The Real "Problem" with Older Moms

It is such a problem being an older mom! Having babies after age 35 sucks. If I could give you a piece of advice, it would simply be this: don't do it! Here are reasons why~

1. Older moms are career obsessed. Why would any child want to have a positive female role model raising them? Smarts, drive, success, passion for something you love? Who wants to learn all those things by example?

2. Older moms have lots of money. Too much money, in fact, after so many childless working years. They might tend to spoil their children with all this extra money they have lying around.

3. They are too old and stiff to play on the floor with their kids. Everyone knows that younger moms make better playmates.

4. They are super uncool and so out of touch with current media and trends. You know what they said in the 1960s: "Don't trust anyone over 30!" That still applies today.

5. Not everyone can live in New York. It's true. Moms in New York are actually considered young if they are under 40, according to my friend Anna of Random Handprints. If you are planning on being an older mom, you should move to New York so you can feel young.

Okay, okay, I'm being facetious here, and I actually can't think of any other ridiculous reasons not to have a baby in your 30's and 40's.

But England can. There is a new ad campaign making a buzz today. It is a picture of a 40-something reporter dressed to look like a 70 year old pregnant mom. Take a look.

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The purpose of this ad is to make women consider having babies at a younger age. Excuse me, what? Consider it?

I considered it a lot in my twenties and thirties. I considered it so much that it made my uterus hurt. I wanted nothing more than to be a mom. If I could have planned it the way I really wanted it, I would have been married at age 24 and popping out babies by age 25.

But that's not exactly the way it worked out for me. Or millions of other women for that matter.

I am sure that there are women who purposely delay having babies so they can build a career, make money, and feel ready. Nothing wrong with that. If everyone would wait until they are ready to have a baby, we would have a lot less issues in health care, in education, and in society in general.

On one hand, I can see the purpose of this ad. The older parents are when they conceive, the more problems they tend to have - fertility issues, miscarriages, still births, children born with birth defects, Down Syndrome, and the higher likelihood of an Autism diagnosis down the road - among other issues - all of which potentially drive up health care and education costs for the public.

From a short conversation on my Facebook page, it's clear that many women simply didn't have the luck of the draw, so to speak, to plan when they had their babies. I know I didn't. I married Hubby when we were 31, and we experienced fertility issues. I didn't plan on ever having a baby over the age of 40, but I was blessed with one.

The harder having a baby is when you're older, some would say you appreciate it more, you are more ready for the challenges of becoming a parent. Do I worry about not being around for my sons' graduations and weddings and babies? Absolutely. But there's not much I can do about that other than take care of myself and hope I'm healthy in 20 years.

Do I think older moms are better than younger moms? Depends on the person, really. My twenty year old hairdresser is probably one of the best moms I've ever talked to, confident and secure and doing everything she can for her baby.

I've known women who have gotten pregnant out of wedlock and given up their babies. I've known women who have had abortions. I've known moms who married and had babies in their early twenties, and I've known moms who have had their first baby at age 42.

And do you know what the problem is with all of these moms, not just the older ones? We allow society to make us feel guilty for our choices, whether they are ones we have consciously made or ones that were made for us by default.

Being older or younger.

Natural childbirth or drug assisted.

Breast or bottle feeding.

Co-sleeping or crying it out.

Potty training earlier or later.

Cloth or disposable diapers.

Private or public school.

Sports or academics.

And the list just goes on and on and on.

We all do the best we can. Sometimes we have all the information and sometimes we go with our gut. Sometimes we still get it wrong and sometimes we find success.

This ad didn't bother me at all. I didn't purposely choose to be an older mom. And yes, I faced infertility, miscarriages, and medical conditions with my children.

But I'm handling it, and I have the good fortune to have a partner who is handling with me.

One comment that came up over and over on the Facebook discussion was that the moms wouldn't trade all they'd been through - the loss, the problems, the pain and heartbreak that sometimes comes with being an older mom. The bottom line is that most moms see their children as blessings no matter their age or abilities or how much it took for us to get them, whether we birthed them, adopted them, or foster them.

If this ad was meant to "guilt" women into anything, I say, don't let it. Don't let guilt be a problem for moms of any age.

I think we're all doing just fine. Don't you?

So Says the Sayer

Okay, so I admit that I have been to a fortune teller.  Maybe I believe, just a little bit, that maybe some people have that "sixth sense" to see into the future or to peer into a person's past.  I've always been a bit intrigued, so when I saw my opportunity to speak to a fortune teller, I took it.

There was just one question I wanted to ask...Would I ever get married?  I was in my late 20's with no prospects...I thought asking the question couldn't hurt.

I got my answer.  "Yes," she told me quickly, followed by, "and you'll have three kids. You'll be fine."

I walked away...pissed off!  I did not ask her how many kids I would have!  I already knew how many kids I was going to have!  I was going to have at least four - that was the plan!  Who was she to tell me I was only going to have three kids?!  Of course she was going to tell me I'd get married, but was three just a number she pulled out of the air?

After I got married and started trying for all these children, the fortune teller's words always haunted me.  As we suffered infertility and miscarriages, I wondered if maybe she did know something after all.

After Knox was born, and we had our second miscarriage, I figured that we were done.  After all, he was probably just a fluke after the fertility treatments anyway.  But, nonetheless, I wanted that fourth baby.

And when we welcomed Lil C, I knew that I had proved that fortune teller wrong!

Until Joey died from cancer, that is... Oh crap, maybe she was right!

Then, something else that she had said began to haunt me. "You'll be fine."

Wait a minute...had she said, "You'll be fine." or "You'll be fine."?  I couldn't remember on which word she had placed the emphasis.

Over the years, especially the last three, the emphasis in my head was decidedly placed on the "you'll" part of the sentence.  In fact, every time I think about it, the emphasis is more...well, emphasized.

"YOU'LL be fine, but no one else in your family will be." Read: "YOU will be okay, but your family members will suffer illness and death."

After Joey died, and I turned 40, we were done with kids.  We only had three.  So there it was...until Baby E was born.

But how could that be?  We weren't trying for him.  So what is going to happen now?  Who is going to leave my family now?  Which of my sons will be the next to get sick or get into some freak accident?

This is what learning my fortune has made me think.  In the past month, I have had several mini panic attacks mostly centered around Baby E.  I get this overwhelming feeling that something is going to happen to him, or something will be wrong with him.

I tell myself I'm just being silly.  I have never worried this much with the other boys; no more than any other normal, sane new mom.

But I'm not really just another normal, sane new mom, am I?

I wonder if maybe these paranoid feelings come from the fact that I haven't taken my Lexapro in several weeks.  I'm not purposely trying to not take it; I just keep forgetting (heck, I'm lucky if I can remember to put on deodorant most days!).

And I wonder too - well mostly - if it isn't because of what happened to Joey.  I'm always and forever going to be more paranoid that something will happen to one of my children because of Joey.  It certainly doesn't help that Baby E is an extremely fussy and high maintenance baby, much like Joey was.  So I wonder, "could Baby E have some underlying illness, too?"

I can't allow myself to be haunted by the words of some woman who showed up to a convention center and charged money to tell people what they wanted to hear (and some stuff they didn't).

That doesn't mean I'm going to forget about it.

But I'm going to try not to obsess about it.  I might miss something good if I do...

Pregnant at 40~It's Not So Bad...Is It?

Pregnant at 40 (well, actually 41, but I've decided I'm sticking at 40) was something I never planned to be. Since I didn't get married until I was 31 and I wanted four children, my plan was to have them at 32, 34, 36, and 38, well before what I considered to be the scary age of 40.

Scary for a lot of reasons. Foremost, there's the obvious chromosomal abnormality risk. At age 40, the risk of having a baby with Down syndrome is 1 in 110 (mine was listed as 1 in 71). My risk of having a baby with other chromosomal abnormalities, such as Trisomy 13 and 18 was listed as 1 in 135. Women in their forties are twice as likely as women in their twenties to develop problems such as high blood pressure and gestational diabetes. In fact, children of older mothers are themselves at increased risk for type 1 diabetes and high blood pressure. There's a higher incidence of placental problems and birth complications. Babies born to older mothers are more likely to be premature, have low birth weight or even be stillborn. The dad's advanced age can have an effect on genetics as well and carries a higher risk for some disorders such as autism and schizophrenia.

Yikes!

But, I had it licked! I had my four babies well before I was 40. I got two for the price of...well, apparently a really nice fishing boat, according to Hubby. Then another unplanned one right away. And then another one that actually worked out according to plan! And I was only 37!  I even had time for another one!!!

Funny story . . . Hubby gave me a beautiful Mother's ring after Baby #4. My darling Joey proudly handed it to me while I was holding Lil' C in the hospital. Instead of gushing over it and saying thank you I said, "Does this mean we're done?!" Hubby and I apparently had different ideas.  Then Joey's illness came and derailed any plans I had for another baby. 

Just as I had begun to come to terms with the "baby-making" phase of my life being over, I found myself p.g. again. And here I am, about to have a baby in three weeks. And yes, I am 41. And yes, I am scared.

For so many reasons...

When I learned I was pregnant, I honestly just assumed I'd have a miscarriage. I have had three in the past and after all, the rate of miscarriage for the 40-44 year-old age group is 34% (versus 10% for a woman in her twenties). But, early ultrasounds showed a strong heartbeat and a cute little fetus.

My thoughts then immediately turned to Down syndrome. I would be 41 when I delivered, the same age as my sister-in-law when she had her son, who was born with DS. Seeing their struggles with him, not knowing if he would even make it through some of his initial surgeries, and knowing what we had just been through battling cancer with Joey, it terrified me.  I didn't feel strong enough to handle that. We chose not to undergo amniocentesis - the only definitive diagnosis - because the risk of miscarriage from the procedure is one in 300. I would feel horrible if I was that one and miscarried a child just because I had to find out if he had a condition that neither potentially threatened his life nor mine, nor would I abort him if I found out that he did in fact have Down syndrome.

I do have gestational diabetes for the second time. And unlike the first time, I'm having trouble controlling it by simple dietary changes. I am on medication to stabilize my blood sugar; but in spite of that there's a lot of fluid around the baby, and he keeps growing larger! That fact knocks out the potential low birth weight, but the birth complications factor back in. I had twins with no c-section - I don't want one now!!

My doctor did discuss with me the potential risk of still birth which scares the HELL out of me, and of course I worry that I will pass diabetes on to this baby. Or that he will have autism.  Or he will have Down syndrome. And don't even get me started on the cancer thing!

Oh, and then there's the weight thing.  I have only gained 20 pounds, not bad but I did have an extra ten pounds on me when I got pregnant (mourning weight). So not only do I have baby weight to lose, I have that extra ten pounds, and I'm over 40.

The fact is, I never worried all that much with my other pregnancies - well, maybe more with my twins than the other two. But I always had that sixth sense that everything would be okay. As I waddle my way toward my due date, I don't have that sense with this baby. I have quite the opposite.  From the very beginning of this pregnancy I have been waiting for something to be wrong.  Just because I think there has to be.

BUT . . . initial tests - neck measurements, blood tests, ultrasounds - each lowered the risk the baby had for Down syndrome to about 1%, or the same as a woman in her twenties. My doctor assures me that she does not see any of the telltale characteristics of a baby with a chromosomal abnormality. The fact that he is a little bigger is a good sign, too. 

Also, the baby is a kicker! None of my other boys really kicked. They just squirmed around a lot.  This one kicks and kicks hard! And I love it! It's somehow reassuring. I treasure every movement.

I also have a wonderful support system in my friends. By the time I finally got pregnant with my twins, I had pretty much isolated myself from everyone, being so distraught over the whole infertility thing. Many of my high school and college friends lived out of town anyway. With my second pregnancy, I was on Long Island with only one close friend; and with my third, I was back home, but feeling isolated through no fault of my own.

Admittedly, I have reconnected with a lot of people through Facebook, and Joey's cancer journey certainly brought people - new friends and old - out of the woodwork. But because my boys are in school now and in activities, I am out and about more and seeing people and connecting every day. I have received nothing but well wishes, love, and encouragement. I even had a shower thrown in my honor despite the fact that this is my fifth boy. And I won't lie when I say I can't hear, "You are the cutest pregnant lady," enough!

Sure, I had plans to start a second career, get more involved in the boys' schools, maybe train for a race, or at least get in the best shape of my life. Sure by the time this kid graduates from college I will be well into my sixties and looking more like his grandmother than his mother, and I may not even live to see his wedding or the birth of his kids.

 But I need to relax, because worries or no worries, bad or not, I'm having a baby in three weeks and two days!!!!  And as far as I'm concerned, that's never a bad thing.  :)

Photo by Unsplash

Life is What Happens

...while you're busy making other plans.

Ever since I was young, one of my biggest plans was to meet my prince, fall madly in love and marry, then have at least half a dozen babies.  I'd have my own Brady Bunch, complete with a set of boy/girl twins.  We'd all live happily in a big house, get along great, and enjoy huge family holidays with lots of grandkids and pets.

Well, some of that went according to plan...

It took me about 28 years to finally meet the frog that would be my prince.  I say frog, not as an insult, but my prince was disguised as someone I had known since second grade.  We married at age 31, and after some debate over how long we would wait until we started "trying," we realized that starting our "bunch" was not going to be a piece of cake.  Fourteen months, one miscarriage, and two rounds of Clomid later, we found ourselves seeking the help of a fertility doctor.  My plan was not moving along accordingly, so I found someone to help it along.

Four months later, we were pregnant with twins...two boys.  I was so thrilled to finally be pregnant!  I couldn't wait to buy maternity clothes and have baby showers and listen to friends and strangers in stores gush about my pregnancy.

That plan changed, too.  At twenty weeks, I found out I was in preterm labor and would have to spend the remainder of my pregnancy on bed rest.

Oh, and there was something wrong with one of the babies, too.

After fourteen and a half weeks sitting virtually alone in my house (thankfully not the hospital), our twins were born three hours and two minutes apart (so not in the plan either!).  Baby "B," Slim, had a bilateral cleft lip and palate, that, while a challenge initially and something we will be dealing with the majority of his life, proved to be totally fixable and certainly not life-threatening.

My next plan included play dates with my friends and Gymboree classes and Kindermusik.

Then Hubby threw a wrench in that one by deciding it would be in his best interest to transfer residency programs and move us to New York.  The babies were seven months old.  It scared me on so many levels that went far beyond 9/11.

We were to be there only two years, and that part went as planned.  I thought, even though two years was a long time to wait to have another baby (I had to get my half dozen and I was 34 and infertile after all), we would try again at the end of the residency and return home pregnant.

And then, surprise!  I got pregnant with another boy when the twins were eleven months old!  So there I was in New York with three babies under the age of two, "schlepping" them all over Long Island to Slim's plastic surgeon and ENT appointments.

We returned home to the Midwest after our two years out East, bought a beautiful home, had another miscarriage, and added another baby boy to our bunch.  We were 37 with four little boys under the age of four. Hubby was done; I was not.

Then in April of 2009, something happened that no one ever has in her plans.  One of our precious sons was diagnosed with a terminal illness.

Sometime during his 14 month illness, my plan changed, my mind was changed for me.  I would have to accept the fact that I would only have three sons, no daughters, and not six children as I had planned.

I suffered another miscarriage during this time, and while the two others had left me crying for days, I was confused about how I felt about this one.  I desperately wanted another child, but what if having a new baby and our son's illness were too much for us to handle? I accepted it as the door closing on the "baby" chapter in my life and moved on to a new plan.

I gave away and sold almost all of my baby items and maternity clothes as I turned forty last spring.  Forty was always my cut-off age -- no babies after forty.  Too risky, and after what we had been through with our son, I couldn't handle any more heartache.  No, my "babies" were all entering school, I was going to start writing with my extra free time, and Hubby and I were planning a trip to Hawaii for our ten year anniversary.

Well, guess what?

Yes, I am due in June with our fifth child, and I am scared to death.  I am scared it will have a chromosomal abnormality or some other birth defect that I am not equipped to handle. I am scared it will be fine and then one day someone will tell us it has some awful condition just like our other son.  I am scared Hubby and I will never get to Hawaii.  I am scared it will be a girl, and I will have no idea how to raise her.  I am scared it will be another boy!

The "plan" is for my big ultrasound to take place next week.  I know some of these fears will be addressed, and I will be able to plan at least the nursery colors.  What I also know, what I have slowly learned in my forty years is that it's okay to make a plan, but also plan for it not to work out precisely as you'd envisioned.  I can sit here and wish for the daughter I've always wanted or a super good baby that could travel to Hawaii with us anyway, but all I really want is a healthy baby that grows and develops normally.

That's the plan anyway . . .

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