The Perils Of Being An Older Mom

When do I get to be me again?

How do you react when your doctor, while trying to explain the risks of pregnancy, puts them all in one category under the umbrella of “mature maternal age?”

We’re talking about the usual complications like the risk of high blood pressure, diabetes, or the risk of genetic problems. What about the fact that when your kids are finally entering adulthood, you’ll be entering your senior years with all the associated rights and privileges?

I had three children at the tail end of my reproductive life. I suffered no complications, brought them into this world the old-fashioned way, and they are all physically fine.

Not me, though. I’m a little more tired than I used to be and can’t do as much due to minor aches and pains, but none of that is truly earth-shattering.

More problematic is that I find myself mentally tired at a time when my kids need me most. It’s this fact that I wish I had prepared for a little more.

For example, last night my son once again came to talk at the end of the day. He’s broken up with his girlfriend and feeling quite tattered. I’m his go-to.

It had been a long day and I was tired. I’m no longer any good after 10 pm. My aging brain needs to rest.

The monsters come out to play at night, it seems. Maybe it’s the setting sun, or the end of something once more. I know that I feel things more acutely after dark and it appears that my kids do too. I need to be on my game.

So, I listened, gave him hugs and reassurances that life wouldn’t always be this way, and hoped that that’s all he needed from me.

Then there’s this reality — what do you do when your kid is pouring his heart out and you suddenly need to pee? And, I mean a pee you can’t hold because you’ve had three kids so your insides are scrambled and if you don’t get up now, it will be everywhere. What do you say ? Hold that thought?

Then, too, is the worry about living long enough to see my children out on their own. As it is, we have at least two more years before all of our kids finish college. Hopefully, they will be able to find gainful employment after that. But how long will it really take? How old will I be?

My friends and I talked about this over lunch recently. A surprising number of us are older parents of young adult children trying to find their way in a world we don’t recognize. How can we help them if we can’t understand what they are going through? We didn’t live with social media or COVID during high school. We simply have no frame of reference.

Upon a friend’s recommendation, I’ve been watching the series Girls, about a young woman played by Lena Dunham who’s parents are frustrated with her efforts to launch her career. In short, they are sick of paying her expenses while she tries to get her act together.

At one point, the mother points out that now that she’s older, she’d like to be relaxing at a lake house, but she’s still stuck being a mother. And, although I think her saying that is a little rude, I can relate.

I think that we all wish for more free time and less worry in our senior years. A return to self, if you will. Having children later in life delays this. And, now I feel guilty for even bringing it up.

I remember being truly pissed off all those years ago when my doctor referred to my condition as a geriatric pregnancy. Turns out, though, he was right.

Yet, I don’t regret having them so late. I didn’t meet their dad until well into my thirties and it is what it is. I don’t know what I’d do without them now. I’m looking forward to Christmas when my oldest comes home and we can all be in the same house again.

It’s amazing how much garbage life can throw at you with respect to your children. For now, I will continue to lean on my friends for support, take care of my own health, keep things simple, and keep my fingers crossed. I’m also open to suggestions. Anyone else with these issues want to chime in?