What ‘Advanced Maternal Age’ Really Means

Note from Dianna: I met Fadra while at Bloggy Boot Camp Baltimore (although she probably doesn’t remember). We got to know each other MUCH better during BBC Philly. She’s funny, sweet, poignant and full of life – be sure and visit her after this post.

I remember sitting in 8th grade art class like it was yesterday. I would have been around 13 years old. For some reason, we were all talking about how old our parents were. Like me, most of the other kids had parents in their mid to late thirties. My parents were 38 at the time. And then there was Jennifer. She revealed that her parents were 48. WHOA!

At the time, I could only envision what it must be like in her household. She was an only child with apparently ancient parents. I imagined that they would sit on the couch watching Mike Douglas or Lawrence Welk on their console television while she ran off and did whatever it was that she did (she was actually incredibly smart).

Now, it’s 27 years later. I’m 40 years old. My husband is 45. We have a 4 year old son. Someday, he’ll be sitting in 8th grade art class talking about how his mom is 49 and his dad is 54! WHOA! Yeah. We’ve become those parents.

We never intended to be “old” parents. In fact, we weren’t even sure if we were going to be parents at all.

I had spent years with the wrong guy (luckily never married him) and my husband spent years with the wrong woman (unfortunately he did marry her). But our paths crossed at just the right time. We were both single and found love. Having come from bad relationships, we were so happy to have found each other and really spent time enjoying married life.

I think the problem was that we enjoyed married life a little too much. We became DINKs (a.k.a., Dual Income No Kids). We both worked in the high-tech sector. We both made good money. We traveled a lot. We bought new cars. We bought a new house. We enjoyed living our adult life.

We wavered on the idea of having kids. We both loved kids but knew they were a huge commitment and maybe we just weren’t cut out for that. Then one day, I had this vision of the future. It was a future where all of our mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, were all long gone. Our siblings were older and off with their families and we were all alone. We had no one to come home for Thanksgiving and for Christmas. And that’s when I knew that I didn’t want that lonely existence.

We made a few changes and adopted an “if it happens, it happens” mentality. Much to my husband’s dismay, it did happen, very quickly. He was hoping it might take a few more months of “trying.”

Trying to stay young and cute through pregnancy.

It was on my first visit to the doctor after a positive pregnancy test that I was labeled. I was a woman of “advanced maternal age.” It’s a fancy term that means you’re kind of old to be having a baby. You simply have to be 35 or older at the time your baby is due. I was going to be 36. The downside was the label. The upside was that my insurance company paid for additional tests and ultrasounds that I wouldn’t have otherwise had.

I opted for all non-invasive tests for the baby. I didn’t know what I would do with the information but wanted to know as much as possible. Everything looked good and we were happy. Being older, we knew there were more risks but percentage-wise, we felt pretty good.

I imagined a stylish and carefree life.

I also had a level 2 ultrasound. The ultrasound went into more detail to ensure that all of the right organs were in the right place and that the baby was developing normally. Before we went in, we sat with a genetic counselor who told us what some of the tests might reveal and how to prepare ourselves for them.

Admittedly we were nervous. We just wanted a healthy baby. It turned out that we were having a healthy baby boy. However, the doctor kept us waiting quite a while because apparently someone else’s tests did not have favorable results. It really made us stop and think of how lucky and grateful we were.

Other than some additional testing, my experience as an older mom has been right on track. I can’t ran after my son as fast as I’d like but I’m sure that has more to do with my physical condition than my age. And I don’t have as much patience for the lack of sleep or the whining. But again, I’m pretty sure a younger me would feel the same way.

In the end, this is what matters.

I do think about the future. I think about being the oldest mom at his school play, or high school graduation, or even his wedding. But no matter my age or his, our family bond is strong and having him in my life has been a decision I couldn’t imagine not making.

Fadra is a writer, blogger, mother, wife, pet lover, world traveler, marketer, computer nerd, fashionista, baker, reader, and hiker all rolled into one. She blogs regularly at all.things.fadra , as well as AndNobodyToldMe. You can frequently find her on Twitter. Very frequently.

Related posts:

1. Six Tips for Staying Sane While Sending a Kid Off to College
2. more pics
3. Advent and Saint Nicholas: Saints and Scripture Sunday

Tagged as: baby shower, children, family, friends