Urban Suburban Mommy

Tag Archives: motherhood

And then it was HIGH SCHOOL!

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real, Urban Suburban Mommy .
First day of school Fall 2012

It was just his first day of kindergarten. KINDERGARTEN! I’d worried and stressed about the right school. I’d checked out all of the local options and lost a lot of sleep trying to make the right decision.

I landed on an alternative school that was run by the public school board in our area. With its outdoor program and left-leaning values I was sure this was a perfect match.

And it was, for quite some time.

I put in time parenting my baby, nurturing, growing, daycare, school drop-offs, concerts, plays and field trips. I was class parent, student council member, made costumes and cakes and sent in treats for parties, bake sales and movie nights.

And now it’s over.

He graduated from Grade 8. My Little Bunny has reached the next level. He can roam free on his own without supervision. He makes mature, sometimes wildly inappropriate jokes. He might just be a bit smarter than me, I’m ready to admit it.

And I need to stop calling him Little Bunny. (Out loud, anyways, in my head I will NEVER stop!)

When I was pushing the boundaries of teenagerdom my mom realized she wasn’t done with having little bunnies around, and at 35 she had my sister. My parents were definitely considered “older” but having more children in your 30s wasn’t terribly uncommon in the ’80s.

As good girls did in the ’60s, my mother got married at 21 and had me – her first – at 24, with my brother following along 2 years later. By the time my parents got around to having #3, my brother and I were old enough to help with the new kid. We diapered, and fed, and babysat and helped with it all.

But that’s the thing with starting a family at 40-ish. By the time I realized that I wasn’t done with baby bunnies, my body was like “sorry sistah, that mall has closed.”

There would be no second act, no time to add one more. In your 20s and 30s it’s more often an active decision you make about whether to have more baby bunnies, but when you start pushing 50, it’s not terribly likely that you have any say in the matter. Even looking into adoption, while there is no upper age limit, the hoops can get harder to jump through. And as any 40-ish parent knows, the ‘grandparent’ comments do start. Babies at 50? I know people who have had surprises at 50+, and the ‘grandparent’ comments just don’t stop.

So what I’ve been wondering is, do we “late maternal age”-ers hold on tighter? Because we can’t extend the baby time, do we impose our emotions on our young adults? I feel like I’ve had to work extra hard to loosen the reigns and lengthen the leash and let them fly on their own. I even romanticize those days of extra bedtime stories and snuggles, looking back longingly – when, in actuality, I just wanted them to go the f#$% to bed most nights, and was exhausted beyond all reason by the time their nighttime routine was complete.

Last day of school Summer 2022

We went to his Grade 8 graduation and I loved every minute of it. I love that he didn’t want to fall in with the troops and get formalwear, because it’s just not him. I love that he rolled with it and went for me, even though he didn’t see the big deal about grade 8 graduation. I loved all of it.

What I didn’t love was accepting it all. He’s no Little Bunny, he’s a big kid. A teen. A high schooler. He’s making his own decisions and cooking up his own plans.

At 50 with children that are really starting to flex their independence, I have this constant feeling like I’ve got handfuls of sand. The more I try to hold onto them and keep all the moments and memories of sand wrapped up safe and tight, the faster the grains of sand slip through my fingers and into the past.

So onwards and upwards to high school, but I’ve decided that he may have to put up with me calling him Little Bunny just a little longer.

7 best beauty tips for moms returning to work

Posted on by Posted in The Best You .

Since August is the month with the highest birth rate (I am an August baby – are all you mamas trying to stay warm in November?!?!?), it’s also the month for the most Canadian mommies going back to work after their one year maternity leave. Yes, we Canadians are lucky in that respect! But moms everywhere can use this advice, so we caught up with the woman behind the fashion label Peachymama, Merril Bainbridge for some top beauty tips to take you back to the bread-winning world.

Merril offers:

Gone are the days when you would spend hours fixing your hair and making yourself beautiful before going out, either for pleasure or work. You now have a baby to attend to! You will surely have less time for your beauty routines.

However, this should not prevent you from looking your best, most especially when you have already decided to go back to work. There are easy shortcuts that new moms like you can try to achieve glowing skin, shiny hair, and well-applied makeup.

How new moms can look fresh and rejuvenated

1. Shower before bedtime

When your baby is down for the night, you will definitely have more time to shampoo your hair and soak in the tub. The warm water will also help you feel relaxed and prepare you for several hours of uninterrupted sleep (fingers crossed!).

2. Cut your makeup routine

The sheer glow you have throughout your pregnancy often vanishes right after giving birth. Get that sheer glow back by using a high quality concealer or a cream-to-powder formula foundation. If you want to add some color, keep it simple by opting for a cream blush, which can also serve as an eye and lip tint. Allot another 10 seconds for curling your eyelashes as this can help make those sleepy eyes appear brighter and bigger.

3. Keep your nails short and neat

Right after giving birth, you may not have enough time for a manicure; still, you need to keep your nails short and smoothly filed. Aside from making your hands pretty, having short and clean nails will also prevent you from scratching your baby’s tender skin, most especially when changing diapers.

4. Use functional yet fashionable clothing

From leggings to tees to shoes, consider wearing black because this color can slim you down in minutes. Most importantly, it can take care of all those body issues you are currently dealing with.

Aside from that, choose fantastic clothing that will make your legs look longer. These include garments with vertical stripes, maxi skirts, high-waist jeans, and straight-cut pants.

As for your shoes, block heels can be the best option for you. Apart from giving you height, these are also all about comfort.

5. Accessorize

With the expenses associated with having a new baby, you probably cannot afford an entirely new wardrobe. Still, you can show off the latest trends as well as give your wardrobe a lift by picking up handbags and other accessories you own. You can make use of a diaper bag that can also transform into a laptop bag. Also, headbands or beanies are some great choices for hair accessories if you do not feel like styling your hair.

6. Make your hair shiny and beautiful

If you do not have time to wash those locks, consider using a dry shampoo. On the greasy spots, apply baby powder and brush them out. Don’t forget to apply a shine spray to make sure that whenever your hair falls, it won’t look all frizzy out in public.

If you’re feeling down, opt for a new hair color because this will surely lift your spirits. This will also introduce some welcome changes to your style for several months.

7. Nourish your skin

Keep your skin free of dirt, sweat and oil to prevent a dull appearance and clogged pores. Always wash your face every morning and night and after activities like cleaning the house, exercising or any physical activity. But if you do not have time to wash your face, use an astringent instead.

Each time you go out, do not forget to protect your skin by applying sunscreen. And after sun exposure, soothe your skin with fragrance-free cream to prevent skin irritations.

Keeping your skin moisturized is also very important. Apply hypoallergenic moisturizer after every cleansing. Be aware of the skincare products to avoid while breastfeeding.

If possible, pamper your skin at least once a week to make it feel and look fantastic. For five minutes, you can actually give yourself a home spa treatment. Gently cleanse your face, and then steam it over a bowl of hot water with rose or lavender leaves. After that, splash with cold water. Lastly, apply some moisturizer. By doing so, the pores will be deep-down clean. And most importantly, you will feel and look relaxed.

Most of all, try to embrace the return to work – it’s a big change, but you’ve got this!

About Merril:

At 16, Merril Bainbridge began her career in the Australian fashion industry. In her early 20’s she left to launch a successful Pop Music career which saw her at the top of the US Music Charts. Retiring to start a family, she found a new purpose helping breastfeeding women with her fashion label, Peachymama.

 

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.

How We Survived A Year Of Unemployment

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

By now, you’ve heard the story of how I lost my job, house and sanity last year; an unholy trifecta and veritable s**tstorm that would level any normal person. But not this mama!

It wasn’t easy, but I finally see a light at the end of the tunnel and for once, it’s not a train.

If I can survive, anyone can. The hardest part? Finding moments of joy and opportunities for reflection and rediscovery. I don’t do “happy” well; I usually defer to b*tch panic, especially when I’m robbed of routine and, um… my house and livelihood. This past year forced me not only to change my idea of “normal”, but also my identity and my future. It was a lot of work, but here’s how I did it:

  1. I changed the monologue: Hi, I’m Alexis’ anxiety! Follow me on my path to total self-destruction as we examine every worst-case scenario!
    I was convinced that if I ever lost my job we would survive for exactly two weeks before selling everything we own and becoming hermits in a box by the underpass. In reality, we lasted much longer than I thought we would. I had some savings, a severance package and support to see me through the biggest hurdles. I worked hard to change the negative-speak and set realistic expectations. Without sounding too “New Age-y” and “#blessed,” I found the positives: our new house will be clean and dry, we will not starve, I will find a job!
  2. I cast a wider net: I started looking at a greater variety of opportunities. Contracts? Sure! Self-Employment? Why not? Part-time? Bring it!
    I’m now leveraging 16 years of knowledge in retail marketing, graphic design and communications into what I hope will be a successful new career.
  3. I started volunteering: Once a week, I spend several hours at a not for profit developing digital marketing assets. The additional skill sets look great on a resume and the finished pieces are perfect for my portfolio.
  4. I kept learning and networking: I’m a sucker for research. If there’s something I don’t know, I make it my business to learn it. I took online tutorials and courses at Udemy.com and Lynda.com. I read books about freelance careers and customer success. I joined MumNet and attended networking functions to grow my village. I signed up for career workshops, job fairs, and connected with people in any industry I was interested in. Everyone was happy to let me pick their brains and some of the meetings led to job interviews. Most importantly, the process of networking forced me to go outside and be in the world.
  5. I enjoyed more time with my kids: This should be at the top of the list. I took advantage of every opportunity to take the boys to and from school, to the park, appointments and walks around the city to discover the world and each other. I will never get this time back once they’re older, and the extra time allowed me to slow down and be with them rather than just herding them around and getting things done.

We’re a work in progress – still not gainfully employed, house isn’t finished yet (because, insurance companies) and we don’t know what the next few months will bring us, making it hard to make any long-term plans. The things I don’t know and can’t predict far exceed the things I know for certain. What I’ve come to is this: After 16 years, I lost my “safety net.” So I might as well take a chance, laugh a bit and above all, enjoy the ride.

 

Raising Boys and the Art of Poop

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

I’m raising three boys. I married one, gave birth to the other two.

Before you label me an emasculating nag, let me just tell you that my husband is an awesome father and partner, and he routinely scrubs the finish off of my plastic cookware, at least he’s doing the dishes.

Also, he once tried to fix an electrical outlet with a butter knife. While the power was still on. So, that’s what I’m working with.

The trajectory of learning to raise boys was not so much a curve, but rather an abrupt drop that plummeted to the depths of sanity, with me shrieking all the way. I have a sister. My mom has a sister. My maternal grandmother had two sisters.

“Girl” is a language I’m familiar with.

My husband prepared me for raising boys in bits and bites; by the time I was pregnant with my first child, I was ready to have a toilet seat perpetually raised, a trail of clothing on the floor (presumably, to help him find his way to the kitchen) and an affinity for sports. My husband was rebellious and untamed back in his day (he specifically asked that I not mention the time he stole a street cleaner, so I won’t.) We thought we could anticipate and be prepared for anything our boys threw at us.

As it turned out, we were dumb.

Boys are encoded with baffling behaviour and unexplained rituals. Every time I catch up, something new comes along. If you have any insights on the following, I’m all ears:

Mess:

Imagine a dumpster fire. Now it’s in your living room. My home is a constant eruption of indelible markers, old food, new food and toys that are designed to break the sound barrier and the human spirit. I don’t need a nanny, I need a priest.

Smell:

I’m not talking about the obvious shaboomie in the diaper after taco night. I’m talking about the pervasive, insistent aroma that follows my boys around. Nate’s natural smell seems to be yogurt and dirty running shoes. And sometimes poop. Which leads me to…

Poop:

My kids are obsessed. They talk about poop constantly. They think it’s the most hilarious word in the English lexicon. Nate has even developed a highly sophisticated language whereby every other word is “poop”. It took a while to crack the code, but now we watch Frozen together and happily sing along to “Let It Poop.”

Danger:

If there’s a way to climb something, dangle from somewhere or perch precariously on something that’s not meant for climbing, they will find it. The calm, centred, nurturing Mama inside of me says “They’re just testing their boundaries. Let them explore.” The part of me that’s attached to my face screams “For the love of GOD get off that scaffolding before you break your neck!”

What I couldn’t have known, what no one prepared me for, was the utter love and devotion my boys have – for me. While I was busy falling in mad, deep, crazy love for my kids, I hadn’t noticed that they were doing the same thing. Of all the “boy stuff” I was unprepared for, that surprise was the most welcomed.

Kids’ stuff I wish someone would invent

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

If you’re like me, you have all the time in the world to daydream about how easy this parenting gig would be if you only had a (fill in the blank).

For every step forward in the “useful kids’ crap” category (see Gro Clock), there is a giant leap backwards (see Child disassembles Gro Clock with the accuracy and precision of a bomb specialist.) I’ve gone one step further and leaped so far out of the box that the items listed below can only be found in the realm of science fiction. Still, a mom can dream, can’t she?

1. A feat of engineering that keeps bathtub water IN the bathtub and off the floor.

Perhaps an invisible force field or a film that keeps water where it belongs. I’d even try sonar that prevents children from turning the tub into a wave pool like a Kraken on, well…crack. So far, I’ve tried a garbage bag and a clear storage bin but as of yet have been unsuccessful.

2. A baby/toddler/pre-schooler-to-English translator that plugs directly into your ear.

Imagine – no more figuring out which cup they want, no more wondering why your child is crying for the eleventy-hundredth time (in the past hour). “Nooo!” becomes “I would gladly play with that parent-approved, educational toy.” At the very least, if no translation could be found, the ear plug would pump in the soothing, dulcet tones of Enya or Yanni Live at the Acropolis.

3. Food that instantly becomes whatever your child wants.

Chicken fingers? No problem. Oh, you changed your mind? Bam! Macaroni! Bonus points if every dish magically has four times the nutritional value of my preschooler’s current diet of plain hamburger buns and air.

4. A magic bed.

I’m probably the only parent alive who has problems with her children sleeping in their own bed (or sleeping at all), but bear with me. If someone created a bed that could transport my child to Slumberland and keep him there until the sun actually rose, I would literally just give that sorcerer all of my money. Note: I would also accept a mattress that cuts the bedtime nonsense down from two hours to twenty solid minutes.

5. Toys that don’t lose their pieces.

Or have sharp edges. Or get caught in an air vent. Or up a child’s nose. Or don’t require batteries. Or cause dents in a child’s skull when his younger brother clobbers him with it. So, basically a sponge.

6. Liquid patience.

If only there was a magical liquid that could soothe a mommy’s frazzled nerves and transport her feelings of rage and inadequacy to a far-off place. I would name it after the sound it creates when it first passes the lips: Merlooooooot……

Note to self: stop by the liquor store.

You’re not *just* a mom

Posted on by Posted in The Best You .

Wellness isn’t all yoga and smoothies, vitamins and the newest fad diet. Sure, sleep, eating right, regular doctors visits and keeping hydrated are all extremely beneficial when it comes to wellness, but you know what? Sometimes it needs to be all about us.

This dawned on me as I was sitting at Sick Kids hospital with my son for five hours this morning and then deciding to call it ‘A vacation day’ because I’d already missed more work than I wanted to make up.

My VACATION days are sacrificed for my children. Gladly.

Dinner? I make what THEY want.

Girls weekends in Vegas? Sorry, little bunny has a school play that Friday.

Honestly, when I realized I was sacrificing my purse and shoe addiction collection in order to fund the needs of these children, I knew I’d discovered the selflessness of motherhood.

Plus the staying up with sick kids, trading sleep for snuggles when they have bad dreams, playing board games (or bored games, I need a break from Candyland!), and sitting through hours of Dora, Caillou and Ruby – because, let’s face it, I really never need to hear any of those voices again – tell the tale.

We don’t have to NOT be moms, there’s no stopping that train, but we need to remember that we are also human beings. When was the last time a day was all about you? How about half-a-day? How about three consecutive hours?

It’s time to take a vacation day and use it. It’s time to leave them at daycare and NOT feel guilty on a day off. It’s time to pick a movie we want to see for once, go swimming without having to “watch this!” or spend time with a friend having tea without interruptions every minute, on the minute. It’s time to make a real dinner with adult flavours and real china instead of pandering to the mini masses.

It’s not a rejection of motherhood. I LOVE being a mom. I think that’s why it’s so easy to put myself last and worry more over their needs than mine. There’s no way I can possibly refuse to wake up for a nightmare or a sick child, but there are ways to carve out time for us and not be *just a mom* – and by JUST, I don’t minimize motherhood, not for one second. Motherhood is all-encompassing, I do it because I think it’s the biggest, best and most important job there is. But it’s time to rethink it and not make motherhood the only recognizable part of the people we are.

Next vacation day I’m hitting the spa, drinking champagne and buying myself something pretty.

(Unless my kids really need me!)

 

Now what?

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

You spend all of that time learning how to be a good pregnant lady.

You learn how to do the whole crazy birth thing.

You learn how to feed them, burp them, change them and get them to sleep.

And then… They go and turn into full fledged human beings on you.

Now what?

There’s no more stressing over whether they’re hitting their milestones or what foods to introduce. They’re good.

There’s no more cute outfits. They know what they like.

There’s no more shoving them in a car seat and taking them where you want. It’s all a negotiation and hopes for good behaviour.

They didn’t prepare me for this stage in all of those motherhood books. I was so busy getting to be good at being pregnant and getting through the infant stage that I had no idea how confounding the big boy stage would be.

what-now-beach

My sons are 6 and 8. It’s fun and exciting to see the people they are, the minds they’re starting to develop, the activities they’re starting to excel in.

But I can’t help but feeling that I’m along for the ride and barely holding on for dear life. Please tell me I’m not the only one! I have no clue about Pokémon or Beyblades or hockey. In fact, sitting around a cold rink early on Saturday mornings was the LAST thing I wanted to do, but since the boys like it, I do it.

Along for the ride.

While the start of motherhood comes with so many books and so many clearly defined dos and don’ts, by the time you get a few years in, it’s more of a surprise that unfolds around you.

And it’s fun. I’m glad I’m along for the ride.

I never wanted to stand around a cold hockey rink far too early on a Saturday morning. But seeing them get all geared up and shuffle along the ice is actually fun. Cold, but fun. Watching them learn to read, do math, learn how many eyes a bee has is exciting, kind of mind blowing, actually.

They come home from school and have a bunch of things to tell me that they’ve learned, that they’ve done with friends, that they’ve imagined and created. Now, I’ve learned not to ask what they did at school, because the certain answer to that question is “NOTHING!” But if I wait for them to get there, they start telling me, bit by bit, the minutiae of their days.

And it’s all just so incredible. An amazing part of the ride.

I love hearing about what they and their friends thought up. I love hearing about the jokes and the funny things and I feel my blood boil whenever anyone wrongs them.

This whole parenthood thing is crazy.

boys-zamboni-what-now

 

My mom made it look so easy. I thought parents knew everything, I thought they had all of the answers. I really thought when I became a mother that it would be that way.

I’m winging it.

Sometimes the moms on Facebook and the moms at the school and the moms in my circle make me wonder if everyone got the manual but me. I’m pretty sure they’re just along for the ride too…

But then I think, they seem happy, they’re becoming decent little human beings, they’re thriving – and that means I must be doing something right.

Right?

Doing it all: The housewife/working mom edition

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

Recently, I asked for help.

That is to say, I hired help.

Once every two weeks, she comes to clean my home from top to bottom. This morning, she eagerly volunteered to clean out my fridge. I can’t stress this enough: someone wants to clean out my fridge, the “cave of edibles from parts unknown.” This marks the second item on a list of things I never thought would happen. At the top of the list was asking for help.

domestic goddess

I officially burned out two months into life post-maternity leave. I felt the signs: heart palpitations, sweats, anxiety, fatigue. I felt it every time I came home from my full time job and looked at the catastrophe that was my living room, every time I couldn’t find something, every time I asked “what did I just step in?” I couldn’t stay on top of dishes, laundry, cooking, groceries, vacuuming. I couldn’t enjoy time with my kids because I was busy scurrying around trying to straighten up – a task that was never complete. I felt like I was trying to put out a forest fire with a garden hose attached to a fuel line.

And yet I went a long time before I actually hired someone to help me stay on top of it. I don’t ask for help very well or often (honestly I’d rather give myself a physical using kitchen utensils). I used to judge women who had “hired help”.

“Must be nice,” I’d think, feeling angry and resentful that these women had time to spend with their kids while I was off playing “find the smell.”

I’m not perfect, I still judge people. I’m working on that. It’s on my To Do list, right under deleting Pinterest from my apps.

Let’s get real – most of us have to work. We’ve come to enjoy the finer things in life, like food, shelter and catered birthday parties at Jungle Land. The cost of living in this city is insane – it’s no wonder that double incomes are not always a choice. Certainly not for us. I’m the primary breadwinner AND the default parent. I’ve been trying to manage everything, and ultimately, not managing at all. I don’t “have it all”, I just “do it all.”

And who was I martyring myself for? Was there a prize for shouldering the biggest burden? I was back at work full time and at my full salary. My kids wanted my full attention – I could give it to them. I needed time to myself – I could make it happen. I started putting money aside and found a cleaning lady that I trusted (I’m working on my trust issues. It’s on that list, right under waxing my unmentionables.) I started delegating. I even found a babysitter to come once in a while. You know, so my husband and I can go out, eat hot food and talk about…the kids. We’re working on that.

It’s on the list…

At 44, feeling fertile is a state of mind

Posted on by Posted in Urban Suburban Mommy .
IUD repeat repeat

IUD repeat repeatSo 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.

IUD in handWhen 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.

other uses for an iudThe 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.