Growing up, my mother’s advice about having children was simple: have them while your body is “still fresh.” She spoke about a woman’s eggs “expiring” rather quickly, and the consensus was that your 20s were the prime years for motherhood.
When I married my husband at 26, the pressure was on. “Have your babies and be done,” everyone said. I took that advice to heart, having three children in four years. After that, I was certain I was done.
For the next two decades, I focused on raising my kids. I used various contraceptives over the years, but by the time I was 48, I was tired of the side effects. I figured I was close to menopause and wouldn’t need them anymore.
I was wrong!
A few months shy of my 50th birthday, I saw two pink lines on a test strip. My husband thought I was playing a prank on him until the ultrasound confirmed it. My oldest daughter, then 23 and recently engaged, just laughed. Hard.
Now, at doctor’s appointments, I often catch the side-eye. The look says it all: “What on earth were you thinking, getting pregnant at your age?”
So here I am, 51, with a newborn baby. My back aches, and the question “How did I get here?” echoes in my mind. It turns out nobody talks about just how easy it can be to get pregnant, even when you think you’re past your prime.
