I had my first child at 37—here’s what I’ve learned
Despite the fact that I don't have as much energy as I used to (coffee helps, but let's be honest), I'm so happy I had my kids when I did. Here are the advantages I've found in older motherhood.
I gave birth to my daughter, Emerson, at age 37 and my son, Liam, at age 38. My children are intentionally only 18 months apart because I didn’t want to tempt the hands of time.
I was induced at 37 weeks for both births, impressed that my body could withstand natural childbirth considering that my biggest fear was that I wouldn’t be able to push them out on my own. But I did and our healthy babies were here at last.
For me, being of an “advanced maternal age” has its physical limitations. The toddler years were exhausting, the bones in my feet crack when I do something as simple as walk across a room, and if I try anything remotely athletic—like jump on the trampoline with my now 6-and-7-year-old—there’s a good chance I’ll pee my pants.
Despite the fact that I don’t have as much energy as I used to (coffee helps, but let’s be honest), I’m so happy I had my kids when I did. Here are the advantages I’ve found in older motherhood.
1. I don’t feel like I’m missing out.
Before I got married, I traveled the world, as far as Greece, Thailand and Japan. I spent summers after college living with friends in a tiny bungalow a few blocks from the beach. I earned my master’s degree while working at a publishing house in New York City—those years of my life earmarked by intellectual freedom, spontaneous happy hours and long stretches of time when I could simply wander the city with nowhere in particular to go.
Now I have a busier schedule and I’m responsible for more humans, but I’m just as happy going to the shore for a week each summer and taking short road trips with our children. And when my friends tell me they’re going on a family vacation to the tropics, I’m not envious, but rather relieved that I’ll be sitting on my couch binge-watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey while they’re flying across the ocean with their kids.
2. I think differently about friendship.
Do I want to be well-liked by the moms at my kids’ school? Of course. Do I need to be in the “popular” mom group? No. I don’t feel pressure to get invited to every at-home jewelry party or moms’ night out and, if it weren’t for Facebook, I’d be oblivious to what other moms do on the weekends anyway.
I have amazing girlfriends and spending quality time with these women keeps me feeling like myself. But I’m more invested in my kids’ social well-being than my own. Do they have kind friends? Are they happy at school? Are they able to resolve big-kid conflicts fairly quickly? And if my children have a playdate at someone else’s house, can I stay?
I’m not lingering at playdates to check out the condition of the playroom or scan the medicine cabinet for questionable prescription labels but because I genuinely want to get to know the parents of my kids’ friends. They’ll be spending a lot of time together, and as the kids’ friendship grows, hopefully, ours will too.
3. I’m not afraid to speak up.
Maybe I’m a bit overzealous about checking for strep throat or ask too many questions during my kids’ wellness visits, but our pediatrician and I have come to a mutual understanding. I respect that she’s the one with the medical degree (not Google), and she knows I’m vigilant about my kids’ health not because I’m too much, but because I’m confident enough to trust my gut.
While my younger self would avoid confrontation AT ALL COSTS, the older me doesn’t waste any time if I sense that something is off at school or not quite right with my child. Whether I’m talking to their doctor, coach or teacher, I approach the conversation as if I’m speaking with an equal who also has the best interest of my kids at heart.
4. I see the big picture.
When I was a kid, I put a ton of pressure on myself to get straight A’s to the point of hyperventilating when I got a B on a test only to be sent to the nurse’s office to breathe into a brown paper bag (true story). No child should be that worried about grades because even though I graduated at the top of my high school class, I don’t remember much except for that time my friend Jen made crepes on an electric skillet during French class.
When it comes to my kids’ education, less homework is more. Longer recess and more independent play are best. Does my child have an outdoorsy teacher who hatches baby chicks in class? Great! Do they have a nice group of friends to sit with at lunch? Even better!
I’m 100% confident my kids will learn everything they need to in school without having to stress over it, something I might have overlooked when I was still focused on the small details.
5. I’ve learned to slooow down.
Growing up, my younger sister and I would build forts out of cardboard boxes and ride our bikes until it was time to come inside for dinner. We shared a bedroom until I was 10, wore hand-me-downs and spent most of our childhood outside.
Today I realize that my kids don’t need overpacked schedules, fancy vacations or expensive toys to be happy. What they do need is downtime, trips to the library, nature walks, unstructured play, and lazy summers when we swim every day and eat dinner outside every night.
I also take a more laid-back approach to discipline than I would have before. I don’t react to their overreactions. We talk, I give them the reasons behind what I say and do, and I’m quick to apologize if I do something wrong. Although this approach isn’t fool-proof, it makes them feel safe to express a wide range of emotions in front of me without feeling bad about it.
The older I get, the more appreciative I am of those fleeting childhood moments.
Like when Emerson says “I love you” first.
Or when Liam calls me an “adorable, normal mom” and we both laugh because neither one of us is exactly sure what he means but it’s funny anyway.
When Emerson reaches for my hand or Liam needs to be consoled a little longer because it’s not only his knee that hurts.
When they dance while brushing their teeth, admiring themselves in a spit-speckled mirror.
When they laugh so hard together I thank God they’ll have each other—even long after I’m gone.
I’m aware that my time with them is limited—they will grow up, go to college, move out and start their own families while I watch proudly from the sidelines. But until then, I’ll give them all of me and continue to parent from an older—albeit not perfect but hopefully a bit wiser—perspective.
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