Hello, I’m Rachel. I’m 41, single and pregnant.
Taken together, these three elements tend to act as sad little modifiers for each other. “Single” is usually applied to women as though they are a problem to be fixed. “41” is usually past the age when people consider your problem fixable (let’s just say the concerned clucking about when I would get married and have kids ended abruptly at 40). “Pregnant” — well, everyone seems to have ideas about what women ought to be doing with their uteri. Some of you may even feel sorry for me, all alone with no husband to rub my feet. (This is a pregnancy book staple, I am discovering.) I know how it looks: at 41, single and pregnant, I’m a sad, lonely outlier.