I remember the day I told my obstetrician I might be pregnant with my fifth child. Although he had delivered three of my four children, had consoled me through a miscarriage, and knew my husband and I remained open to life, something about showing up in his office at the ripe old age of 42 with the possibility of yet another pregnancy made me feel like a 14-year-old-girl being sent to the principal’s office.
After all, mothers like myself who become pregnant in our 40’s are inundated with medical, physical, and practical concerns about being “too old to have a newborn.” We undergo increased amounts of testing for fetal development, are generally labeled an “at risk” pregnancy regardless of our actual health, are sometimes accused of being irresponsible parents to the children we already have, and may be laughed at by friends who find it great sport to tally how old we’ll be once the baby reaches college. So as I sat in his office that day, I was consumed with an unhealthy guilt over my supposed age-related inadequacies.
Fortunately, my doctor’s response was one of support.
“I think it’s great,” he kept saying. “You’re in good health. This will be easy. . . . No, you’re not alone–I just delivered one woman’s 8th child.”
Before long, I left his office more confident, excited about my pregnancy, and with joy of giving life finally restored.
The encouragement I received that day–in the midst of a society that tells us older women we must hang up our ovaries—made me reconsider the notion that age is somehow a handicap to a “proper” motherhood.
In fact, now that I’ve officially crossed the Rubicon into what some might consider geriatric parenting with the recent birth of my daughter, I realize that whatever I may lack in physical agility, I make up for in other ways, including an increased gratitude and wisdom.
As a mother with older children, I know first hand how quickly kids grow and develop outside interests and friends–and how quickly I can move from the center of their universe to someone trying to properly navigate my way back inside. Giving life to a new child who relies purely on me in the midst of this realization has helped me appreciate those special and fleeting moments I took for granted the first time or two. Almost magically, the simple opportunity to change my daughter’s diaper, satisfy her appetite, wipe her nose, kiss her cheek, let her gnaw on my chin, or console her cry has become an act of love between us for which I give repeated thanks to God. And I suspect this slowing down to exercise gratefulness for such small moments is better preparing me to appreciate all the small blessings God has in store.
And while there was admittedly an excitement about experiencing birth for the very first time and at a younger age, I am finding an equal amount of excitement comes along with being a little wiser about the vocation of motherhood in general.
As the Word teaches, “[w]isdom is with aged men, With long life is understanding” (Job 12:12). How often I have thought about how I would change my past decisions if I had only known what I know now. While I may not be able to change my past, I do have the benefit of using my earliest experiences in motherhood as a reference to benefit my newest born. At this stage of life, I know all too well many of the traps and temptations that sometimes plagued me as a first-time mother–the second-guessing, the unnecessary keeping up with others, the need to feel in control, or the inability to ask for help. As a result, I feel more confident in my choices and ability to better guide my caboose spiritually and socially on the path God has in store for her.
Yes, being an older mother can feel a bit like a stigma, but in practice, it’s anything but. The truth about being an older mother is that it holds a beauty uniquely its own and uniquely created by God. We just have to be willing to accept it as such.
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