Maiden, Mother, Not Quite Crone

by Nancy LaMar Rodgers

Maiden, Mother… Whoa-Not Quite Crone

Maiden, mother, cronePlanning to have a baby at 42 was, well, not in the plan.  It happened.  I thought I was in perimenopause, but alas, not so much.  My daughter was nine at the time and though we had tried while she was younger, it hadn’t happened and so we were a happy family of three.  I know for a fact that my son was supposed to come to me at age 42 even though I was not only unprepared, but more importantly, scared out of my wits.

Divine, Parental Intervention

I was 40 years old when we took my dad to live with us. We put an addition on the house.  I should have known it would turn into a metaphor.  Pops was great, but forgetful.  As an only child himself and then a father of eight, he had his own ideas about family.

“You know I was thinking kid, you might want to have another, being an only child is tough.”

And with that, my guilt would swell and I would clean the house. […]

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Getting On the Bus

by Maggie Lamond Simone

“So, is he ready to get on the bus?” my friend asked, knowing my son is starting kindergarten.  “And, more importantly, are you?”

“He sure is, but last I checked, I’m not getting on the bus!” I laughed, fully aware of her meaning but not quite prepared to answer.  What she meant, of course, was, am I ready for my son to get on the bus? And, of course, I’m not.  […]

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A Mid-Life’s Summer Night

by Lori Pelikan Strobel

sleepIt’s 10:30 p.m. The kitchen is cleaned, and the family room picked up. They are both ready for tomorrow’s life of meals, random newspaper circulars, and at least a dozen water glasses left half full lying around both rooms.

The dog, Louie, has been put out for the evening. We both climb the stairs to finally to go to sleep. My husband, already snoring peacefully, has his earphones on and plugged into his Ipad that is now flopped haphazardly onto his stomach. As Louie jumps onto the bed, I prepare my nightly ritual for sleep.

“Boy, it’s so hot in here.” I lower the thermostat before changing into my pajamas. I stare into my closet, trying to conjure an outfit I will wear to work tomorrow. Then, off to the bathroom I plod for the beauty regimen. Teeth brushed and flossed—check. Contacts out, eye make-up off, face washed—check. […]

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Reflections of a Stay-at-Home-Mom (SAHM)

by Melanie Elliott

SAHMI became a mom at 45.  It wasn’t by design.  I met my husband at 35, married at 38, and we tried to start a family six months after we married.  To our surprise, that was no easy task.

After three invitros, two inseminations, a frozen embryo transfer and after mixing in four years of acupuncture, various shamans and healers, along with several miscarriages and a too-long process to adopt a baby from China, we finally became parents six ½ years later when we brought our son home from Ethiopia in August 2010. […]

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Rescuing Julia Twice

by Tina Traster

Saving julia twiceDr. T couldn’t have been more pleased with Julia’s progress. At 18 months, my baby was in the 95th percentile for her weight. She was talking, walking, her muscle tone was excellent. All good signs for a child adopted just 14 months earlier from a Siberian orphanage.

Dr. T specializes in treating internationally-adopted children. During my daughter’s third well-visit, he recommended a second round of vaccines because he didn’t trust the ones she received in Russia. He asked me how Julia was eating, glancing over his bifocals to read her chart. I told him she’s on an organic, whole-foods, non-meat diet. He said, “good,” and with a kind glint in his eye, added, “She looks great. You’re doing a great job. Bring her back in six months.” […]

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My Two Dads (In Honor of Father’s Day)

by Maggie Lamond Simone

Me and Dad Me and Dad

You could say I always had suspicions.  The fact that they get along so well in and of itself was a tipoff, but true confirmation came the first time I saw my husband clean the house.  He was a man on a mission, determined to clean it like it had never been cleaned before . . . and convinced that it hadn’t been.

I found myself watching the whole scenario with my mother’s bemused expression and thought, “Oh . . . my . . . GOD.  I’ve married my father.”

Although I’m doing better with it as time goes on, I admit I saw many of the stages of grief when the similarities started becoming noticeable.  There was denial (“No. I’m imagining it.  He does not turn the TV up after I go to bed”), anger (“Okay, stop it! I mean it! Stop rearranging my counters!”), all the way to acceptance (“All right, honey.  We can leave for the show two hours early.”) […]

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10 Things Not to Say to a News Editor About Being an Older Mother

by Ellie Stoneley

newspaperThe media-led furore around older mothers rumbles on. Tabloid headlines inferring that the rise in mothers over the age of 50 having babies was responsible for excessive pressure across the health service. The percentage increase was huge but in real terms the number of women (in the UK) giving birth into their fifth decade went up to the total of 154 – a tiny figure as a part of the general rise in the number of births to older parents (35 and upwards).

When figures like this are published, I get approached by the press about my own experience as an older mother. My response is and has consistently the same – that I am where I am, and that I’m extremely blessed to be the mother of a wonderful, exuberant and thriving two-year-old. And, that (in common with mothers everywhere) I’m doing the best I can for my daughter to ensure she has a happy childhood, and a safe and secure future.

Sometimes that’s OK. But often the journalist will prod, looking for an angle, “How do you deal with the negative view of older parents?” “Did you feel judged by the medical profession?” “Are people rude to you when you breastfeed in public?” “You must have had a terribly difficult pregnancy?” “Do you have low energy levels due to your age?” and so on and so forth. […]

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Frumpy No More

by Deatra Haime Anderson

Deatra's bitstrip Deatra’s bitstrip

When I got married 10 years ago, I moved from New York City to a rural little upstate village where a livestock feed store is the main attraction. I brought with me my nearly life-long fashion sensibility and tried, in vain, to keep rocking my 3-inch stilettos, wedge heels and tight jeans. I hobbled along, even in the grocery store, where I ignored the sidelong glances from women dressed in (what looked like to me) pajama bottoms and shoes I’d wear as slippers.

And then I got pregnant. And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I stopped holding in my stomach and discovered the mind-blowing comfort of elastic-waist pants. Part of the reason I loved being pregnant, besides the absolute joy of growing my daughter, was being able to wear whatever I wanted and not caring one single bit about my protruding belly. I put away my high-heeled shoes and strutted around in slides and flip flops. I wore my husband’s old button-down shirts and t-shirts and happily tossed on grandpa cardigans when I was chilly. I never felt freer or more comfortable in my life – it was glorious. […]

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Stand and Be Recognized

by Jane Samuel

It’s that time of year again. Time to recognize our mothers.  To make them breakfast in bed, buy them expensive cards, mold clay into indiscernible lumpish presents at preschool, take them to tea or brunch or dinner, to kiss them, hug them, honor them.

But in my Momma heart it is time to fully consider them. To not only parade around and polish the shiny head’s side of the motherhood coin, but to turn it and look at its tail side too. To ask, and answer, something that perhaps we don’t consider enough – when is a woman a mother? […]

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