One of those rare articles about struggling to conceive that doesn’t end in a baby (or two), here is a recent piece from the Guardian in which Sally-Ann Rowland describes coming to terms with life after infertility and miscarriage.

I turned 40, spent my IVF savings on two overseas trips and pulled the pencil out the closing door of reproduction.

I found it uplifting that she was able to change her outlook towards the usual benchmarks of ‘success’ in our culture – her experience has allowed her to see life as ‘less of a string of acquisitions (husband, children, real estate, career accolades, objects)’ and find contentment and satisfaction in what she has.

I learnt to live without getting what I wanted. I am so grateful for that.

The comments are the usual mixed-bag of Guardian readers competing to be the most insensitive/smug/crankily Malthusian, along with some heartfelt ones.

The one I like best just says:

‘Well done for writing this’.

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