At least I have been here before, albeit not for more than a decade. But for my my partner of two-and-a-half years it will all be brand new, as he prepares to become a first-time dad. Am I completely mad, foolhardy and selfish to even be considering this at my age?
Yet, it seems that I am in strong Gap Mothering company.
The designer Pearl Lowe was 19 when she had her daughter Daisy and went on to have three more children with her husband, Danny Goffey - giving birth to their youngest when she was 41.
Uma Thurman had her third child ages 42, when her older two were already 16 and 12.
Actress Jennifer Connelly had her first son, Kai, when she was 27, then had two more in her late 30s and early 40s with husband Paul Bettany.
What's more, that statistics back me up. For the first time since World War 2, more women are having babies in their 40s and 50s in the UK than those under 20. The rate of babies born to women aged 45 and over in England is up by more than a third in just six years.
Many of them, like me, already have children in their teens, and are having a second bite at the parenting cherry after the breakdown of a previous long-term relationship and the start of a shiny new one.
Thanks to better fertility treatment and medical care, what might once have been impossible for women whose biological shelf-life was drummed into us from primary school age (while our male classmates knew they could probably still procreate into their 80s), is now not only possible but increasingly common.
Since going public on social media about my pregnancy, I have had a deluge of correspondence from women who are already Gap Mothering, and to whom it has brought huge happiness.
Women who did the kids thing young, hit their middle years, had a total change of life circumstances and then started a new family. A whole community of women with teenagers and infants under one roof. Women who never planned to do this, but have loved every single minute.
Let's not pretend it's easy, though; just getting pregnant in my 40s was something I worried about a lot, what with my ovaries being officially classed as geriatric and my fertility dropping faster than my cleavage. And that's before you consider the chances of it being a more complicated pregnancy (my body already being shattered from two decades of parenting and working), not to mention having to pack my Zimmer frame into my hospital bag.
Then there was the small matter of having to tell three teenagers, who had recently lived through their parents' break-up, that they were about to have a new sibling. I had no idea how they would react - especially when I had to run out of my 14-year-old's parents' evening to throw up.
I was also worried about my own strength. In my 20s I had none of the responsibilities, stresses or fears that I have now. What if I was too old to deal with the exhaustion? Too exhausted to deal with the day-to-day stresses of having a baby? Too stressed to deal with anything else?
Was I about to abandoned my long-yearned-for independence and freedom, having just got it back after 20 years? Would my sex life finally be discarded into a skip, along with my self confidence, social life and mental wellbeing? In short, where I had no worries at all when I had children the first time around, now I worried almost constantly. About absolutely everything.
But perhaps greatest difference of all, is how much the world has changed since I last had children. Back then there was no social media. No Facebook, Twitter or Instagram. No Whatsapp, Netflix or online news feeds. And no smartphones to disturb us 24/7. If you sent a text it took an hour to write, and in all likelihood it was never received. If you even got a response, it was usually a week late.
This digital blackout created a blissful sense of presence, and calm. No dinner-time distractions from buzzing phones, viral clips of cats while you were trying to change a nappy, emails coming in halfway through bath time, hundreds of notifications to read and respond to. I was there with my children. Fully.
How we will be able to recreate that feeling of peace and calm for our new baby is something that weighs heavily on my mind. If my phone lights up, will I really ignore it – or ignore my child until I've looked at it? Will my partner be Whatsapping a friend, or talking to our baby, pointing out trees and ducks in the local park? Will they grow up measuring their worth in follower numbers and likes? I don't know. I can't know, until it happens.
What I do know is that I'm incredibly lucky to have this chance to have another baby. A last chance at motherhood.
Having a child with my new life-partner, who, at 32, is 11 years younger than me and has no living parents, was hugely important to us both. I told him on day one that I would do everything I could to give us a chance at becoming parents together.
So here I am, poised at the start of a new year; a new life.
