Angus' house in Brighton has had a sale agreed on it, which is an enormous sigh of relief for almost everyone involved. It's ready to go, sale moving on, and Angus' insurance period expired just as the sale was agreed. Since the sale was moving through he decided not to renew it, as since the house is listed as a historical building (it's over 250 years old) the insurance is shockingly high.

So naturally it got broken into last week.

Nothing too serious happened-some yobbos threw around some paint in the yard, ripped up some garden fixtures, and broke a window in the door trying to get in. Luckily for all of us this house is equipped with teeny-tiny windows reminiscent of the time period it was built in, so it's almost impossible to break into. The glass was fixed but Angus and I decided to buy some cheap lights and timers and install them, so that from the road it would look occupied.

Thus a drive down to Brighton on Saturday.

As we drive, my mouth finds its way around thoughts that have been slinging inside of my brain for a little while.

My feet on the dashboard as we whiz down the M25, I tuck my skirt under my legs. "Can we, maybe, talk about babies later this week? We don't have to do it now. Just sometime soon."

The profile of Angus grins. I love to look at him. "I had a feeling this would come up today."

"We don't have to talk about it now." I say, my stomach in knots. Some issues can cause problems, and I dread problems. "Just sometime."

He nods. We make small talk, passing cars full of people heading to places I don't know and don't care about. It's clear there's a metaphorical bassinette between us in the front seat, so Angus puts his hands around the handles and lifts it up. "We can talk about this, you just have to lead." he says, leaning one arm against the window.

I nod. I tell him what he already knows-that more than I care to admit I want to have a child. And even more than that, I want to have a child with him, a family with him. He's this jigsaw piece I never had, an element that I had missing from the periodic chart. I have a stomach full of butterflies as I ask him details about what we should do, what we can do.

And for the first time he tells me that he won't say no if we start IVF in the summer, although at the same time he won't be terribly pro-active, that if we do this I'll be the driver. IVF in this country is stunningly expensive, however there's an option in some hospitals where they will cut the price in half if you will donate half of your eggs. Seeing as this country also won't freeze unused eggs and that I could be helping other women just as desperate to have a child as I am, I have no problem with this whatsoever. I just need to do a bit of research to find said hospitals.

I ask him about adopting a baby as an option (and yes-for me it would have to be a baby). My X Partner Unit was 100% against adoption, it wasn't an option he would consider. Angus tells me he will consider it, but with a few caveats. I promise to do some research to see what our options are.

He also says that we can only do one or the other-either IVF or adoption, as to him it feels half-hearted otherwise.

To me? Well, to me it just feels like we would be doing everything we can. Adoption can take a long time and there are no guarantees. IVF is expensive and I know we can't go through it very many times, as it is just too hard on me (and on him). I feel a bit stressed to determine what is the right way of action, what we should do, what we can do. I look at my driving man and wish that at that moment I could curl up on a bed with him and have him hold me and talk to me, to trace circles on his arms and plant kisses on his neck.

The method of how we have a child is irrelevant to me. I am not driven by the need to get pregnant and give birth, I have never felt that I must go through that in order to feel like a mother. It's simple-I am driven by the desire to raise a child with the man I love more than anything in the world. I want to be a mother-birth mother or adopted mother, it doesn't matter. I would be absolutely thrilled to adopt a tiny Chinese baby, a little someone that would be raised and adored in this household. I would be absolutely thrilled to have my own child, to understand that moment that women say they have, where they lock eyes and fall in love for life.

We end the discussion and go to the house, setting up the lights. We laugh and talk, we buy a few things in town. We spend a long time in an Asian food shop, an unusual mix of Halal, Indian, West African. We buy incredible spices and some samosas cooked in a kitchen upstairs by someone's mum, and we eat them in our fingers while we walk up the street, licking the grease off our fingers as we go. I find the need to be close to him overwhelming, almost addictive. He takes me to dinner in one of my favorite restaurants, a vegetarian place called Food for Friends, and we sit at a tiny table for two and steal bites from each others' plates.

When I hear Angus on the phone to Melissa and Jeff I think that he's a wonderful father with such a huge heart. He cares so much about every detail of their lives, and it comforts me to know that this is the man I am going into this with. It's a roller coaster, but as I look at a picture of us smiling and happy on holiday in the Bahamas, I think I have found the ideal seat-mate to hold my hand and get through the ride with.

Will he love me just as much on the other side of this process, regardless of the outcome? Will he always love me this way? Does he know how much I care about him, does my blog make it clear or do my eyes tell him what's inside?

Today will be spent doing research, I think. I have a fair amount of work to do, but I also have a fair amount of questions within myself that will eat me if I ignore them. I am so pleased that we may get to be parents together, that we have reached a point where it looks like we have options.

I feel good about this relationship I have with a man I never knew I could have, I never thought I could ever deserve. The idea that I could be a mother with the one man who seems so calm, so in control of fatherhood is exciting and comforting. I am also terrified that I may choose the wrong option, that I may lead down the path that leads to no child, and what to do if I can only have one option, instead of both.

I have had Kafka dreams for a while now. On Friday night I dreamt I was going to hell. Literally. I had to find someone there, there was someone I had to bring back. In the middle of my dream, a rope tied around my waist as I was about to enter the land of monsters and demons, I found in my arms a baby clad only in a diaper. The baby smelt of light and neck wrinkles and baby powder and air. The baby wrapped its arms around my neck and looked into my eyes, saying only this:

"You have to be strong. I am going to be strong, and I'm not going to give up. You can't give up, either."

The words still ring through my head, even if I don't know what they mean.

-H.

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