I Love Being An “Older Mom”

There were years when people questioned my timing.

“Why did you wait so long?”

“Your classmates have kids in college—yours isn’t even in middle school yet.”

But if I’d had her in my 20s, I know I would’ve felt trapped. Resentful. Lost.

I didn’t yet have the emotional bandwidth I needed for baby-led weaning, or the confidence to ignore the noise and trust my gut.

I wouldn’t have had the financial stability to stay home with her or the maturity to parent her as she truly was, not who I might have expected her to be.

At 36, I had experienced enough of life to slow down and be present. To choose presence. To raise her without following a formula.

She got the mom I was ready to be and one who’s evolving with her.

And for that, I’m endlessly grateful.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​