I became a new mother at the age of 38. Becoming a first time parent at an older age has its benefits and its drawbacks. All in all it’s pretty good. But it’s when I start to do the math that things get a little scary for me.
By the time my daughter graduates high school I will be 57 years old. Ok, that’s not so bad. I won’t be the youngest mother of her peers but judging by currents trends really won’t be that far off. We aren’t the only parents who waited a little longer to start our family.
But what about the milestones beyond that? How old will she be when (and of course if) she gets married and decides to have children of her own? Will I still be around and healthy enough to be there for her? These things frighten me.
My mother has not been around for a lot of big things in my life (by choice) and I know how hard that is. My daughter is now three and likes to imagine about things like getting married and being a mommy. She talks about it, she asks questions, she dreams. And of course I dream too. I dream about all of the things she will do her in life. Maybe she will get married, maybe she won’t. Maybe she will be a mother, maybe she won’t. Wherever her dreams end up taking her I want to be there, to share them with her. To help pick her up when she needs it. To celebrate her accomplishments. To see all of the things, good and bad, that this amazing little girl will do and become. Her potential has no bounds.
There are so many unknowns, but there is one thing I know for sure – she will always be my little girl and she will always need her mommy, even the times she won’t admit it.