My friend had her first baby at forty-three after about 10 years of trying to conceive, several miscarriages and one baby that had to be aborted due to fetal hydrocephalus that had already eaten the 4 month fetus’ brain away.  I totally understand her over-zealousness in trying to make everything perfect right down to the cradle bedding sets.  And she wanted things more than perfect:  she wanted them unique, she wanted them educational-mostly I think, she was trying to feed her own heart from those years of emptiness.

 For instance, it wasn’t enough to just get baby boy bedding; she needed African figures all over everything, which was hard for the rest of us shopping for her shower to find.  But it was all good.

I think she read every scrap of paper ever written about child-rearing, and now that they’re toddlers, she has enrolled them in every possible class out there.  She’s totally devoted to them.  She stays home and serves them completely, though I don’t see that they’re spoiled-they just own every toy known to man.

It’s totally due to the late-life motherhood, I know.  I just hope that she eventually relaxes and realizes that they don’t need to be perfect kids.  Leave them with daycare once in awhile!

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