My 15-year-old son brings up my age fairly often, probably because many of his friends have much younger parents than me, reminding him how old I really am. When he does, he usually says something like, “I wish you were younger. By the time I have a family, you’ll be too old to have fun with my kids, or help with babysitting, or watch them grow up. You might not even be around to meet them if I don’t get married until I’m much older.”
It breaks my heart to have my son share his concerns, to know he worries about these things because of my age. I know he thinks about this often, wondering how long he’ll have his parents around after he’s grown and builds a life of his own.
I understand all too well about his feelings, because I have them too.
I often wonder how old I’ll be when I get to witness him saying his sacred vows to his forever bride. I often wonder how old I’ll be when they have their first baby or their second, or third maybe? Will I inevitably be “Too old to have fun with my grandkids or help with babysitting, or even be around to meet them?” I don’t know for sure, but these questions haunt me, as the reality of my age sinks in more and more every day.
When most of my friends were getting married, I was the one catching the bouquet. When those same friends were having babies, I was still wondering when or even if I would ever have a wedding day. When most of my friends were in the trenches of parenting, I was (finally!) saying “I do” to my one and only. When most of my friends were launching their kids out into the world, I was welcoming mine in.
Those same friends are now reaping the rewards of their hard work in raising their kids, enjoying their children’s families, and celebrating all the opportunities that having grown-up kids brings. While they are experiencing all the joys of being grandparents, I am buried in the daily duties of parenting. While they are embracing the freedom that comes with their empty-nest season, I am treading the tough terrain of raising two teens. My best friend has a granddaughter the same age as my son, and we laugh about how crazy this is, how different our lives are in so many ways.
At times I wonder what it would have been like if my husband and I met several years earlier and started a family when we were young. There are times, the thought of not being here to witness these babies of mine create a life of their own brings me to my knees in deep grief thinking about all I might miss. There are moments I’m filled with an uneasy fear that my kids will have the heavy burden of taking care of their parents while they are overwhelmed with managing their careers and their kids.
My husband and I crunched the numbers, we knew what we were in for, and we faced the reality that being older parents would have its challenges. But this timeline was out of our control. It took a while to find each other and longer still, to have our kids. I look back and realize I was nowhere near ready to get married until that time. I had a lot of growing up to do before I would be ready to commit to spending a lifetime with someone, much less carry out the hard and often sacrificial work of raising kids.