by Jennifer Koludrovic

Created on: April 17, 2008

This is a hard question to answer because people say that I am some sort of "Super Woman" because after every miscarriage I would be trying to conceive within the next month. I am no 'Super Woman', I am just a woman who desperately wanted to have at least 2 children and did anything to make that happen.

I am now 45 with a healthy 5 yo and 2 yo but have been pregnant 10 times. I look at my son and daughter every day and thank god that I NEVER gave up. The joy and pleasure everyday seeing how bright they are and how healthy they are has made believe that the other 8 pregnancies where just not meant to be.

Let me start from the beginning. I was married at 32. Up until I got married I never went on any contraceptive because I was told very early by a doctor that after taking the pill for 10 years straight it can make you infertile, so therefore took the old fashioned approach to sex (hoping that this would guarantee some acknowledgment when it came to getting pregnant).

Once we were married, my husband and I decided that we would start trying for a family when we were settled in our own home, because it would be too hard having a small baby in a rented apartment.

Finally after 2 years of marriage we started building our own home. The week before we were supposed to pour the slab, my favorite Brother-In-Law was killed in a farming accident, and therefore the house was on hold for a little while longer. My dad was a builder and he was going to help with the project. Another disaster after that fell when my In-Laws also tried to help and ended up putting the project back another 6 months.

Finally moving into our home and settling we decided at the age of 37 to try and fall pregnant. You can imagine my ecstasy to know that I fell pregnant straight away. We did the home test to find that it was positive. I was so over the moon because all my life all I wanted to be was like my mum. I knew I would be a good mother and wanted to stay at home and look after the family.

That week I was just about skipping around work. Nobody could wipe that smile off my face. By the weekend the smile turned to anguish because I started spotting. I didn't know what to do. It was a Saturday and not trusting that my usual doctor was working that weekend, and not thinking straight, I immediately made an appointment at a Medical Center, where you just take any doctor you are given.

He of course was quite cold about the whole thing and said that I should go home and rest and come back on Monday if

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