I was talking on the phone to Mom the other night and we mentioned my upcoming birthday. I mentioned I was turning 41. She corrected me and told me that no… I was turning 42. After some conversation it became apparent that I was indeed turning 42 on my next birthday. Wow! I actually felt sorrow that I had just lost a year of my life. For me 42 is a fairly significant year. It was the year that would signify the end of my childbearing years. If I didn’t have a child by 42, I wouldn’t have a child. I am not 100% sure how I feel about this as I have been the fence about children for most of my adult life. I felt some loss to be sure but not so much loss that it made it clear that I had missed out on something that I desperately wanted.