Things You Think About When You Can’t Walk

Two days after moving into our new apartment I injured my foot, twice, over two days, and have been sat on my arse for the last three weeks waiting for the swelling, bruising and pain to subside.

Essential items still boxed; piano and sofa!

I'm still working through what the universe was trying to tell me. First from the blunt trauma, then the fracture in a totally unrelated event the following day. Was it saying I needed to slow down and put my feet up? Too obvious. Was I meant to relinquish some control over the moving-in process? Probably.

Am I neglecting something, or someone, in my life? That one’s been weighing heavily.

Being immobile is quite a humbling experience. Having people wait on me hand and foot was a novelty, for about 48 hours. After that, it’s been frustrating and inconvenient, especially when there are boxes to unpack and a new home to furnish. Not to mention the sea view and beach promenade a stone's throw from my new front door… that I can’t yet enjoy.

View for the last 3 weeks

Sitting around with too much time on your hands is a bit risky. You begin to think about everything... all the admin you're behind on, the plans you've been putting off, the outstanding task list. The things that matter and the things that don’t. It's been a period of reflection; on the past five years, and what the next few might hold.

One unexpected moment came when I received a lovely message from an old friend. We caught up, shared life updates, and somewhere in that meandering conversation, we both landed on the same thought: we wish we’d had more babies.

So here I am, saying it publicly: I wish I’d had more children!

It’s not something I hear said out loud very often. Maybe because it feels too vulnerable, or too final. Maybe because it stings a little. And yes, I’m reminded now and then that I won’t be having any more. That knowledge comes with a quiet kind of grief. I suppose it’s normal, especially for a woman of a certain age, but it still catches me off guard.

If I could write a note to my younger self, it would be simple:

Start a family younger.

Have as many as you can.

Stop worrying about everything else.

No, your career is not more important.

No, you can’t have it all.

No, you’ll never have enough money.

Yes, a safe and stable home is essential.

Yes, family support is important.

Yes, you will get enough sleep, eventually.

Those early days

Life, death, and birth - it’s a continuous cycle. But I suspect many in the younger generation see having children as optional, even avoidable. And I don’t think that’s right. It’s not just something to opt into if conditions are perfect. It’s part of being human, one of the most fundamental experiences we can have.

Now, let me be clear: I haven’t forgotten the women who have struggled to get pregnant, stay pregnant, or carry children of their own. I’ve stood beside friends through those heartbreaks. And while the rise in infertility is a whole other topic (one I believe runs deep and dark), I’ll leave it at this: it’s real, and it’s tragic.

Personally, I’ve been pregnant four times, but only brought one child into the world. A beautiful girl who is, of course, the apple of my eye. She brings me joy, love and laughter, and teaches me patience and perspective. For her, I am eternally grateful. And for my marvellous husband, who gave me the greatest gift of my life, I’m thankful every single day.

So yes, I’m currently stuck indoors with my foot in the air, watching the beach from the window and thinking far too much. But sometimes you need to be forced to stop, even uncomfortably, to take stock of what’s behind you, and what’s still to come. Not in a sentimental way, just in a practical, human one.

Here’s to getting back on my feet soon. Preferably barefoot on that sand.