Urban Suburban Mommy

Tag Archives: grandparents

I stole my grandchildren –– from myself

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

I’ve been struggling with this thought for the last few days. It was a really painful epiphany when I realized that I’d stolen my grandchildren from myself.

I had my first son two weeks before my 37th birthday, my second son just shy of my 39th.

“PHEW!” I thought – got in just under the line, done before 40.

I was told I would have trouble conceiving both times. The words “Late Maternal Age” were thrown around at some of all of my doctor visits. The usual scare of possible chromosomal anomalies and age-related pregnancy issues grated my nerves on the reg.

But I was happy to have my kids. I had my cake and would get to eat it too. I enjoyed my 20’s, traveled, lived like a rock star (partied with a few!), established a career, waited for Mr. Right, avoided unplanned pregnancies, and now I was getting to enjoy the spoils of my well-managed life.

It is my happy ending.

It is… but I’ve only just unearthed the consequence I never realized would come with late maternal age –– I don’t get to be Nana Elisa.

I grew up with wonderful grandparents. My Nana Sophie and Gramps Mike spent a lot of time with me. My Nana Helen and Grampsy Leo made me feel like the sun shone for me and me alone. They doted. They pleased. They loved and enjoyed without reservation. I couldn’t spend enough time at their house and I could never get enough of my grandmother’s bottomless pot of chicken soup or the never-empty bowl of apple sauce, which she knew I adored.

My grandkids won’t get this.

But that I won’t get to do this for them is more of my concern. I see my kids missing out on the time with grandparents, mine have both passed away long ago.

I waited until I was ready for kids, I pushed baby-making to the limits, and I thought I’d gotten away with it, scott free.

Yes, I’m a little tired and probably would have kept up with my wild boys a bit better a decade ago, but what I lack in stamina, I make up for in patience, wisdom and a decent salary.

However, while I may see a grandchild in my lifetime if I take care of myself, if my kids wait like I waited, I won’t be Nana Elisa. I won’t be able to run around the city with them, travel with them, take them places.

In my late 70s I can’t see myself being the able-bodied woman doting over children for sleepovers and days of shopping. I won’t be taking them to the farm or on adventures the way my grandparents did for me.

Oh sure, I know that 70 is the new 60 (and 46 is the new 29, I know, I know) but the truth is, I can see where my energy level is right now, and I’m not imagining I’ll have more energy at 76 than I have at 46. My memory isn’t what it used to be. My patience, video game skills and basic acceptance of mermaid hair, unicorn glitter and words like “turnt” are starting to date me.

Even if I see little babes in my 60s and early 70s, by the time they’re teens and capable of doing the fun stuff, I’ll be needing a day pass just to go to their school plays.

I may be fine and full of energy by then – but I may not.

Some of my friends have grown children, some are grandparents. In fact, my mother-in-law has great grandchildren that are older than our kids. My husband’s sister was a grandmother before we even got started.

I didn’t realize I’d love having kids so much. I didn’t realize it would be my most favourite part of life. I put off a family because I “wasn’t ready,” and “I needed ‘me’ time” before settling down. I still think I made the right decision, and that my life has rolled out perfectly, but I lament that one thing…

The grandchildren.

The thing I never thought of as I was figuring it all out and putting off having kids.

The grandparent situation

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .
the grandparent siguation - nana helen and grampsy leo

My kids have grandparents, but they don’t have “grandparents.”

When I was a kid, my Nana Helen and Grampsy Leo would dote over me. They let me sleep over pretty much every weekend. They indulged me when I had special occasions. They were the ones I wanted when I had a problem, a secret or just needed comfort. My Nana Helen always had a bottomless pot of chicken soup on the stove and a vat of homemade applesauce in the fridge, and my grandfather would wake up at dawn to go to the bagel shop and bring home a dozen while they were still warm.

the grandparent siguation - nana helen and grampsy leo

My parents were 23 and 24 when they had me. My grandparents were about 55 when I was born. They loved having me – us, all of their grandchildren – and spent a lot of time with us.

My own mother really wanted to be a grandmother. She was always asked when I would have kids, and I always tortured her with the “I’m never having kids!” line. I was a free spirit in my 20s, and I had no plans for settling down, even as I hit 30.

She passed away a few months after my 30th birthday. She was 54.

“Dad, do I look pregnant to you?” I asked, with that tell-tale smile plastered on my face. He was he lit up like a traffic light. But, unfortunately, he passed away at the age of 61, when my first son was only 6 weeks old.

While my parents died fairly young, one of the inevitable drawbacks of starting a family at the latter end of childbearing age is that you don’t always get to have your parents there with you. At 40, your parents are hitting their 60s and 70s – or older. They may be with you, but they’re not necessarily up for the sleepovers and big days out. They’re not up for chasing after a toddler or having a couple of little ones race around their home leaving a trail of mess wherever they roam.

What’s even more difficult, many 40-something parents who have small children are dealing with sleep exhaustion, tantrums and the energy of young children, and simultaneously dealing with parents and/or inlaws that are starting to decline in health, perhaps losing a parent, and having to deal with the stress that old age brings – health problems, financial issues, limited ability to live independently and the struggles that come with that phase of life.

Many of us are in the position of looking after both young children and elderly parents.

Our kids don’t get those grandparents that dote on them. They don’t get the sleepovers, the cuddles, the confidants and the warm, loving memories. Our ‘advanced maternal age’ has taken away the opportunity for our kids to know their grandparents the way we knew ours.

And though it’s our own doing, it’s just not fair.

Is it your first?

Posted on by Posted in Urban Suburban Mommy .

Every age and stage comes with ‘the questions’ that everyone asks. You’re a teen, people want to know what you’re going to do with your life. In your 20s they want to know when you’re going to get married. You’re married, they start asking when you’re going to have babies. You have one, they ask when number 2 is coming. You start a family in your late 30s and they want to know if this is your second husband… Or third, or fourth. Or better yet, if it’s a good idea – do you know how old you are?

should i have a baby at

The questions are exhausting – though I’m sure we’ve all asked one at one point or another. After all the questions we’ve fielded over our lifetimes, it doesn’t get easier and it doesn’t get less abrasive. People are only curious, and people don’t mean to be rude, but until they’ve lived through being asked those question, they don’t realize how crass it is to ask questions out of idle curiosity. When did it become appropriate to openly pry?

(I mutters *a-hole* under her breath every time!)

Unfortunately, it seems the questions start to increase in number and intimacy as we get to this age. It’s like 40 brings the “question climax” – these are the final ones, will they break us? Will we stop politely answering and lash out? Do we even need to answer?

No, we don’t. We are never obligated to answer. And yes, they may make us snap. Some of these questions are not only personal, they’re painful.

Being a 40-something mother, we don’t have to tell people whether it’s our first marriage, second or third, why we’re having a baby or how long we’ve been trying. People always seem to assume that a baby at that ‘late maternal age’ means it’s a last chance, last-ditch effort to become the appropriate statistic. There are more losses, it’s harder to conceive and pregnancies may be riskier. The “What are you guys waiting for?” (mutters *asshole* under her breath) may be the most painful of all. They don’t know about suffering the silent losses, the sadness of peeing on a stick and not expecting two lines. They don’t know the stress of genetic counselling and wanting to wait for the genetic testing before getting excited because the numbers from the blood work didn’t look good.

Oh, and if you DON’T have a baby by 40, it’s the worst.

“You’re missing out.” (*a-hole*)

“You poor thing, you never found Mr. Right.” (*a-hole*)

“You must be having problems conceiving.” (definitely muttering *a-hole*)

Well-intentioned people throw you at their single male acquaintances to help you couple up, because of course, that’s your whole life’s goal.

But if you do choose to be a 40-something mommy, they want to know the details. You’ll hear old wives’ tales and horror stories – and everyone knows that the dangers of trisomies and miscarriage goes up at ‘late maternal age’ so you’re already taking some risks that you don’t really need to be reminded about.

Like we need to be reminded. (*a-hole*)

All we want is a family. We planned it this way. We wanted to travel, sew wild oats, build a career. We wanted to wait until we were ready to stop focussing on ourselves and have the ability to settle down and focus on a child. Why is it so hard to believe that we could plan – to want – to spend our years being parents, not grandparents.

If one more person reminds me that I’ll be almost 60 when my kids finish high school they should be prepared for my death glare.

(*a-hole*)

I’ve perfected it.

They don’t appreciate the other side of this. I’m content. I’ve had my life and loads of experiences and I’m more well-rounded. I’m more settled and ready to focus on my child’s life, I’ve had my fun and I’m ready for this. I’m established. I’ve built my career, my home, my social network and my bank account. I’m no longer bewildered by all of the responsibility and have passed the point of worrying what others think, making it easy to make the right decision for my family, not just the prevailing, popular one.

So welcome, 40 is the new baby.