Not particularly a good one either, in my opinion.  I’ll turn 35 this weekend.

The last birthday I had a problem with was 30.  It was the beginning of the rest of my life, but not in the way I wanted.  While so many of my friends from college were starting families, I was getting divorced.

Five years later, not a whole lot has changed. Most of my college friends have had their second child by now.   I’m still single, unattached, with no viable prospects on the horizon.  As of Sunday, my chances of giving birth to a child with a spina bifida or Down’s syndrome increase dramatically – inversely proportionate to my chances of actually getting pregnant in the first place.  Or meeting someone I’d actually consider getting pregnant with.