Once upon a time, a woman stood in the empty nursery of her home. It was a high summer evening, her husband and two daughters were off on a bike ride. She could hear the carefree shouts of neighbor children coming through the open windows. And she couldn’t stop herself: Andrew, Andrew she found herself calling out, in the vacant nursery, on this evening that trembled with green breezes and slanting sunlight. The name was one chosen for a son even before college, the name that topped the list for boys whenever she was pregnant. She felt a bit crazy to be standing there calling out for a child who didn’t exist. So she got hold of herself, left the nursery. She had a perfect family–why ask for more. And she wasn’t getting any younger. But the thought kept pumping through her head–you only live once.
Of course the woman was me and the catharsis of that summer night created an even stronger desire to have another child. With some tears, laughter and the dubious argument that our midlife crisis should not be a snappy red convertible but another child, I convinced my husband. Of course, being a numbers guy he pointed out the 50% possibility. No problem. We picked out a name for a girl too.
Amazingly I got my wish and less than 2 years later–Andrew was born. I will always feel there was some nameless force inside me that propelled us forward. In some ways wanting a child and then being blessed with is how it often happens. And this post does emphasize all the positives, though being an RN I schooled myself in the risks of pregnancy over 40 and what that meant–increased chance of miscarriage, fetal anomalies, infertility problems. A friend and I even wrote a book about it, which we never published. But truly the upside of the decision far outweighed the downside. Look at these current stats from the National Center for Health Statistics: in American women ages 40 to 44, birthrates have hit their highest point since 1967. Births have also become increasingly common among women in their late 30s. (these stats are probaby now out of date)
Today, many women wait to have children, because they realize the positive aspects of having a career and thus can insure a strong economic foundation before having a family. But many women like me have forged the pathway for older moms having babies. We made the decision to not care, if when preschool began someone might think the grandmother had showed up, not the mother. The current culture enfolds us and reminds us to fight grey hairs, and keep the body trim and flexible. The latter is easily accomplished when you have to chase after a two-year-old.
Our son’s presence in the family welded all of us together in a new, exciting way. Yes, there were some adjustments. But very quickly his sisters embraced him and eagerly wanted to babysit, feed and play with him. And to stem an argument, they both became his godparents. My elderly aunt on hearing of my pregnancy exclaimed, “He’ll add 20 years to my life.” Amazingly, he did. Of course his grandmothers were thrilled to experience his first word, first step of a grandchild all over again. Children just fill you up and pull you into their world.
Because I was an older mom:
- once my son commented that his oldest sister is the luckiest because in the long run she’ll have more time with me. Of course he knows I won’t be here forever, but I know what he means. And I’m not sure his sister would agree and I’m just not going to ask her!
- he says he wouldn’t trade this older mom even if I could run the rapids like Meryl Streep in THE RIVER WILD
- he taught me about legos and Game Boys, guitar riffs and appreciating music of the 70s 80s and 90s that had passed me by
- I never minded when: I found guitar pics in the dryer; he changed my screen saver to read: I LOVE ANDREW; we had open talks about sex; he refused to part with any remembrance of his childhood (well, maybe I helped a little, but I was flattered that these things meant so much to him and luckily we had the room to store everything)
- he taught me once again, that amazing experience of family–that we all belong to each other
There is no doubt that Andrew’s presence in our lives kept my husband and me young. John became a Boy Scout leader and went on campouts complete with raccoons invading his tent. I did a short stint of rappelling during scout camp, rolled down a hill like I was only nine, and numerous times went sledding and hiking. Final report: no broken bones!!
Then the most amazing thing happened. Andrew was taking a tennis lesson and I’m in the bleachers listening to the thump, thump of the ball while looking at a magazine. But after a while, I got distracted, staring into space. And I heard the name HAVEY. Of course the coach was talking to Andrew, urging him on, saying something like way to go HAVEY. But my skin tingled and my heart increased its rate and I was back on a Chicago park bench with my girlfriends, waiting to hear that word blow across the baseball field or the tennis court. Waiting for the love of my life to show up with his friends.
Now I’ve been a HAVEY most of my life, and when I looked up to see Andrew swinging his racket, that same deep love extended back to him, to my son, to this child of an older mom. Because I know he will inspire my heart, keep me young.
As another older mom wrote: Motherhood is a big tent and it matters little if you step inside at 18 or 40, or somewhere in between. What did matter was my desire to grow and change with this child. To open up to new experiences, to adjust to thought patterns and ideas that might never have presented a challenge had my husband and I not taken up the role of parents again. But it’s all good–it’s all amazing. Because we have stayed young, we have embraced new things–I guess you could say we have thrived under the big tent of parenthood.
10 Responses
I was a first-time mother at 39 and loved it so much I continued to grow my family at 40 and again at 43. I was many things before my children but not myself in full. I worried about the world’s impressions on my politics, beliefs and independence. Through my children’s uniqueness and courage, I’ve learned to be me. Afterall, the three most amazing people I know love me just as I am.
BEAUTIFUL!! I feel so much closeness with all who have responded. I was 42 when I had Andrew. There were people shaking their heads, but I
believed in my longing…and all of it was a gift. Thanks for posting. Hugs to you and yours.
I hear you. Your Andrew was meant to be and I enjoyed reading your story. I became a mother (first and only time) at age 37. In the late 80’s, when I became pregnant, it was considered a high risk pregnancy with constant monitoring, and, as it happened, I did develop some complications (preeclampsia) which complicated things a little. But, overall, I firmly believe that I was a better mother due to my age, even if my energy wasn’t quite that of a 25 year old. There were so many experiences I also had that I never would have had.
As a former L&D RN, yes preeclampsia would complicate things, but you must have had wonderful doctors. I totally
agree with your comment about age helping us be even better mothers. Hugs, Alana, and thanks.
I had my kids at 33 and 36 with no regrets. I was more mature and probably a better mom. I think Andrew was meant to be. What a wonderful blessing for your whole family.
Thanks, Laurie. He was meant to be, and now we are living just Chicago blocks from him and his wife, Amy.
Even in grade school, I decided I wanted a son names Andrew. It took a while….I am blessed.
I am an older mom. Had mu kids in my 40’s. They keep me younger. I think. I’m so exhausted I can’t tell.
Oh I get that, Lauren. It is definitely a balancing act. But when you lie down to sleep, it’s sweetness most of the time.
This is a beautiful story and one we can learn from ……love life with an open mind because life always can show us something new we can grow from.
Thank, Bill And you were right there always, cheering me on. Beth