OLDER PARENTS v YOUNGER PARENTS

 When I was pregnant with my Son, I was told to my astonishment, that I was considered an old Mother. I was 28. Yes, really a perfect age in my opinion. Not too old to suffer from ailments and have a child who would be constantly worrying about his Mum dying and old enough to have a house and savings. I had been married for ten years. We had done the holiday scene and outings with friends. I was ready to give my time now to my child.

 

The Mothers, who were not made to feel alienated, were the sixteen year olds who during the time I was in hospital post giving birth, stood outside my door to gather as it was near the exit. They met for their break to smoke. They had given their commands to the nurses to look after their babies and whilst waiting for the rest of the young Mothers to congregate, they would discuss who was keeping theirs, and who was “Getting rid of!”

 

The pain I suffered in there was dreadful. Lying with my new born in my arms. In a room of brown fog. As when I had my baby, the trauma of it all seriously affected my eyesight for a week at least. I saw everything but as though looking through sun glasses. Everything had a film of brown mud on it. A filter of distress.

 

My innocent baby lay close to me. I broke my heart as I thought back to the oven that gave birth to me who coldly rejected me as soon as she could. How could she do this? Hearing the cold calculating cross words from the youths outside of my room. Brought back my own existence.

 

I was so alone. My parents couldn’t get out of the house without my ex Husband bringing them and my ex was either working or playing. Let’s say he wasn’t a devoted Husband or ever devoted Father. Thankfully he is so much better now towards my boy.

 

So hours alone. I didn’t have a clue what to do with a baby. How to look after one. When my youngest Niece was a baby, I was at boarding school. There were no babies in our family.

 

I had one friend at that time. My one friend was in Russia. I had not been out of the house on my own in years. All I knew was I adored and lived for my Son. I felt the pain in that room what I had been going through for my twenty odd years. No way would my Son ever feel like that. I wanted to choke those girls and say to them, their babies didn’t ask to be born. Now they were, they were going to be rejected. Did they know how those babies would feel growing up? The nights of pain and nightmares. The constant fear of being stolen by their natural parents? Would they like me be given to older parents?

 

Which brings me onto this subject? My parents were old. So old that I have been without them since my Son was one. Since I was almost thirty. Too young to lose parents.

 

When I was a very small child, I truly suffered at bedtime wondering if my parents would die through the night. There was a gap of forty and forty-seven years.

 

I grew up with my Mum always being ill. Needing tablets. My Dad was grey before his time and he had two major accidents in his life which lead to him being hospitalised for months. One time almost dying. When I was at school, I lay in bed with a lump in my throat. Trying hard not to cry to wake up the girls in my dorm. I missed them so much. I worried about them and then I had the shame of friends at school asking me if they were my Grandparents. You knew your parents were different. My friends had Mums and Dads so much younger than mine. But I loved them more for it. Though so wish they had been younger. But I was adopted so those who wish to adopt, normally try for their own children for years before realising there is something not right. By the time they adopt, they are older. There should be a cut off period. Having said that, my parents had more love in their little fingers than any parents I knew of as a child.

Age doesn’t stop you from loving but it does stop life. It was like being brought up by Grandparents and that is another subject. I knew my Nana until I was fifteen but as for the other three Grandparents? They were long gone before I was of an age when I could benefit from them.

 

Sadly my Son was the same. Because my parents died when my boy was one, and my ex’s parents didn’t want to know. They didn’t even want to know my ex., so his child has no chance.

 

So as the generations build down the line, they all somehow suffer.

 

I was a good age. I am sure I was, but my parents weren’t so my child followed my life. I had no money to look after my baby when I was younger and because I am the kind of Mother who is devoted to her child, I wouldn’t ever leave him to be looked after by another, so my limited life I had would have been lesser.

 

I know someone who is an old Father but who has a young wife. He obviously loves his new-born. But fast forward some years and his child will be infected by sadness prematurely.

 

What a bourdon to place on someone? I am sure that older parents are more loving but the practicality of it all doesn’t benefit the child.

 

I know children who are born to older parents and they are so much nicer and tolerant than those who are born to young parents. The children with elderly parents have more morals. So a better person will come out of it for sure. But not a happier child.

 

Sometime when I see old parents with babies I feel sad and feel like the parents have been selfish. Even now I suffer with the loss of my Mother. I now wish to be loved and cared for in a way that only a Mother can care for their child. When I am having problems with my Son, I have no one to turn to to ask advice. You know when you need a mother’s word?

 

It hurts.