old enough to know better

Being a first time mom at 39 is a little strange, to put it mildly. I was way past the point where I assumed I would never have children. Or get married. When I did that two years ago you would think I might have reconsidered the kid thing, but in truth, I really didn't, at least not consciously. I would have been content to try a litter of puppies but it was clear CD thought kids would be a good idea. He's the smartest person I know, so when he has an idea, I try to pay attention.

Throughout my pregnancy I had the pleasure of being referred to as of "advanced maternal age". Insulting as it sounds, it does open the door to a few technological marvels. We knew the little parasite would be sporting "equipment" back in September when I was just 12 weeks along, courtesy of Chorionic Villus Sampling, or CVS. This was justified to my insurance company simply by declaring I was of advanced maternal age. It was like waving a magic wand.

The thought of having a baby a few months before my fortieth birthday seemed less scary over time. More and more women are having babies at 40 and beyond, and living to blog the tale. It was the idea of being 55 with a 15 year old that terrified me. This partly comes from growing up with an "older" father. He retired when I was 12 and passed away when I was 16. I would like my children to torment CD and me a good long time, and with any luck, make me a grandmother.

As I did, Oliver is growing up minus a few grandparents. Both of my grandmothers passed away before my second birthday so I don't remember them at all. My paternal grandfather died before my parents met. Only my maternal grandfather, from whom Oliver takes his middle name, was part of my life. I did not see him frequently but he made a strong impression. Oliver will know only grandmothers and one step-grandfather. He has not yet met his Granny who lives across the pond. We're working on it. Here's a picture of him in the hospital, with his Nana, as she wishes to be called.

If we decide to make a sibling for Oliver, and the jury is still very much out on that, it will have to be fairly soon. I better skip the ice cream tonight and pretend to be trying to lose that last five pounds.