I read the other day that, biologically, the chance of a woman my age conceiving naturally is a single-digit figure.

Fecundity declines with age, in fact from the time a woman hits 30. When she approaches her 40s, the probability of becoming pregnant starts plummeting to zero.

This is bad news because I've come to realise - to my horror - that I'm going through what will probably be, in my lifetime, the last burst of feeling broody.

For a range of reasons over the last half year, I've been wondering what it is like to be a mother and whether the decision not to become one is something I'll come to rue in my impending middle age (I refuse to think that I'm there already - oh no I'm not, surely I can't be).

It started last year when I was relating to a friend some adorable antic of my nephew, and he said: 'Looks like you are the type that will make a good mum.'

It was just a throwaway comment from him, nothing more, but it got me feeling puffed up and pleased and set me thinking.

He was right. I would have made a great mum.

I get along well with kids, I like their company, I give them respect and they tend to like me. I'm sure I would never be one of those embarrassingly loud, naggy mums creating a scene at malls, or one of those mothers who stress out their kids over schoolwork and such.

I started having visions of myself as a yummy mummy - well-dressed, great hair, not an inch of post-natal fat on me, striding in four-inch heels with two cute, well-mannered, low-maintenance kids in tow, me speaking to them in soft tones and us making mature conversation. (Okay, I've been looking at too many photos of Victoria Beckham.)

Another reason for my broodiness must be the baby boom in my office. Women around me have been popping babies like nobody's business - I know of at least six women who gave birth in the last year - and they make it seem so easy.

They all looked great during their pregnancy (glowing skin, shiny hair and cute baby bumps, nothing huge and gross) and returned from maternity leave looking even more svelte, beautiful and fulfilled than ever. If they weren't getting enough sleep because of fretful baby feeds, it sure wasn't showing.

Better still were the babies they brought to the newsroom for a visit. Simply adorable. I looked on wistfully.

Then came news from my sister in the United States that she was coming to visit with her family.

As you know, I'm fond of my niece and nephew. The thought that I'll be able to entertain them on home ground, as opposed to when I'm over at their place and looking like a bedraggled tourist, triggered off more yummy-mummy fantasies.

I began planning the restaurants we could go to and places we could visit, me play-acting the role of a delicious yummy mummy with the kids hanging onto me.

It's strange how life can come full circle.

Like most women, I've gone through stages of feeling broody and other periods when the thought of motherhood horrified me.

I faced my biggest bout of wanting to be a mother when I was in my mid-20s. Even the idea of doing it alone - being a single mother since there wasn't a suitable partner available then - was something I considered seriously.

Of course, it didn't happen and it wouldn't have worked out in any case. Much as I thought I could handle motherhood at that age, I was too immature, selfish and had not seen enough of the world. I would not have been in a position to make wise parental decisions.

In my 30s, I abandoned the idea of motherhood and ever being one of 'them'. I psyched myself to believe that a single, carefree life focused on career and having a good time was the way to go. No responsibilities, no pressure, no stress. I had just me to take care of. The freedom to do as I please and to be as self-absorbed as I wish felt good.

Now that I'm in my 40s, it is ironic how motherhood has come back to haunt me one last time.

Yes, I'm indeed at a stage where I could make a good mum. Financially I'm okay, I don't feel I need to do crazy things to prove myself in my career anymore, I'm at peace with myself (well, most of the time) and a lot less demanding of the people around me.

There also aren't that many new experiences I'm looking for because, frankly, how much travelling, shopping and going to spas can a woman take?

I hanker for some anchor in my life and we all know that, more than anything else, children provide you with that. Parenthood, of course, goes beyond superficial yummy-mummy yearnings, and to be responsible for another human being's life is the ultimate meaningful role a person can play.

But it's too late.

You can't fight biology.

But, oh well, too bad.

I've long learnt that you can't get everything you want in life, and so you must make the best of what you can get.

And if you don't hit the jackpot but are given a consolation prize, count yourself lucky, grab it and treasure it because that's as good as it will ever get.

So for me, my niece and nephew are a consolation prize.

They're in town for five weeks and in the two days since they arrived last Thursday, my life has changed, although not quite in the way I had envisioned.

The house has been turned upside down and the mess is appalling. There's chatter in the house non-stop. I've had to put up with numerous complaints about how Singapore is 'so hot' and sudden inexplicable bouts of stomach ache.

I cannot understand why they must kick the back of my car seat when I'm driving. I squirm when they sprawl on my bed in their dirty clothes, and shouldn't they be washing their hands more often?

I worry constantly that I'm feeding them the wrong things because they've so many allergies.

I've to wait for them to finish using the bathroom before I can use it. I've not been able to sign on to the computer and work from home because it's in the room they are sleeping in. Besides, they are always wanting to 'play' with me.

I'm happy.

This article was first published in The Sunday Times on May 4, 2008.