Advanced maternal age. Ack.

On August 16, 2007, two months and one week after we got married, I took a pregnancy test. Although I had taken dozens of these before, not believing the positive results twice in my life, I still had to call the daggum 800-number. One clearly visible pink line, and one, not-so-confident faint pink line. Boy, if that faint little pink line knew the little girl it would represent, it would have stood up on that stick, donned a stove-pipe hat and cane, and sang, "Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You're pregnant with ME, mommy!"

I was sooooo excited. I was in fact, SO excited, that although I had planned all sorts of romantic, cute, clever ways to tell Charlie and the girls, as soon as Charlie walked in the door - before he could even put down his briefcase, I blurted out, "I'm pregnant!" No, "Hi, honey, how was your day?" No, I went straight for the main point. We did it! What a dinner conversation we had!

My excitement came to a temporary, screeching, halt at my first doctor's appointment. "ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE." I'm sorry, WHAT did you say? Huh? I'm only 37! I'm still young! I dated 20-somethings before Charlie! I may be ADVANCED in somethings, like say, using my toes to pick up stuff, like doing the Cameron Diaz "butt-thing" my kids are always bragging to their friends about, like knowing how to use power tools. But in AGE?!?!?!?!?!

Man, oh man. What a downer. Pregnancy was certainly different this time around, but I certainly didn't think it warranted a nasty name-calling like I got during every pre-natal appointment for 8 months! And, man, the day of her birth I must have heard it every hour on the hour!

So, this past Wednesday night, when Charlie came home from work, me and Peanut were upstairs in my office - I was attempting to work. He yelled up, "Hello? Where's my sweetie and the Nut?" I answered him and swooped up Anna to head downstairs to greet my man. Then, @#$@^!!!!!! Ouch! A pinch in my neck. Ugh, I thought as I neared the top of the stairs heading down, I'm gonna have a crick in my neck! Well, by the time I made it to the bottom, I was afraid I was going to drop my sweet little Nut.

Not going to bore you with the complaining and medication and rest and shiatsu massage chair attempts to save my back. But, dang it! As I was in the car last night, my mother driving me to the massage therapist because I had taken a muscle relaxer and couldn't drive, it slammed me in the face. Those three freakin' words: ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE. Yeah. NOW, is the time I think they should apply. Now is when it is really hitting home. That although yes, I am still young in relation to others in life, I am in fact, an older mom.

I go to bed much earlier than I used to. I have way less energy, patience, and stretch in my belly-skin. I do wonder, as I think I've already said before, "What the heck was I thinking?" But, I have to say, Anna may still be getting my best. I have chilled out quite a bit from my anal-retentive twenty-something self. Life has made me more forgiving and less judgmental. I do let most of the "small stuff" go. I do know that if my kids go crazy one day, that it could possibly be their own decisions and not necessarily a result of something I did wrong as a parent.

So, take that, doctors! "I am of advanced maternal age, and I'm proud!" AMA mothers unite!