I was never a "kid" person. I didn't babysit much as a teen, and before I had kids, I barely knew anyone with kids. I had no idea how to talk to a kid. But I knew I wanted one — the urge hit me at 30, and even with no partner in sight, nesting with a little one was what I craved.
So when I finally got married, pretty late in my 30s, and we finally got pregnant with the aid of IVF, I thought having a baby seemed like an OK idea. The IVF folks called this a "miracle" embryo for having implanted on my first IVF try, and it seemed like I was blessed. All would be well.
Then, we moved back to the east coast, and suddenly, my OB/gyn was administering tons of tests and frightening me with the possibility of problems. After all, I was labeled AMA, for "advanced maternal age." They considered me a high-risk pregnancy. I had never been high-risk anything. I started to get nervous. I read up, obsessed, and worried.
Here's what I would do differently, if I had it to do all over again:
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SEE ALSO: 8 ways my life at 45 looks nothing like I expected