Elderly Primigravida. Sounds kind of intimidating and a little scary. Me, elderly? Common! But that's the category I fall into with my first pregnancy. I was 35 at conception and I'm turning 36 during my pregnancy.
Apparently, even in today's medical world, this is still enough to warrant an added sense of urgency to my prenatal care. To translate the Latin terminology into plain preggers speak, I'm an old lady having my first kid after 35.
True, I've been accused (mostly by the elders) of being wise beyond my years, although I suspect they, too, might think I'm a spring chicken and not at all 36.
As I look at a sheet of test results from my obstetrician, I want to argue and protest, "But I'm fit and healthy and not elderly at all! I feel so much younger than what my birth date adds up to!"
I know, I know! Some of you might say I'm in denial but I beg to differ.
I used to take myself way too seriously back in my early 20's. In retrospect, it was bordering on ridiculous. In my college days, as a nanny, I used to look at women who had their first children in their mid-to-late 30's and wonder how that was even possible. They seemed so old for babies!
I stopped that whole taking-myself-seriously nonsense around the time I was 27. That's when I got divorced from my first husband and my world, including my absurd view of myself, got carried away in a whirlwind of change.
Talk about being in denial! I was in a dysfunctional relationship with an emotionally unavailable man and yet I refused to admit that the relationship had absolutely no business staying alive. I thought I was the mature one in that relationship and knew better. I thought I could change my husband and so fought for it. Silly girl!
Oh, I was so angry for so long...
Eventually, as I progressed through the appropriate stages of grief and my anger slowly subsided, I came to realize that the change was for the better. The best thing of all is that I didn't have children with that man. That, in itself, was a blessing.
I gained the freedom to discover who I really was and which direction I wanted to take in life. This included making a long list of traits and attributes I wasn't willing to put up with in my future partner-mate.
I wasn't in a rush. I rebounded. I lived as a single unattached lady and discovered how gratifying true independence can be. I didn't have to be responsible for anyone else's actions but my own. I shopped and cooked for one and ate whatever I wanted. I could stay up into the wee hours and run around buck naked in my apartment.
I thoroughly indulged in my singleton life. When I was ready, I joined Chemistry.com and started dating for the first time in my life.
Three years after my divorce was final, just as I was almost completely fed up with the whole online dating scene, I gave it one last shot before going on a cleansing hiatus from what was a run of dates that ranged from just okay with no sparks to mediocre to horrifying.
In October of 2010, I went on that last-chance date and ended up meeting the man who would become my husband.
There was no rush. I was 32 and really happy. I knew the consequences of rushing into things. The only relationship I was interested in would be mature and reciprocal, healthy and respectful. I wanted a real connection with a genuinely mature man. Nothing less would do.
And that's how I ended up here, post-35 and pregnant with my first baby.
The first time I saw this diagnosis in my paperwork, it took me by surprise. Me, elderly? No way! But now I don't care. With the best prenatal care NYC has to offer and our fingers crossed, my husband and I are anticipating our little guy's arrival in September.
They can put whatever labels they want on me. As long as I feel like a young and strong mama, I shall remain in good spirits and continue to be healthy, fit and happy for my baby.
Natalia lives in NYC and writes about women's lifestyle, getting and staying fit, healthy nutrition, pregnancy and other random thoughts and events. You can find her at Sassterhood.com and CoachNatalia.com.
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