late maternal age – Urban Suburban Mommy

What’s the perfect age for making babies?

Posted on October 27, 2017 by Urban Suburban Mommy Posted in The Struggle is Real, Urban Suburban Mommy .

Is there really a perfect age to have a baby? If you have your babies in your teens, you’re too young. Early 20s? You’ve still got so much to see and do – people will tell you to finish school, travel, establish your career, get some life experience. All of a sudden you cross that threshold. You’re living your life, enjoying your career – there are promotions on the horizon and you’ve developed a lifestyle.

Once 30, those that have coupled up and condo’d up are being asked when the wedding will be – how they’re going to fit a baby into their one-bedroom hip city condo. Those that are single at 30 are now feeling the pressure from friends, family and society to just find that perfect partner. Mr. Right, Mrs. Right, just couple up – you don’t want to miss out.

Those that make it childless to their late 30s are now pitied. “There’s still time” people will offer, trying to be nice, working out the timeline: Find a partner, 18 months you’ll get married, another year and you’ll have a baby, you might actually be able to fit in a second if you find one right away!” And then you hit 40 and people start telling you there’s still time. You can do this on your own. Fertility clinics, IVF, IUI, frozen embryos.

It’s too bad society can’t stop challenging people to become parents at the perfect age.

I finally figured out the perfect age – there isn’t one.

I went through it myself and I hated when people would give me their opinion. I didn’t want kids young – I wasn’t ready to settle down. I was 29 and recall a friend offering to set me up with a guy who “Wasn’t that bad.” It felt like, at 29, I’d already missed out on top tier potential partners but could still pick one out in the scratch-n-dent partner section.

At 32, I started dating my hubby. The first time my father met him, he asked him when we were getting married. Before hubby could stop choking on his tongue, my father said “Don’t worry about getting married, just have babies.” Although we joke about that one to this day, it was clear that I was falling behind on the schedule of life.

When I got my BFP at 36, my doctor responded with the term “Late Maternal Age.” Like that’s the new “congratulations” of the late 30’s crowd.

Fergoodnessakes.

My friend had her first a few weeks before she turned 40. Her Facebook announcement of her pregnancy was “We’re so excited to let everyone know we’re getting #1 in before 40! Due in April!” Like 40 is a deadline. Like 39 is somehow magically much younger than 40 – but a few months more will change EVERYTHING.

Late maternal age worked out well for me. It’s true, there are concerns that come along with age – egg health, physical health. But it comes with benefits – life experience, stability and that wisdom they say comes with age. Maybe.

Is parenting at 40 the perfect age? It’s not for everyone, but it’s worked out well for me.

Three things my children make fun of me for

Posted on October 16, 2017 by Urban Suburban Mommy Posted in The Struggle is Real .

I don’t know about you, but my boys have gotten to the age where they’re starting to tease me. They’ve got wit, they’ve got a sense of humour and they’ve got some nerve…

I remember saying these types of things to my mom when I was a kid.

I also remember the look on her face. It was probably the same look I had on my face when my kids asked me about my experience growing up with dinosaurs. And my mom had me young – she was 23 and a mom, barely 25 with her second. Having kids at 37 and 39, I have some serious years on her! I’m not sure though, if my kids perceive me as old because I’m a 40-something mom, or if all kids are just brutes when it comes to comprehending their parents’ generation. Regardless, my kids love teasing me about being old (because they know they’ve hit a nerve/have some material to work with) and they’re merciless. My husband has a blast joining in.

1. Mom, your hair is so grey.

Just the other day, my younger son told us that when he grows up he’s going to be rich so that he can buy dad a solid gold mansion. “What’s he going to buy for mom?” you ask? HAIR DYE. Dad gets a solid gold mansion and I get hair dye so that I won’t have to look old.

2. Mom isn’t cool enough to speak the lingo.

Last week my son told me they were watching Yubes.

Yah, I asked.

Turns out that’s what kids are calling YouTube. I’m so old I don’t know the lingo. I keep catching myself saying I taped that – I tape nothing. I record. I’m having problems moving on from VHS in my own mind, apparently. My kids think it’s funny – not in that “laughing with you” funny. They’re definitely laughing at me.

3. Mom, did you ever have a pet dinosaur?

This one cuts deep, since I remember asking my mom questions along the same line – I also asked my mom if she wore ball gowns (you know, because she was old enough to grow up in the Victorian era); if they had suits of armour when she was small (because she must have been around in the middle ages); and if the world was in black and white when she was a kid (I didn’t quite understand that colour TV was because of technology developments, I thought actual colour was a recent invention in the early 70s.). My poor mom. I was a mean kid – however unintentionally.

I stole my grandchildren –– from myself

Posted on August 9, 2017 by Urban Suburban Mommy 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.

photo by Matthew Rutledge

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.

Is it your first?

Posted on February 12, 2016 by urbansuburbanmommy 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?

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.

At 44, feeling fertile is a state of mind

Posted on January 18, 2016 by urbansuburbanmommy Posted in Urban Suburban Mommy .

So you’re a 40-something mommy like me. And you’re done having babies, like me. What do you do to shut down the factory?

It’s not like before where you need to think about the future – you can do something more permanent if you want – tie those tubes, get that Essure, have him clipped. It’s not like we’re 25 and might want to change our minds and have another child in 5 or 10 years. We’re 40-something and we’re done. Sure, there are technically a few more years for us, and I don’t want to be agist, but seriously, there aren’t too many of us that want to go the route of being pregnant and closing in on 50 – never mind that that it’s practically impossible for most women to do it (though not impossible for some).

According to Web MD, perimenopause starts at 47, and the average woman starts menopause at 51. Yes, it it possible to get pregnant through perimenopause, and right through to the time you stop having periods, but it’s not likely.

When I was 6 weeks post partum I had my IUD put in. I decided to go the route of no hormones and opted for the copper Nova-T IUD. I’m completely happy about my decision – except for the fact that it starts losing its effectiveness at 5 years. When my doctor put it in (and she’s a mom and the same age as I am), she was pretty nonchalant about the fact that I could probably keep this one because at 44 I would start to lose the ability to get pregnant, and even if I did, it wouldn’t stick.

It’s an interesting distinction. It’s not black and white. Fertility is highest up to your late 20s. Then into your early 30s, while not at its peak, fertility is still pretty good. Web MD pegs the decline starting at 35, which is the whole ‘late maternal age thing’ I heard a lot during my pregnancies. Fertility declines, and it declines hard. Eggs are getting older, the chances of chromosomal issues increases, the fertility factor decreases. You may feel that you’re in your sexual prime, but your ovaries are shouting out last call.Dr. David Adamson, president of the American Society for Reproductive Medicine explains on Web MD that, at 39, your chances of conceiving are half of what they were are 31. Over the next 3 years it declines by half again. 41 is where things really dive – about 10 years before menopause hits is when fertility ends. Some women have fertility longer, some much shorter. But you don’t know until you try.

It’s just so ironic. You spend so many years preventing, and then when you’re finally ready, BOOM. You find out it’s not so easy after all.

Now, my son turned 5 last year. I am in that grey area. Do I *need* birth control? It wasn’t that easy to get pregnant at 36, how likely is it that I can get pregnant at 44, especially with a semi-effective IUD?

Birth control at 44 is different than at 22 , or even at 32. We had our babies just before the cut-off, didn’t we? Birth control is, of course, still a consideration, but not *as* important. Though plenty of us are throwing the tubal in with our last birth, and doing something because, we don’t want to take a chance and well, we are just so used to it. At 39, I realistically felt that I should still use birth control, but I didn’t want to do anything permanent. I wanted to keep the lines of conversation open, just in case.

The IUD was it. I just couldn’t see any other form of birth control. My husband had made it clear he was never getting the big V. (It was actually one of his three dealbreakers when we got serious about our relationship and had ‘the talk’ so I knew that was out.) I’d used the patch, briefly, and wasn’t a huge fan of it – or hormones in general. We’d done sponges for the brief period after I’d decided I was never using hormones again. I could get a diaphragm, he could use condoms – what other forms of birth control are out there? NFP was out of the question. Charting and tracking are not my strong suit.

I think coming to the other side of childbearing is just something that messes with you – and birth control is the icing on the crazy cake. Do you or don’t you? At 44, feeling fertile is just a state of mind.