Been there, done that. Eldest two are in college, middle two are adolescents, youngest two are ages 2 and 5 weeks. I’m 42. The 2-year-old was a complete surprise, because my husband had been told by more than one doctor that he couldn’t father a child. I had just turned 40, and have had perimenopausal symptoms for a few years, and… really? A baby? I had mixed feelings, including the usual worries about her health, mine, whether we’d have the energy for a baby, etc. Tony had the same concerns, but he was thrilled, too. Ultimately, he left it up to me whether I thought I could handle another pregnancy. I could, and Lily is the most awesome little kid you’ve ever met: healthy, smart, funny, etc. But for the duration of my pregnancy, there was always the niggling voice in the back of my mind, wondering if I’d made the wrong decision.
When Lily was a few months old, we started wondering whether she needed a sibling who was a peer, instead of ones too old to have much in common. So, we decided, not to try for one more, necessarily, but not to try to prevent another, either. We gave ourselves a deadline of my upcoming birthday, after which we’d take permanent steps. Little Michelle was born 5 weeks ago, three weeks early but happy and healthy, after an uneventful pregnancy. And yes, we worried right up to the end, and Tony still keeps asking “is that normal?” about perfectly mundane things (Are her eyes supposed to cross like that? Shouldn’t she be doing x, y, or z by now?) But we’re thrilled, when we have a moment to reflect and haven’t dozed off mid-reflection.
So far, we’ve learned that we do have the energy, albeit not as much as we used to. And we both have tons more patience, and a little more wisdom than our younger selves.
And if I were a third party looking at our situation, I’d think we were out of our minds!