Being an “Older” Mom
I was born in December of 1972. I just turned 46 and I am the “older mom” of a 7 and 11 year old. Now you know how old I am. Write it down if you want to remember, because you’ll never again see me reveal my age.
Why?
Because although I have no control over it, I am annoyed about my age, and have been since I turned 40 a few years ago. In my mind, I don’t feel 46, though some days my body definitely feels 46. I’ve got the aches and pains that show up in one’s 40’s and I am keenly aware that, unfortunately, it’s just the beginning of the decline that typically comes with age (which I intend to fight ‘til the bitter end).
Additionally, if we do basic math and round up… I’m pretty much 50 years old. What? That is half a century. Now I’m even more annoyed about my age. Not that there’s anything wrong with being 50, of course… I’m just not ready to be there yet.
It took me a long time to find my “Prince Charming.” After we both finished college, we got married in 2005 when I was 32. I was 34 when we got pregnant and I received the glorious label of “Advanced Maternal Age” from my OB/GYN.
After our son was born, I still worked full-time and telecommuted from home. At that time, we needed to be a double-income household and so I was thankful for my flexible employers who allowed me to work from home. I joined a playdate group with the hopes of making friends, but I was too busy with work to attend most of the events, and when I did, I realized that nobody else was in my position of working full-time. They were mostly younger moms who didn’t have the dual responsibility of full-time employment and stay-at-home-mom. They were very nice, but I didn’t feel I could relate to most of them because I was so much older and had a career.
I had just turned 39 when we had our second child in 2012 and I was once again labeled with “Advanced Maternal Age.” I was more closely monitored throughout my second pregnancy, and with each appointment, I was reminded by somebody about how old I was. When I was 42, my husband and I decided we’d like a third child, so I asked my OB/GYN about getting pregnant again. He had a serious talk about the realities of being pregnant at my “advanced age,” and the concerns about a child born to an older mom.
I was frustrated with his conclusion – and society’s conclusion – that I was too old to do something.
It stung. I felt it was a slap in the face to my potential as a woman… my potential as a person.
I joined a large, local MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group and learned I was older than ALL the other moms in the group. When I looked at the ages of the youngest moms, I realized I was old enough to be their mom, and therefore, old enough to be the (young) grandmother of their children. That fact was a real eye opener. I loved this group of women and they had no idea how old I was, but I knew, and I felt, well… different.
I’ve spent many years pondering how I personally feel about being an older mom.
Here is my own list of “Pros and Cons”– if you have your own mental list, it will obviously be different. Let’s start with the “Cons”:
- Fear of leaving my children motherless.
- I think, as moms, we all worry to some extent about something happening to us which would leave our children without a mother. As an older mom, I’m increasingly concerned about such a situation, especially after an ER visit in 2017 that opened my eyes to a chronic disease I have. For how long will I have good health? I hope and pray I stay healthy and functional until both of my kids graduate from high school (at least).
- Lack of adventure. I once had my sights on thrilling activities such as sky diving, bungee jumping, and skiing. Now, I am fully aware of the risks of these activities and wouldn’t dare try them at this point. I am so boring and hesitant now at a time when I want my children to be adventurous! I cannot lead by example with this one.
- Fatigue. Sometimes {a lot of times} I’m just plain exhausted and don’t feel like being energetic with my kids.
- Envy. When I’m around younger moms, I can’t help but be envious of their wrinkle-free faces, those with a slender post-baby body (which I never had anyway), and their boundless energy. I’m also envious of their potential. They have so many awesome years ahead of them, and so many fantastic things they can do! If they want to have another baby, a doctor won’t discourage them solely based on their age.
- Biting my tongue. I can’t tell you how many times I want to tell a younger mom, “Back when I was your age…” or how frequently I want to give my advice based on my years of life experience. But I know doing so would be annoying, so I refrain.
Of course, being an older mom has some perks, too. For example:
- I am secure in who I am. Any youthful insecurities I had throughout my 20s are long gone. I am confident in who I am, and if I perceive a person doesn’t like me, I don’t really care. Also, I no longer feel like I need to impress anybody. I am who I am, take me or leave me.
- No drama mama. In my twenties, I had plenty of drama in my life, thank you very much. I don’t need it in my 40s and beyond. If I see drama coming, I turn and go the other way.
- No FOMO (Fear of missing out). Since I was nearly 35 when I had my first child, I lived a lot of life before I became a mom: I was part of the social/club scene, I did the college thing and earned three degrees; I had a 16+ year career; I got to travel around the U.S. quite a bit. I’ve “done it all,” and I’m good.
- Financial security. My family is on a path to becoming debt free. We are able to exist as a single income family – in California – and for that I am very grateful. In my younger years, I was (unfortunately) building debt, not conquering debt.
Recently a friend, who is a certified personal trainer, gave a presentation on having a healthy lifestyle. She said something that really stuck with me, “I want to be as healthy for my family as long as possible.” Yes! That is what I want, too. So I decided to take control of my life and join her “Strong Mom Bootcamp.” I want to be as proactive as possible, and keep myself fit and healthy for as long as I can.
My family deserves that commitment.
I accept that I will continue aging and I will never have the figure of a supermodel. I accept that my wrinkles will increase with time and my natural hair color will continue to get more and more gray as the years go by (thank you, genetics, for making my hair turn gray prematurely, and thank you to my awesome hair stylist for covering up the gray).
Most importantly: although being 46 annoys me, I am also very grateful I have made it this far in life – because, sadly, some people don’t.
But I’m still going to be forever envious of the young moms with wrinkle free faces!
