Anna, I felt like you about other people's children. I honestly did. How could they be bothered to have these little demanding creatures around them all the time? Pestering. Sticky-fingered. Crusty. Runny-nosed. I too came away thinking "phew, not for me, not yet, if ever!"
Then I was told I couldn't have children.
And it made me think about it in a different way. Never?
That seemed very final. Very much as though my life, which had been full of choices, had one path, a cold one, full of visits to galleries, fancy restaurants, peaceful evenings in a beige living room, city breaks not beach holidays, perhaps some tasteful candles on the hearth, immaculate lawn.
And that didn't seem like such a good swap, to me. I wanted to feel a baby move inside me, to pat my tummy and talk to my unborn child, to experience giving birth, to nourish my baby with my body, to feel a closeness to a human being that you don't get, ever, unless you have a child.
Five years later, I took fertility drugs and had scans to check I was producing enough but not too many eggs. I saw the one egg I did produce that month on the scan, on my birthday. That egg will be three next month. His little brother is just one.
I still don't like other people's children much (except a handful of children I know well) - but my own? I cannot imagine a deeper love for anybody. I can't tell you that it will be the same for you, but anybody who can conjure up such an emotional picture of what their never-to-be child is like has clearly thought about it more than somebody who doesn't want children ever.
I won't lie. It is hard. But it is hard in a very good way and the best thing I have ever done. And although there are days I would happily sleep for Britain, there's never been a second I've regretted swapping the path with the beige room, the candles on the hearth and the immaculate lawn for the one with my two boys. And it just gets better as they get bigger.
I think you have nothing to lose by having children - and everything to gain. If you were set on not having children, I don't think you could have written the article.
I feel for you. I think you are where I was ten years ago - and I might still be there had I not been told I couldn't have children. Because when I'm told I can't do something...well, it makes me want to!
I look forward to hearing of your pregnancy (and I bet that sent a thrill through you, reading that)