Sometimes I forget how old I am until I see a pair of perky 20-something moms pushing strollers along the street in cute little track suits that I have no business even pretending I could wear.
If I got pregnant today my child wouldn't be starting Junior Kindergarten until I was in my 40s.
A sobering thought indeed.
I won't be a young Mom. I know women are having children much later these days, and in fact the ER doctor who saw me while I was having my second miscarriage told me that the average age of first-time mothers is 33. That was great news at the time. I was 33.
But I'll be 36 the day after tomorrow.
I know that in many ways age is just a mindset. I've known old teenagers and young octogenarians. But the plain and simple fact is that being a mother is physically demanding work.
And I can barely stay up long enough to watch Saturday Night Live.
One of the reasons I'm attempting to lose weight is so that I'll hopefully have a safer, healthier pregnancy (if I ever manage to get pregnant again) but the other reason is that I'd like to be able to play with my child and do all the things those 20-somethings do with such apparent ease. Including squeezing into those annoyingly darling little track suits.
So I suppose since being a young mom is clearly no longer a goal within my reach, I'll have to settle for being a cool mom instead.
How unfortunate that I'm such a dork.
Maybe I lack youth and coolness, but what I do have is 20 hours worth of life lessons taught to me by my beautiful first-born son. I haven't forgotten what he gave me. He's not here to remind me of it every day, but I remember the feeling of loving someone more than life itself. I remember the exact moment I realized I loved him like I've never loved anyone before.
And that, I know for a fact, I can do again - no matter how old I am.