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| The author became a mom in her late 40s. Courtesy of Liz Walton |
Becoming a mother wasn’t just a milestone for me — it was the culmination of a decade-long journey that tested my patience, resilience, and hope. I didn’t hold my daughter in my arms until I was 46 years old, and in many ways, I believe my age was a gift. By the time she arrived, I had grown into the best version of myself — the woman and mother I was meant to be.
A Long and Winding Road to Motherhood
My path to pregnancy began at 36, when I started IVF treatments. Six rounds. Six heartbreaks. None of them worked.
The disappointment was magnified when my sister-in-law became pregnant from her first round of IVF. I was happy for her, but inside, I was crushed. I had run out of both money and options, and my dream of becoming a parent seemed to be slipping away.
I knew I had to find a way to let go. So, I threw myself into inner work. I stopped drinking and smoking. I reconnected with my husband, to whom I had unfairly directed anger because his anti-sperm antibodies made conceiving difficult. Slowly, I began to heal emotionally, accepting that motherhood might not be in my future.
A Miracle at 46
When I turned 46, I thought I was heading into menopause. I was exhausted, my body felt off, and pregnancy was the last thing on my mind. But when I went to the doctor, I was told something I never expected: I was pregnant. Naturally.
It felt like the universe had stepped in when I had finally surrendered control. I can’t help but believe that letting go of the stress and pressure — and focusing on my health and happiness — played a part in this miracle.
Facing the Unknown
At my 12-week scan, the joy was tempered with fear. My doctor told me there was too much fluid in the womb, and my baby might not survive. Even if she did, there was a high chance she could have chromosomal issues like Down syndrome.
I cried until I had no tears left. Then I made a choice — to love my baby no matter what, to keep my stress low, and to accept the uncertainty.
When my daughter, Willow, was born healthy, it felt like the universe had given me a second miracle.
Life as an Older Mom
Now 55, I’m one of the oldest moms at the school pick-up — often 15 years older than the others. I notice the difference, but I also see the benefits.
I bring decades of life experience and emotional maturity to parenting. My years of introspection, coupled with my long fertility journey, have made me more grounded, patient, and self-aware than I was in my younger years. I’ve built a career as a fertility coach, using my story to help others facing similar struggles.
That’s not to say it’s without challenges. Willow is a whirlwind of energy — she loves cycling, running, and being constantly on the go. I have to be strategic with my energy, planning “play dates” with her and balancing rest with activity. But I’ve learned that exhaustion isn’t unique to older moms. My younger friends, who are juggling full-time work and parenting, often tell me they’re just as tired.
A Mother to Other Mothers
One of the unexpected gifts of becoming a mom later in life is how it’s shaped my role in the school community. When younger moms seem overwhelmed, I check in with them. I’ve become a kind of “all-around mom” — not just to Willow, but to others who need support. I help organize, connect people, and make sure no one feels alone.
Navigating Loss Together
Earlier this year, Willow’s last living grandparent — my husband’s mother — passed away. She looked at me with a sadness beyond her years and said, “I don’t have any grandparents left.”
That conversation opened the door to talking about life cycles, grief, and acceptance. While it’s true she has faced loss earlier than many of her peers, it’s also given her an emotional strength and empathy that I admire. I’ve taught her that every path in life is unique, and she has taught me that acceptance can be a gift.
Passing the Torch
I see my role now as raising Willow to become her own best self. I want her to have a strong voice, to stand up when something isn’t right, and to find the moments — the “glimmers” — that bring her joy and turn them into strengths.
My journey to motherhood made me the best version of myself. Now my purpose is to help Willow become the best version of herself.
If she can do that, then my age won’t matter. I’ll have done my job as a parent — and as a person.
