Recently I discovered some fun news. I’m going to add another baby to my already chaotic tribe. Whoop whoop!
This little guy or gal will be baby #3 for me, but it’s been a while between births. Baby #1 is already 8 (HOW??) and Baby #2, nearly 6.
After celebrating the news with my partner (AKA watching him drink a bottle of champagne while I threw up), I headed to my doctor to share my positive pee stick joy. It’s there I discovered some even more exciting news.
Turns out, I am part of an elite pregnancy classification that I’ve never been akin to before, known as the “advanced maternal aged mum” group.
“Advanced maternal age?” I ask with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
I used to be in the “advanced” readers’ group in grade school. Is this sort of the same? Do me and the other advanced pregnant mums get to meet after school on Mondays to read Shakespeare? Or talk about how many times we accidentally wet ourselves last week?
No. Advanced maternal age doesn’t involve Shakespeare. It’s basically just a nice way of saying I’m old AF. Geriatric even. Oh, and pregnant.
Grab the Cane! Geriatric Mum on the Loose
Yes, apparently, once you reach a certain age, you become advanced at motherhood. I always assumed that age would be around the 50, maybe 60 marker. But nope. It’s not. It’s much younger.
Well, in my doctor’s clinic it is at least.
34, Pregnant and Advanced
The thing is, I’m actually not that advanced. I’m not even 35. I’m 32. Okay. 33. 34. But I just turned 34. So I’m a super young, non-advanced 34.
This pregnancy doesn’t seem too ‘advanced’ either. In fact, I think I might be less prepared than I was with my first two. Which I didn’t even think was possible.
But the world is crazier now than six years ago when I was last pregnant. Now, there’s new rules and new tests and new studies that basically suggest if you’re pregnant, you’re officially a pin cushion who can only drink water and eat bacon. Actually, bacon might be off-limits too. I can’t bloody remember anymore.
The Age of Experience
When I had my first baby I was in the Young Dumb Maternal Age of 25 group. I miss that group. It was fun. I was as naïve as they come. I didn’t know about miscarriage rates or deli meat risks. I ate all the deli meat. So. Much. Deli. Meat.
I wasn’t aware there was such a stigma surrounding how you feed your baby or how you choose to sleep. I was simply growing a child and sleeping a lot. Because you can do that when it’s for first baby.
Now… HA! Well, now that I’m old AF and geriatric, I don’t have the luxury of knowing nothing and sleeping the pregnancy away. I’m advanced, after all. Instead I have to hurl my advanced body out of bed to attend dance rehearsals, make school lunches and bribe my son to do his homework.
My advanced body hates me for putting it through this again. But I don’t give a shit. Sorry advanced body, whether you like it or not, you’re growing this baby. And you’re not going to give up, like my bladder already has.
Advanced Maternal Age for the Win!
But, you know what? It’s not all that bad having a geriatric pregnancy.
There’s actually some pretty awesome advantages to being advanced.
First, I got bulk billed on my nuchal translucency test, saving me around $160. Which I used to buy a pair of compression socks for my super swollen legs. Oh, and bacon.
Plus, people don’t seem to share their dumb advice with me as much as with my previous two pregnancies.
Oh, you’re pregnant again. Oh, but this time you’re old. And you already have two children hanging from your withered body. You don’t need my outdated advice. You’ve got this.
Being “advanced” also gives me the confidence that I might actually know what I’m doing this time around.
Sure, things have changed a lot since my last pregnancy, but the whole ‘pushing baby out’ concept remains the same.
I mean, this is Baby #3. I should have figured it out by now, right?
No. Not even close. But, hell, I’m advanced now. I can fake it.
Considering going for another baby making round? Join me. Bring your cane and dentures. And have a read of our checklist to see if you’re ready for another bub.