I tried for 15 years to have a child, suffering miscarriages and heartache along the way. My DS came along as a most welcome surprise just after I turned 40. I love him to bits, but find myself wondering, is this it? Why do we go through all the heartache only to confine ourselves to the world of the baby, with no grown up conversation, adult company or time to do even simple things. My DP works all the hours god sends, and currently I have seen him for 5 hours in the last 4 weeks. He has a good job, but this is what it must be like to be a single parent. (Except I know real single parents struggle financially and probably wonder what the bloody hell I'm moaning about). I thought I had it cracked and had made a friend with a son the same age. Except I blew it. Her son kept hitting mine with progressively bigger and harder things so I suggested we go 'out' rather than our houses. She hasn't spoken to me since. Anyway, feel better for just putting it down in words. Maybe I should just go back on the Fluoxetine. x