An elderly primigravida is what the medical community terms a new, first time mom (primigravida) over the age of 35 (elderly). I was actually 43 when I became pregnant with and delivered my beautiful baby boy. Now I’m 45 with a two year old.

40. Is. Not. Old.

First – to address the elephant in the room – 40 is not old. I mean, yeah, I haven’t slept in almost three years so I’m tired all the time. But I don’t feel old. When I was young and stupid, I thought 30 was old. Gah, can you imagine? But to those snickering at me and my age, you can shove it. I’m doing just fine.

You know how after you get a new car – you start seeing all the cars like yours? Once I became pregnant, I started noticing just how many women my age are having babies. And how many always have been. My aunt, for example, had her first at 35 and second at 40. And that was almost 40 years ago! My sitter’s Mom? Baby at 40. My new OB/GYN? Baby at 45. WE ARE EVERYWHERE!

My specialist’s office said the fastest growing segment of their clinic was women over 35. But of course, they still don’t know to treat us, per se. What they did was equate me to someone with diabetes, but I digress.

Being Older When Having a Child Doesn’t Necessarily Mean the Mom Waited for “A Better Time” to Have a Child

Second – being over 40 doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve got everything together. That’s what some families do, right? Wait until they’re older to have a family so they’re more stable. That wasn’t necessarily our plan. I mean, we’re not doing bad, but we’re not even approaching ideal. We’ve suffered downsizings, economic downturns, having to relocate. We’re making it. We don’t have family nearby to help us out, so we do what we have to. We work hard. We appreciate everything we’ve got. We have faith. We love fiercely.

And this isn’t a new marriage later in life; we had been married for almost 20 years when our bundle came along.

I expected a lot of judgment. I’m from a small town. Girls I went to high school with now have grandchildren. I expected a lot of judgment, and I got it. 

And I know the arguments. I’ll be too old to play with him. I’ll feel out of place around the other moms. I will in some way let him down. I am selfish. I have lost my ever loving mind. I say eff all of that. What I will give him is my all. What I will give him is love.

My Time. My Blessing.

What it comes down to is simple. I’m older. I’ve been married a long time. I’m sort of semi stable. But it was essentially MY time. I was so incredibly blessed to have a beautiful baby boy, no matter my age or relationship status or environment. I was blessed to be fortunate enough to be able to have him on our own with no treatments. I was blessed to be able to carry him to term. I was blessed. I’m not saying there weren’t any issues along the way. And there were certainly some after, but I WAS BLESSED. So very much so.

And it has already been a liberating experience. Like I said, I expected a lot of judgment. But I didn’t expect to not care as much about the judgment. And I love doing a mental fist bump with every pregnant/new momma I saw at a ripe old age like mine. Do you know how awesome you are?! 
But here’s one of the biggest things – I’ve had countless women say that I am giving them hope. Maybe they aren’t married yet, but the clock is ticking. Maybe they haven’t been able to conceive, but they have faith. Maybe they are ready to give up. But they see me and hear our story, and it gives them hope. And that makes me so incredibly joyous.

So here we are. My name is Sheila, and I’m an elderly primigravida.