Often throughout my childhood and adolesence, I would overhear my Mom, sometimes in a wondering tone and other times as a somewhat matter-of-fact complaint, state that she did not feel as old as she looked and she sometimes did not recognize the person she saw in the mirror. She was my Mom, she was the same age as everyone else's mothers (she was 26 when she had me) and I had no idea what she was talking about.
Well, now I do. Apparently, it happens to the best of us.
One day you are worrying about who to invite to your first slumber party and the next your begging to shave your legs and fretting over what to wear to your first day of high school. The next thing you know you are excited about getting your driver's license and then ordering your class ring. In a blink of an eye, you are graduating from college, saying goodbye and moving into your own place. Then, before you know it, you've gotten married, acquired a mortgage and you find yourself in the bathroom at a concert washing your hands and upon catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you realize you are no longer one of the "young, hip" folks in the joint.
Like my Mom, I am not sure how it happened. However, unlike my Mom's experience I cannot say it bothers me in the least. Heck, I am married to a perpetual teenager (in a good way) who still thinks we are way cooler and I am cuter than all of the young hipsters that surround us at these shows, but I do have to say it surprised and frightened me the first time I looked in the mirror and did not recognize that woman looking back at me. Of course, that was at the tender age of 29.
Now, at the age of 36 I usually don't even notice anyone being "younger"or "older" than me. My closest friends range from 24 years old to 50-something years young and I don't even notice. I am more comfortable in my own skin (thanks to a fabulous trainer named Misty, years in the gym and a diligently patrolled diet), with who I am as a person and who we are as a married couple than I ever have been in the 14 years I've been with Zach.
In fact, it is the 14 years Zach and I have spent together and the feeling of comfort in who we are now as individuals and as a couple that made Zach and I realize earlier this year that we were finally ready to try and welcome another person into our little corner of the world. Lucky for us, we hit the baby lottery and now are expecting our first (oh, so planned and oh, so wanted) munchkin on or about February 14, 2012. The crazy part? The doctor's office refers to me as someone of "advanced maternal age."
I appreciate that you think I only look 32, but my eggs know they are 36.
How is it that we have responsibly waited until we were actually ready to be parents that won't raise a complete nut job and I am in what is supposed to be one of the most exciting times of my life that I am now so keenly aware and constantly reminded of how much "older" I am than the average woman in Nashville having her first child? Not that it bothers me, because it really doesn't. Heck, most people don't even know how old I am and I am not ashamed to admit my age and that it is my first child to anyone who asks.
No, what bothers the hell out of me is just the blasted term "advanced maternal age" and the fact that every pregnancy book, magazine and website define it as a woman giving birth to a child after the age of 35. Although they've gotten better about not trying to scare you completely to death, most materials still treat 35 as some magic number that signals the end of fertility, uncomplicated pregnancy and a dramatically decreased chance for a healthy delivery and a healthy baby. Turns out no matter how young you look, your eggs are your true biological age and there is no age defying treatment available for them.
Although it may be true that your eggs are older (they were older at 33 and 34 as well) and you may not get pregnant as quickly (you probably need to know when you ovulate and have lots of sex anyway) and yes, you have a slightly increased chance of a chromosomal abnormality after the age of 35 (so slight it should not even be a statistic), the fact remains that many women are choosing to start their families at a more "mature" age for a host of reasons. Many of us are in better shape than the 25 and 30 year olds having babies, we are more financially stable, more patient and honestly, we are going still going to make kick ass, hot Moms. More importantly, most women over 35 (hopefully including me) who don't have a family history of problems are having uncomplicated, healthy pregnancies and delivering healthy, happy babies that are going to be amazing little people running this country someday.
My super sweet male friend, "well, getting pregnant is the easy part." Hyper-sensitive, older Jen, "actually, no, that is not necessarily true."
The only downside to being 36 and having your first child? Too much institutional knowledge and it can make you crazy if you let it.
I remember the first time a friend confided in me that she had had a miscarriage. I was living in Chicago, I was 28 and she was 31. She was clearly still upset and I was completely floored. I had never known anyone who had had a miscarriage or any problem getting pregnant, or so I thought. That same friend had two more miscarriages before she and her husband were able to get pregnant and give birth to two beautiful childen - when she was 33 and again at 36. She was a lucky one. Sadly, it is so much more common than most people know.
Crazy that a 16 year old can get pregnant after one night of unprotected sex and then get pregnant again "accidentially," while so many amazing women in loving relationships around us struggle with fertility issues, suffer repeated miscarriages, premature births and even the devasting loss of a child. It is this institutional knowledge that is the major downside to being of an "advanced maternal age." It is these things I've seen that linger around the edges of my thoughts and often threaten to dampen the excitement of planning for our new family member. The questions are there. How did we get so lucky? Why are we different? Will everything be ok? It takes a heck of a lot of willpower to keep the crazy "what if" thoughts at bay, but I'm trying.
Would it be different if I was 25 or 30? Yes, I would probably not know about a triple screen or the odds of miscarriage with an amnioscientsis. However, at the end of the day, you could not pay me to be 25 again or even 30 again - "advanced maternal age" be damned.
