Hello, my friends! I feel privileged to share a piece of my heart with you today. Yes, you read that correctly; I’m a 50-year-old mother to a vivacious seven-year-old boy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve long wanted to talk about this unique journey of motherhood that at 50 I am still raising a seven-year-old little boy and I am doing it alone. Yes, I proudly wear the badge of a single mother, and I’ve been doing so since the beginning. It seems luck hasn’t always been on my side when it comes to the husband/partner department, but you know what? I consider myself immensely fortunate with my kids. You see, I’ve already had the privilege of raising three incredible kids who’ve grown into adults I’m incredibly proud of. Two have flown the nest, clutching PhDs in their hands, (Gabie, my daughter from UCM to Rutgers to Dartmouth University, and Grant my son from UCSB to ISU) while the other (Grey, my son CSUN) is flourishing in his professional life. I couldn’t be prouder, and my heart swells with joy every time I think of their achievements.
Almost eight years ago, the prospect of motherhood at 42 both thrilled and terrified me. The thought of starting anew with a precious little one in tow, at an age when many might be considering too late. But isn’t that what life’s all about—embracing the unexpected and turning it into something beautiful? Which I believe I did.
Taken a couple of days at JC Penney Portraits before I gave birth.
But, my journey, while unconventional, difficult, scary, full of pain, and tears (why? I’ll tell you about it later in another post maybe) has been filled with pure love, laughter, and countless cherished moments.
When I was pregnant. I had a hard time processing my situation. At 42 I find myself bringing yet another life after 18 years. Not to mention I was in an unhappy relationship. (Got out of it, and the happiest I’ve ever been) and the only thing that matters is me and the little precious boy inside me. Although I was feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of what lay ahead. The prospect of motherhood at 42 seemed insurmountable. I cried on most nights until I was already almost five months pregnant. Scared and confused. The thought of starting all over again and the weight of uncertainty looms in my heart and my head. But then, in the midst of my turmoil, someone shared a piece of wisdom that would change the course of my journey: “If you keep on thinking your situation is a burden, then you will never be happy.”
Those words struck me. It was a wake-up call, a moment of clarity that pierced through the darkness. I realized that I needed to shift my perspective. I needed to let go of the fear and doubt that had consumed me and focus on the tiny life growing inside me, a little bean who deserved a world filled with love and happiness. Regardless of the circumstances, I had unwavering faith in God. It was this faith that became my anchor during the storm. My child is a precious gift, and I was determined to give him the best life possible. After all, I had raised three children on my own before, and they had grown into remarkable adults. If I could do it then, then I could do it again.
Fast forward, and I gave birth to the most beautiful boy. Bradley, my baba. Held him in my arms. And made me fall in love infinitely. (Btw, I gave a natural birth, it was too late for epidural. ;( and the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced) Bradley, was my silent wishful thinking years ago. And then, life was never the same again.
And there he is, the love of my life, my constant, my strength. The reason I’m standing and fighting every day. This little boy forever changed my life and perspective. The moment I held him in my arms, I knew that I could do anything. The sleepless nights, the worries, the tiredness, the pain, uncertainty, the tears and fear just vanished. And all I have is hope. Hope and overflowing love.
Time gracefully dances and passes by, with my son by my side. Raising him alone, providing, supporting my little boy solely on my own. Protect him to those who wants to hurt him. It wasn’t easy but when you’re a mother the impossible becomes a mere challenge. You can be a mama bear, an octopus mom who can carry anything and everything even with just two hands. Day by day I embraced the new beginnings of being a mother again after almost 19 years. And it grew on me just like riding a bike. But then again, when you’re a mother, we never really forget it. Do we? No matter where life’s journey takes us, we are, and always will be a mother.
I remember this one night, that is still so vivid in my mind, something that I will never forget for as long as I live. A few months after my little boy was born, as I was putting him to sleep. Again, I began to wonder why God allowed me to have this little boy at this point in my life. Sometimes, that thought keeps creeping in. I asked why? There is still that question lingering. And in the stillness of that moment, believe it or not. I got my answer. It is as if He talked to me and whispered – ” Because I want you to be happy.” And at that exact moment, something resonated deep within my soul. Tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my cheeks nonstop. It’s like I was touched, and I felt that calmness, that serene. There is happiness, content, peace and love, in my heart. From then on, I never questioned it again. I am just grateful to be blessed with one of the greatest blessings I could ever have.
Twenty years ago, if someone had told me I’d be starting over, I would have laughed. Life had a different plan, though—one filled with unexpected miracles. The most significant of these is my little boy. He’s the shining star in my life, a bundle of energy and enthusiasm who keeps me on my toes and fills my days with wonder. But don’t get me wrong it’s not always a walk in the park.
There are moments that are positively exhausting—the sleepless nights that stretch into a hazy dawn, the persistent worry that lingers in the corners of your mind like a shadow, the intricate plans for education and future dreams, the nagging doubt that wonders if you’re doing enough. It’s the rollercoaster of emotions that comes with parenthood, a blend of love, concern, and an unwavering commitment to nurturing a precious life. And then there are those heart-wrenching moments when your little one falls ill, (my son has severe asthma) and you’d give anything to bear their suffering. It’s the late-night vigils, the soothing whispers of comfort, and the silent prayers that fill the air. In these moments, you realize that motherhood is not just about holding their hand when the sun is shining; it’s about being their anchor when the storms roll in. And the truth is, sometimes I get tired. Like every mother. But do we give up? No. It’s not in our DNA as mothers.
I am not perfect. I make mistakes. In fact, I made a lot of mistakes even at 50. But I can’t give up nor I will give up. My son who was in and out of ER units growing up because of severe asthma taught me how to be resilient, to be strong even at this age. Because he needs me. After all, I am all he’s got.
Time is fleeting, everything is fleeting. In the blink of an eye, my little bean of a boy, Bradley, is turning eight, and it’s as if the hands of time have danced away from my grasp. I often asked, where did time go? How did I do it? I am not sure, but I did what I have to do with love, faith and perseverance. And through it all, I have been blessed with the steadfast support of my family, especially my older children.
Now I’m 50, with a 7-year-old in tow. And I am still at the happiest point in my life. But, what’s the secret to thriving in motherhood at 50? — It’s a blend of resilience, a hearty sense of humor, and an abundance of love. Sure, those sleepless nights are a bit different now, and the morning routine may include packing school lunches alongside making sure he has what he needs for school that day while doing my own thing as well, but the magic remains. Always.
The tantrums and tears, well, they’ve become opportunities for growth—for both of us. Patience and wisdom have found their way into my heart, and I treasure every moment of this incredible journey. Knowing I cannot hold onto every moment, but I try to not take any moment for granted. It’s not just about guiding my son; it’s about rediscovering myself and finding new layers of love and strength within.
So, to all the late bloomers out there, be it in motherhood at 40 or 50 or any other life adventure, please don’t be afraid. Know this: Age is just a number, but love knows no bounds. Life has its own timeline, and sometimes, the best surprises come when you least expect them. It takes a shift in perspective, a leap of faith, and a whole lot of love.
As I reflect on this beautiful journey of motherhood at 50, let me also say, Advanced Happy, happy 8th birthday to my little boy Bradley. Mama, hopes and pray that one day you’ll be able to see and read this, and I hope you’ll know in your heart how much I love you with all my heart, and with my whole being.
I’m filled with gratitude for the gift of my little boy. Who came at a time that I thought everything was done for me, but turned out and has proven to be the most perfect and destined moment of my life. He’s my daily reminder that love knows no age, and life is a glorious tapestry woven with the threads of laughter, tears, and unending love. And on that note, to anyone reading this, I wish that you, too, may experience this profound kind of love within your lives. And if, by chance, it has yet to find its way to you, I hold hope that one day, you will find it and embrace this beautiful love, of a mother to her child, just as I have been fortunate to do.