their 40s.

I also have a heart condition and am on blood thinners. I took my time and consulted with specialists, to ensure it was physically safe and that any medication I required would not be harmful to a fetus.

One of the medications I would have to take was safe but exorbitant. I had to consider the financial implications, should I manage to get pregnant.

I wasn’t oblivious to the demands of parenthood. I would need a strong support structure too.

I had made strides in 2023 to reconnect with a church community. I had rekindled other connections and joined new communities.

I was prepared for this daunting adventure. My plan was to give artificial insemination three tries. If it didn’t work, I would accept the outcome.

Well, spoiler alert, it worked on the first try. I was shocked.

You’d think I would be over the moon, but it wasn’t until I saw the heartbeat on a scan at six weeks that it felt real.

I had a threatened miscarriage at seven weeks and was devastated.

But the little heartbeat kept going. My morning sickness was a nightmare in the first trimester. I questioned if I was up to this solo pregnancy, never mind motherhood.

Then, at 13 weeks, the morning sickness was a distant memory. I saw a detailed scan of my perfectly developing baby at 13 weeks and was told that I didn’t have anything to worry about.

A week later, on my birthday, I found out that I was having a boy. To add to the birthday surprise, the medical aid decided to approve my expensive medication. 

This isn’t the typical story of how babies are made, or the fairytale version. But this is absolutely my version.

It has not been the easiest journey, and I know the adventure has hardly begun.

I have a strong tribe around me. My mom has been at my side at every scan.

Both my parents have been there for the tearful phone calls and in-person visits when I’ve felt overwhelmed and ill.

My son will be raised with wonderful friends and family around him. Considering that every one of my birthday presents this year were either for him or for my pregnancy, he’s going to be spoilt. 

There will be no resolutions or ultimatums for 2025. I’ll be over halfway through my pregnancy, and likely fast asleep before midnight on New Years Eve.

Nothing is promised, so I’ll just quote my granny and say “God willing” I’ll be holding my son next winter.