On Being an Older Mom

The Anxiety of Having a Baby Later in Life

I sat on the edge of my bed and had a good cry. I had been 40 years old for about a month, and for the entire seven years of our marriage, my husband and I had been trying for a baby. Time and again, my body disappointed me.

And now, I was 40. The big 4–0, and staring down menopause. I let myself cry over it, but I knew I had a choice. Never being a mom wasn’t the life I hoped for, but it could be a good life, too — if I let it. Yes, I’d still have moments when I would ache for motherhood, of course, but I did not want the sadness to make me bitter or resentful.

Go ahead and grieve for your fading dream, I told myself, then get up, wash your face, and move on.

Five months later, I was pregnant.

Isn’t that the way it often goes? Someone can wish for the perfect mate, or a baby, or both, for years with only disappointment to show for it. But sometimes, I think, our Creator wants us to realize life isn’t about getting everything you wish for.

Thankfully the entire pregnancy was drama-free. No Braxton-Hicks, no gestational diabetes, no complications at all, just one easy, breezy pregnancy.

Except…the eighth month brought anxiety. Not about the delivery or whether I’d be a good mother. I…