Yep, I’m one of those first time 40-year-old moms. I’ve never really mentioned it before in a post since I’m still trying to find my voice in that regard. I mean, I have a lot of voices and a lot of perspectives: I’m a former newspaper editor/reporter, a wife, sister, daughter (still in mourning over losing my mom in 2010), photographer, free styling lifestyle commenter, and definitely not domestic goddess.
I am also a Cougar, to use the popular vernacular of the day. I was 34 years old when I married my husband, a mere baby of 22 when we wed on New Year’s Day in 2004. He was and is the one, and even if he was in kindergarten when it was time for my senior prom, I love him more than I can ever say. He is the reason I have all that I have.
So at the tender age of 38, we finally started trying, since I assumed that it wouldn’t be a problem, and hey, even if I did resort to IVF, I would totally do it. Two years later, three failed IVFs later, and we were at a crossroads, both financially and mentally/spiritually/emotionally speaking. One more time, we said. Just one more try. And lo and behold, Annie was born in January 2011.
She was going to be the only one, or so we thought. But at my six month appointment after she appeared, they administered a pregnancy test because my periods were so wonky, and they wanted to check, just in case, although I would have bet all the money in my purse – yeah, that’s right, all $4 – it would be negative. My ob-gyn at the time, who had warned us to use condoms after the first baby was born, came in with his most smug face and announced, “It was positive. Told you!” I do miss his sarcasm, since we’ve now moved away, but he was kind of an ass in retrospect.
Against the specialists’ odds, we had conceived naturally, or “spontaneously” as the doctor would tell me. And lo and behold, Leelou was born in May 2012. If you’re trying to do the math, that’s 15 1/2 months apart. And yes, I am losing my mind most days.
The reason I finally posted this was twofold: 1) I want to be as honest with my readers as possible. I could go on acting as though I’m a 20- or 30-something first time mom, but the reality is that I was 40 when Annie was born, two weeks shy of 41, and 42 when Leelou was born, three months past my birthday; and 2) in trying to find blogs of my cohorts, I’m finding they focus a lot on infertility battles, as they should, or the supposed differences of motherhood that come with being an older first-time mom.
Well, I have an infertility story, but that’s for another day. And I recognize I’m older, but I still feel like a 20-something (more like a 16-year-old, really), and I’m dealing with all the same struggles that all new moms are facing, from how much to feed, why won’t she stop crying?, entertainment for 14 hours a day, discipline decisions, etc.
So here it is. Another layer of who I am, another layer for the blog and a reality check for those who may have been thinking I’m a young, super hip girl (okay, I know nobody was really thinking that). I don’t dwell on my age, but I recognize it gives me a different perspective on life, so if I occasionally meander into those waters, I hope you’ll wade in there with me.