Hear that, and I admit, go through spells (kids ment'd).

Including yesterday, when I'm convinced it was just plain wrong of me to have had my twins at 48. And that's even though my own father was 51 when I was born, my mom was almost 39, pretty ancient for pre-ART days, and I wasn't their last child. I know that most of the dire predictions about kids of older parents are complete humbug, because I was that child, but I can't get over the anxiety that Fred and Bob will be embarrassed about how old I will look, whether I will die before they're grown, etc.

And I'd say, don't worry about it. Remember, a lot of the cultural displacement you feel is based on norms that are really quite recent, though most of our population doesn't understand that. And I think that's why my parents didn't seem (at least to me) to experience a lot of the discomfort we do -- they grew up in era before television informed us who and how we should be. They grew up before WWII created this notion of us participating in life in the same ways at the same time and moving through our lives in generational ranks lock step. They grew up before reliable birth control was available to help women not become mothers at older ages (my father's first wife had her last child at age 46 or 47). They grew up before there was this expectation that one's parents would live into their children's middle age and even senior years (and why are people so convinced this is a great thing?). They grew up before our celebrity-obsessed mass media created the expectation that parents should look young 'n' hot.

So, please don't let those doubts deprive you of the joy of motherhood. I have had to toughen my skin and ignore the stares I get sometimes, but mostly people are just staring at my beautiful boys, and I figure those are the people who count. Take care, Maggie (in VA)