Of A Certain Age: On Older First-time Mothers

by

Jennifer S. McLean

B.A., Swarthmore College, 1993 Ed.M., Harvard University Graduate School of Education, 1995 M.S., Antioch University New England, 2010

Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Psychology in the Department of Clinical Psychology of Antioch University New England, 2011

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  Acknowledgements

This dissertation would be only wisps of ideas without the support of so many people. I am deeply grateful that Dr. Amanda Houle and Dr. Colborn Smith were willing to serve as members on my dissertation committee. Both of you have been integral to my growth as a budding psychologist and a person: as professors you shared your deep knowledge and commitment with me, as well as your authentic, unique perspectives. In my first two years at

Antioch, Dr. Houle helped me find my self after the shock of reentry into academics and a new discipline, with its attendant jargon, APA formatting, and sleepless nights. She helped lay the foundation for my work with clients and my professional identity. Dr. Smith soothed my jangled nerves in my fourth year with ambient lighting, tea, apples, and conversation. He helped me to slow down, reflect, and think deeply, and stepped in graciously during my advisor’s sabbatical.

Thank-you both.

Words just aren’t sufficient to express my thanks and gratitude to Dr. Martha Straus, my professor, my advisor, and the chair of my dissertation committee. From the moment Marti began class that first year, I was hooked by her incisive intelligence, her high standards, her compassionate presence, and her humor. Marti was there for me through every step of this seemingly endless process; without her support, guidance, and care, I don’t know how I would have made it. To be sure, the journey would not have been as joyful, meaningful, and fulfilling. I have learned so much from you as a teacher and as a person, and I am truly and deeply thankful for your mentorship.

The entire Antioch community has become a family for me, and I am grateful for the support of professors, staff, and my big, wild cohort. Particular thanks for the laughs, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS ‹˜

 conversations, and craziness are due to my fellow advisees: Rachael Goren-Watts, Maura Cole, and Jamie Carroll.

To my husband, Jim Savage, I am eternally grateful. Without your boundless support I would never have been able to do this. Over the past four and a half years you have: slept through countless terrible kids’ movies; made (or ordered) millions of meals; driven miles to games, meets, and lessons; suffered through Chuck E. Cheese, mini-golf, and bouncy house adventures; attended unconscionable numbers of kid birthday parties and the attendant grown-up conversations with the moms; helped with homework; put kids to bed; taken trips without me; put up with my tears, grumpiness, elation, anxiety, etc.; aided with technical difficulties; and even were subjected to intelligence and personality measures. I don’t know how you do it, or why (it may be a sickness, honey), but I know that I love you more than words can say.

To my Chloe and my Grady, I love you with all of my heart and soul. You have both grown so much since I started this program. Grady, you were still in preschool and your favorite thing was doing the laundry back then. Chloe, you had no front teeth, and were busy starting to read. It was a long time ago! Grady, your wit, expertise on numerous subjects, general hilarity, as well as our snuggle sessions, have really kept me going even when things got hard. And Chloe, your deep philosophical thoughts, gentle spirit, compassion, dependability, and big ideas have helped immensely. I have learned so much from both of you; you have shaped who I am. I know that it has been hard when I have had to do so much “typing,” but your love and those lattes you make have made it so much easier.

Finally, I need to thank all of my family and friends. In particular, my parents, Joanne and Guy McLean, have been incredibly supportive of this entire endeavor from the outset, and I am so thankful for their help and love. They instilled and inspired a love of learning, curiosity, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS ˜

 and creativity from which I drew throughout this process. I am also incredibly lucky to have the best friends in the world; thank-you for shared laughter, conversations, fun, loyalty, and general nuttiness. I’m sure I owe all of you phone calls. You all have given me the courage to go back to school, and the support and encouragement I needed to stick with it.

ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS ˜‹

 Table of Contents

Acknowledgements iii

List of Tables . vi

Abstract .. 1

Introduction 2

The Older First-Time Mother . 8

Never Leave Baby Unattended ... 34

The Mother Load ...... 57

Making Room for Love and Hate (and Everything in Between) 88

Final Reflections 100

References .. 108 ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 1

 Abstract

In the last four decades, the numbers of women in the United States who wait to have children have grown dramatically. In a series of four essays, first-time older motherhood is examined against the contemporary cultural backdrop, exploring its complexities, unique aspects, and implications. These essays are intended to throw light onto a psychologically complex experience, and growing phenomenon, through the lens of the first-time older mother; this perspective have been largely unexamined in the research literature. Previous research has focused on the reasons why mothers delay having children, the medical aspects involved in later motherhood, and the psychological aspects of pregnancy for older women. In comparison, a relatively small number of studies have focused on the psychological aspects of older first-time motherhood. Throughout these essays, the psychological experience of older first-time mothers is explored, the impact of sociocultural factors on this experience is considered, and the particular challenges these mothers face are unpacked. The first essay considers the phenomenon of becoming a mother later in life, reflecting on statistics, demographics, and reviewing the literature. The second essay examines how these mothers are sold fear and the psychological effect of the “dangerization” of childhood. The myths and dominant cultural narratives that surround motherhood- both the historic legacy and current discourse- are explored in the third essay and consideration is given to their meaning for the older first-time mother. The fourth essay explores the notion of ambivalence in new older motherhood. The project concludes with a reflection on the clinical and psychological implications for health and mental health providers, and a discussion of areas for future inquiry, exploration, and study.

ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 2

 Introduction

Background

As a first-time mother, I recall experiencing an underlying gnawing of worry and fear.

Some of this anxiety is surely normative, and some may be developmental, explained away by a rush of hormones, by a tired, healing body, and by a crush of newness. There is an inevitable transition of identity as one becomes a mother for the first time: new responsibilities can feel like burdens, and the known, established self needs to change and grow to accommodate a new role, and an emergent self. Transitions bring stress, anxiety, and a fear of the unknown; becoming a mother can be one of the most transformative and powerful changes that women experience

(Bergum, 1989; Boroff, 1985; McMahon, 1995; Stern & Bruschweiler-Stern, 1988). Winnicott writes of the “primary maternal preoccupation” that characterizes early mothering. He notes that the job of the new mother is to provide an appropriate environment by “bringing the world” (a breast when hungry, a blanket when cold) to her still unintegrated infant (Winnicott, 1956, p.

302). I remember how frightening the “baby bubble” of this preoccupation felt; it was as if I were being sucked into a vortex, and slipping away into non-existence.

At the time, I was 28. As a woman with a graduate degree and a growing career, my identity had been honed through a set of experiences and skills that seemed to have suddenly been rendered meaningless and unimportant. This chafed and left me floundering. As someone with access to many resources and supports, who benefits from privileges and choices due to race, education, sexual orientation, and socio-economic class not available to many new mothers,

I am curious about the challenges I faced. What was at play that was making this experience, while transformative and fulfilling, so fraught with worry? ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 3

 In retrospect, I have come to believe that the dominant discourse surrounding motherhood played a significant role. An undeniable cultural backdrop to mothering weighed on my shoulders, like a planet, as I took on this role. Myths and ideals about what it means to be a mother permeate the current ideological landscape, creating an “age of anxiety” for mothers

(Douglas & Michaels, 2004; Hays, 1996; Thurber, 1994; Warner, 2005). The “expertization” of motherhood was also a factor: by the time I took my daughter home from the hospital I had learned from “attachment parenting” books that to ensure a bond with my baby, she needed to be

“worn” constantly, be breastfed on demand for at least a year, that my diet should consist solely of whole, organic foods, and she should co-sleep with my husband and me. As well, she should never use a pacifier, be exposed to television, or go to daycare. I was also sold fear through ads for video monitors enabling me check on my daughter at all times of the day and night, to make sure she was breathing.

The message was loud and clear: essentially, I needed to be a martyr to be a good mom.

Parenting magazines exhorted me to develop her brain through exposure to classical music, black and white mobiles, and Baby Einstein videos in which puppets recite Shakespeare sonnets. I was supposed to do all this while looking miraculously fit and rested. Profiles of thin, beautiful (and digitally altered) celebrity moms in exquisitely designed nurseries with designer clad babies flooded the media, promoting an image of the ideal mother steeped in domestic bliss. Idolizing your baby was fashionable too: baby feet could be immortalized in plaster for a mere forty dollars. There was clearly a right way to be a good-enough mother, far exceeding those basic standards. “Good enough” now seemed to require perfection, obsessiveness, selflessness, and tranquil domesticity. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 4

 I love my daughter with every depth of my soul, and wanted to do everything I could for her. But at what price? Where was I in this narrative? I couldn’t place myself as the subject in this narrow cultural story of mother. Mothering, for me, is intense and humbling: at turns it is hilarious, poignant, bittersweet, boring, exhilarating, and exhausting. However, I found that there was no safe space to enter into a dialogue about maternal ambivalence or anxiety in a culture that had taken Winnicott’s notions of mothering to extremes: “temporary maternal preoccupation” is not so temporary, being a “good enough” mother is not good enough, and mothers are still faulted for all of their children’s problems. Discussing the underbelly of motherhood is taboo

(Warner, 2005); the competitive ethos of American society has silenced voices of dissent, causing women instead to turn against each other in philosophical “mommy wars” around issues of working, homeschooling, and childrearing practices (Douglas & Michaels, 2004). Moreover, goodness in mothering is a moving target; recent media attention has thrown a spotlight on the negative effects of hovering, overbearing parenting on children (e.g., Marano, 2008), once again placing blame squarely on the shoulders of the overprotective, anxious mothers these cultural narratives have helped produce.

These fraught experiences in my transition from professional to parent piqued my interest in the experiences of others who delayed motherhood until their adult identities had been well established. If I felt such an upheaval before I was even thirty, what was it like for the growing population of new mothers who were a decade or more older than I had been? At the schools my kids attended, the playgrounds where they played, and the school I where I worked, I encountered increasing numbers of women over 40 who were becoming new mothers for the first time. The older mother was similarly discovered by the media, both glamorizing older first-time ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 5

 mothers (when a celebrity), and conveying disgust when it came to regular women having babies

“past their prime.”

I wondered: how common was this phenomenon?; who were these women?; and what factored into the circumstance of delaying motherhood? I was particularly curious about women’s experiences in their new role. If I had found it challenging to unite my established identities in self and career with a new identity as “mother,” what must it be like for women who have been settled in roles for a decade or more longer? Did they struggle similarly with messages of motherhood equating with selflessness and martyrdom? How did they navigate cultural narratives of maternal perfection and definitions of success? Who were their peers? Were they able to find social support, and to voice ambivalence and challenges as new mothers, when they might be 20 years older than most of the other mothers at school? I also wondered about how fears of new motherhood (and motherhood in general), regarding safety of their baby, might be exacerbated by the construction of older motherhood as risky and unorthodox, by the preciousness of the likely only child, and by fears about their own mortality. And if the road to conception and birth had been long and filled with loss (as I knew some must be), what were the psychological ramifications of this ordeal for the mother?

Eleven years later, I find myself embarking on this writing. The particulars of the

“mommy wars” may have changed, but the white-hot intensity of the debate about how to be a good mother has not. Earlier this year an essay in the Wall Street Journal titled, “Why Chinese

Mothers are Superior” by Amy Chua that excerpts from her book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger

Mother (2011), ignited a firestorm in the media. Chua’s promotion of traditional authoritarian parenting as a foil to indulgent, permissive Western parenting led to a media frenzy in magazines, the blogosphere, guest appearances on television talk shows and news outlets, and ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 6

 even garnered death threats for Chua (according to ABC news). The online version of the Wall

Street Journal article has generated 8805 comments as of this writing, and that is just on the original article —not the myriad offshoots of op-eds, articles, radio commentaries, and televised debates, or the actual book. How to be a good mother is clearly a topic that galvanizes the nation;

Time magazine even named Chua one of the 100 Most Influential People of 2011 (The 2011

Time 100, 2011).

The “tiger mother” brouhaha also highlights the role of the internet in intensifying access to “expertise,” and public debate surrounding parenting—which usually targets women readers and is often interchangeable with the more specific and gendered term: “mothering.” With this

“expertization” of parenting has come “commodification.” With a click new mothers can read articles, books, blogs, watch videos, and hear radio stories about how to mother; advertisers are having a field day with product placement accompanying the free advice. New mothers may have a ravenous desire to figure out how to do it well; they are a captive consumer group too.

The media have also sensationalized the perils of motherhood; stories of kidnappings, deaths of infants due to “preventable” accidents has led to the commodification of fear, and a burgeoning babyproofing industry. Consumerism and public health concerns both exert influence upon the awareness of the American mother regarding all the possibilities for harm to come to her child.

Without arguing against safety, I wonder about the toll so much maternal preoccupation with these dangers takes on new mothers in this culture, in particular those who have delayed becoming parents the longest.

I am curious, also, about the advantages of all these changes in motherhood. The large mothering community may have benefits as well; for example, there is power in connection and sharing. My intention, in the essays that follow, is to explore what older first-time mothers face ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 7

 in this evolving context, to understand the unique aspects of older first time motherhood, and to consider the clinical implications for providers.

The following four essays examine first-time older motherhood, and unpack some of its particular challenges in light of the contemporary cultural backdrop. In the first, The Older First-

Time Mother, I consider the current phenomenon of becoming a mother later in life, reflecting on statistics, demographics, and reviewing the literature. The second essay, Never Leave Baby

Unattended, takes on the hypothesis of babies of first time older mothers as uniquely precious cargo. Since these mothers and infants come from a place of feeling “at risk,” how might the

“dangerization” of childhood affect them psychologically? In what ways are mothers sold fear?

The third essay, The Mother Load, considers the additional burdens older mothers are carrying, in light of the current trends of attachment parenting, and intensive parenting. I examine the myths and dominant cultural narratives that surround motherhood -both the historic legacy and current discourse - and consider the impact they have on the new midlife mother. Is it possible for an older mother to be “good enough,” as Winnicott conceived of it, in an age of expertization and perfection? The fourth essay, Making Room for Love and Hate, explores the notion of ambivalence in older mothers. Can older first-time mothers acknowledge and process maternal ambivalence, stress, and anxiety, when such feelings aren’t culturally sanctioned, and when they lack a peer group in sync with their experiences? Is there room for a full spectrum of feeling about motherhood? How can older mothers voice the negative side of the ambivalence? What is the role of the blogosphere? Finally, I will consider the clinical implications of this inquiry and discuss conceptual implications and areas for future exploration.

ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 8

 Essay 1. The Older First-Time Mother

The Phenomenon

This essay unpacks some of the circumstances surrounding a growing trend: women entering motherhood on a later timetable by exploring these questions: Who are first-time older mothers? How do they become mothers? What factors weigh into the later onset of motherhood for these women? What are the perceived advantages and disadvantages to becoming a mother later in life? What makes these women and their experiences with mothering unique? Why is it important that we consider them?

Older motherhood: definition. What is an older mother? There has been no consensus in the research literature regarding the age used to define “older” motherhood. Since older is a comparative adjective meaning “older than the norm,” then it follows that as the average age for first-time motherhood has increased, so, by definition, has the age of older motherhood

(Berryman & Windridge, 1995). In earlier literature, a common definition states that since the peak years for women bearing a first child were 19-27 in the United States, those women giving birth to a first child at age 28 or older were considered “delayed” (Barber, 1982, as cited in

Baldwin & Poelker, 1999; Coltrane, 1990; Roosa, 1988). Other studies have variously used the ages 30, 33, 35, and 40 to depict the start of older motherhood (e.g., Dion, 1995; Garrison et al.,

1997; Reece, 1993, 1995; Schlesinger & Schlesinger, 1986, 1989; Welles-Nystrom, 1997).

There have been multiple rationales for these different definitions including, for example, risk as defined by the medical community, fertility timelines, and life cycle theory. For the purposes of this writing, it is not necessary to make a sharp delineation; instead, the women in whom I am interested, and whose experiences I am considering, are those who self-identify, or who are identified by others, as older. These essays are solidly embedded in a 21st century ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 9

 context, and very much involve issues of identity and self-definition, as well as the gaze and mores of the cultural and social worlds in which these mothers reside. Thus, I will be drawing from literature that spans the array of definitions of “older.” These essays are foremost located in the time of this writing (2011), and in the United States, although many of the ideas and issues are relevant in other cultures and times. As a general guideline, for the purposes of my inquiry, women over 40 certainly qualify for the definition of older motherhood, but a 39-year-old (or younger) first-time mother can similarly be considered “older” in certain sub-contexts. In this circumstance the issues she faces would align with those of the older population.

Problems with words. In reading and writing about these mothers, it becomes clearer to me that there are significant problems with describing this experience with a neutral or objective voice. What can we call these women, when most of the labels have negative and undermining connotations? There are several terms used in the medical and psychological literature, as well as in the popular press to refer to these mothers: these include, for example, “elderly primigravidae,” “delayed,” “postponed,” or “out of sync” mothers. These constructions carry two uncomfortable and confining implications. The first is that motherhood is inevitable or even obligatory for women—it is not simply a matter of if, but when. The second is that there is an

“optimum age” to become a mother, a belief that potentially marginalizes younger as well as older mothers (Shaw & Giles, 2009). If you are “delayed” or “postponed,” you are clearly not

“on time;” this is not good when it comes to planes, trains, or mothers. The term “elderly” brings up images of infirmity and fragility. For these essays, I will be using the term “older mother” interchangeably with “midlife mother.” Although not perfect (I think it still might carry implications of difference/otherness that are negative), it still seems like a cleaner comparison to the norm, and more plainly descriptive. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 10

 Statistics. In the last four decades, the numbers of women in the United States who wait to have children have grown dramatically. In many places, it seems that most women begin their families after 35; popular magazines are brimming with stories of celebrity moms on this new timetable (e.g., Salma Hayek, Julia Roberts, Tina Fey, Geena Davis, Michelle Obama, Julianne

Moore, and Susan Sarandon, to name just a few; (Gregory, 2007). In fact, the average age of first-time mothers is still relatively young, though the delay represents a true sea change, increasing 3.7 years since 1970, from 21.4 years to 25.1 years in 2008 (Martin et al., 2008;

Mathews et al., 2009). For college-educated women (as of 2003), the average age at first birth was 30.1.

Pulling up the average age of first motherhood are big rises in the upper age ranges. In

2005, one in every twelve first births was to a woman 35 or over. That is many more later families than there were in 1970, when one in every hundred moms had their first child at age 35 or older (Mathews et al., 2009). In 2008, the most recent year for which detailed data are available, there are now 13 times as many women giving birth to their first children in the 40 to

44 age range (Martin et al., 2008). To give a more-detailed sense of these numbers: in 2008,

135,260 firstborn children were born to mothers aged 35 and older; 25,134 of these babies were born to mothers 40 and older (Mathews et al., 2009). The later onset of motherhood is clearly a burgeoning trend: if we take into consideration that the population has increased since 1975, the first birth rate per thousand women starting their families at 40 or older has quintupled in the past

30 years (Gregory, 2007; Martin et al., 2008). Moreover, these statistics do not account for first time motherhood via adoption, fostering or kinship custodial arrangements; with the inclusion of all varieties, numbers of first time mothers aged 40 or older are even greater still, representing a substantial proportion of the population (Gregory, 2007). ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 11

 It is not a new phenomenon for women over 35 to have children; it just hasn’t usually been their first child. What’s new is the late onset. Nearly 14 percent of new mothers are 35 years or older - a dramatic shift even from 1990, when more teenagers became first-time mothers than older women. Back in 1990, teenagers had a higher share of all births (13%) than did older women aged 35-plus (9%) In 2008, the reverse was true: 10% of births were to teenage moms, compared with 14% to older women over the age of 35 (Taylor et al., 2010). Moreover, this phenomenon of older onset of motherhood is evident across races in the United States. Since

1990, the average age at first birth has increased across all racial and ethnic groups. Most recent statistical data show Asian Pacific Islander women having the oldest average age at first birth

(28.7 years) followed by non-Hispanic white women (26.0 years; Martin et al., 2008).

The current poor economic picture in the U.S. also correlates with this trend. According to data released in December 2010 by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, birthrates for 2009 continued the downward trend begun in 2008, and 2010 data indicate more of the same.

While the birthrate declined 3% overall, more women are delaying having children. For the second year running, birthrates are declining much more steeply in younger women. Births to teens declined 6%, and births to women age 20-24 fell 7%. After that, the decline diminished, coming in at 4% for those 25-29, 2% for the 30-34 group, and 1% for those 35-39. However, the rate for women 40-44 rose 3% for the second year running. The rate for women 45-49 held steady at its 2008 high of 0.7 births per 1000 women (Taylor et al., 2010). Gregory (2007) postulates while families put childbearing on hold during difficult financial times, the upward trend in birthrates among older women seems to be recession-proof. It is also possible that as the hard economic times endure, women decide they cannot put off indefinitely the decision to have ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 12

 children; these changing trends may also reflect the intersection of biological clocks and economic realities.

Historical context. From a historical vantage point, women over the course of the 20th century showed “considerable malleability in the timing of the first childbirth” (Forest, Moen, &

Dempster-McClain, 1995, p. 315). Previously, trends in later childbearing have been impacted by macro-level forces (like wartime separations and economic downturns) as well as micro-level influences (like educational and career attainment). One spike in older first childbirth was during the Great Depression; financial hardship moved women into the workforce, delaying childbirth for some. During this era, women who gave birth beyond 40 primarily did so due to economic difficulties and high infant mortality rates. During World War II, separation from a spouse, and duty to aid in the war effort similarly contributed to a rise in delayed childbearing (Forest et al.,

1995). In the postwar era, through the baby boom of the 1950s, during relative economic and social stability, most women tended to have children within two years of marriage, and at younger ages than their mothers or grandmothers (Forest et al., 1995). The age of first childbearing remained relatively stable until the 1980s.

The current trend: Why now? The current shift toward later motherhood has lasted longer than in any other historical period (Baldwin & Poelker, 1999; Garrison et al., 1997), and is propelled by the emergence of choice rather than by necessity (e.g., financial hardship during the Great Depression, or forced separation from spouses during World War II). Significant medical advances in birth control and fertility technology, as well as the legalization of abortion, have made what was previously impossible possible: allowing women to choose when and how to conceive. Concurrently, shifting social trends and values, including the emergence of feminist ideology, and increasing rates of women participating in higher education and careers, have ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 13

 altered the way women have been living their lives (e.g., Berryman, Thorpe, & Windridge, 1999;

Carolan & Nelson, 2007). This constellation of influences has fueled the phenomenon of women waiting to have their first children into their fourth, fifth, and even sixth decades. Hence, the

“new later” trend springs from a nexus of factors in multiple dimensions of women’s experience, including education, birth control, careers, social expectations, marriage dynamics, politics, fertility technology, adoption opportunities, health, and life expectancy (Gregory, 2007; Nelson,

2007). Indeed, these changes affect all women, no matter at what age they first give birth, or whether they give birth at all. Women can now decide to have children based on whether, and when, they feel ready, rather than on a rigid timetable set by social convention; they have the opportunity to sequence their lives in the ways that they choose (Gregory, 2007). Since the

1980s, women have cited their desire to satisfy personal, marital, educational, and career goals, prior to becoming mothers, as the primary reasons for delaying motherhood (Barber, 1982 as cited in Baldwin & Poelker, 1999; Dion, 1995); these choices tie closely to perceived and real costs of childrearing.

Career and economic factors. This is an era of both increased financial responsibility, and career opportunities for women. Changes in the social timing of pregnancy and later childbearing are also related to increased female participation in the workforce (Carolan, 2003;

Apter, 1993; Hoffnung, 1995; Lerner, 1994); women who have invested a significant number of years in building a career are more likely to be represented in figures for later commencement of childbearing (Carolan; 2003; Granrose & Kaplan, 1996). Some women who delay motherhood have expressed a desire for time to gain economic independence (Wilkie, 1981); climbing the ladder at work takes time, and is often made easier when kids come after a woman has established herself in her field (Gregory, 2007). Rindfuss et al. (1996) also has speculated that ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 14

 better-educated women who competed for traditionally male jobs were penalized for time spent out of the labor force, thus adding pressure to these women to delay childbearing until they had moved up several rungs of the career ladder. Our current work system offers few reliable options for balancing job and motherhood for young women who are starting out.

On the other hand, women who have established themselves in their jobs, and who have attained higher status in the workplace hierarchy, can use their experience as a bargaining chip to change their work options (Gregory, 2007). Since mothers can’t rely on the government or employers to provide them with the benefits they want and need for themselves, and their families, many women are delaying motherhood until they have enough clout in the workplace to create what Gregory calls a “shadow benefits system” (p. 11).

Educational factors. Women have entered into higher education at notable rates in the last 30 years. Fifty-four percent of new mothers in 2006 had at least some college education, an increase from 41% in 1990. Among new mothers who were 35 and older, 71% had at least some college experience (Taylor et al., 2010). Women who have attained a level of higher education tend to have their children later. Moreover, women who attend graduate school tend to wait even longer (Taylor et al., 2010). This is likely due to a variety of factors, including, for example, increased work opportunities, greater knowledge of the options available, and greater financial resources allowing for more personal freedoms.

Medical advances. Medical advances in birth control and fertility technology have also allowed women to wait to have children, and provided multiple avenues toward conception

(Dion, 1995; Garrison et al., 1997, Wilkie, 1981). The traditional childbearing timeframe has been in a state of flux since the advent of reliable and available birth control; the widespread use of reliable birth control coupled with the lengthening of the modern life span, have given women ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 15

 new options for deciding how to sequence their lives. As mothers expect to live well into their

80s, they may also be more confident that they will be around to raise their children into adulthood, even if they choose to become a mother in midlife (Gregory, 2007). Additionally, increased success rates of assisted reproductive technology, particularly in vitro fertilization

(IVF), and sperm donation, are part of the equation of later pregnancy and birth (Shaw & Giles,

2009). Egg freezing also allows women to circumvent their own biological timetables (Gregory,

2007). Advances in Assisted Reproductive Technology (ART), such as artificial insemination

(AI), in vitro fertilization (IVF), gamete intrafallopian transfer (GIFT) and zygote intrafallopian transfer (ZIFT) have enabled some women who were formerly unable to have children to conceive, including even postmenopausal women (Walker, 2002). Further, the legalization of abortion has decreased risk of unwanted earlier births (Garrison et al, 1997), and also influenced the later onset of motherhood by choice.

Cultural values. Medical advances and fertility technology are only one part of the equation; changing social attitudes have contributed to the later onset of motherhood as well

(Carolan, 2003). The women’s movement, and the subsequent increase in societal acceptance of women choosing to stay single longer, and remain childless longer, have further contributed to this trend toward older motherhood (Garrison et al., 1997; Welles-Nystrom, 1997). Moreover, it has become increasingly common and socially acceptable for woman to remain single indefinitely, and have children on their own, without waiting to find the right partner. In the past ten years, the term “illegitimate child” has largely vanished from our lexicon, and so, too, has much of the judgment that marked the lives unmarried mothers and their children (Gregory,

2007). ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 16

 Shifting cultural mores have also allowed single and lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered mothers more flexibility and options in creating families (Blackstone-Ford, 2002). Linked to this change is the new, and expanding, trend among lesbian couples to have children—a trend based on evolving social attitudes as well as, in many cases, the fairly recent wide availability of sperm donation. Since this option is only recently accessible to many, and since it often takes time for women to move through the process of coming out, many gay moms are later moms, too

(Gregory, 2007).

Who are these mothers? New mid-life mothers are a heterogeneous community: there are older new mothers who are single, married, heterosexual, bisexual, lesbian, newlywed, women creating second marriages, and previously infertile women. Some of these women have made a choice to wait to have children, and others are having children later for reasons outside of their control. Demographic differences between earlier and later childbearers have been researched, with consistent findings (e.g., Daniels & Weingarten; Garrison, Blalock, Zarski, &

Merritt, 1997; Roosa, 1988). Although those who postpone parenthood come from all racial, ethnic, and socioeconomic groups, the highest proportion are white, highly-educated, two-career couples (Baldwin & Nord, 1984, Daniels & Weingarten; Garrison, Blalock, Zarski, & Merritt,

1997). As previously noted, among new mothers who were 35 and older, 71% had at least some college experience (Taylor et al., 2010). Similarly, Rindfuss, Morgan, and Offutt (1996) indicated that the shift toward postponing first births is most prevalent in women in the upper halves of the educational and occupational distributions.

Why wait? Just as the women who become mothers later are from varied backgrounds, so are their reasons for waiting comparably diverse; studies demonstrate that a multiplicity of factors and circumstances contribute to later motherhood (Berryman, Thorpe, & Windridge, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 17

 1995). According to Daniels and Weingarten, “events in their own lives, experiences in their immediate social worlds, and shifts in the prevailing mores of the culture have all intersected again and again, to create not one, but a succession of scenarios for the timing of parenthood”

(1982, p. 167). With some regional and cultural variation, women have long had the ability to exert some degree of control over the decision to have children or not; most women now have greater control over when to have children, if they do decide to become mothers.

Voluntary reasons for delay. Many older first-time mothers cite needing and wanting time to prepare for motherhood by developing emotional independence from parents, friends, and significant others, so as to be able to define one’s own preferences, (Mellon-Elibol, 1992).

This time provides women with the opportunity to discover their own values and their own set of expectations for life, which, in turn, helps them become psychologically prepared to take on the responsibility of motherhood (Berryman et al., 1995). Some women also desire to maintain and enjoy lifestyles that are not congruent with the needs of children (e.g., traveling, dining out.

There are also many relational configurations that lead some women to wait to have children until midlife. Some women want to have a life partner with whom to have children, and the search takes time. Some women decide to become mothers without significant partners after spending time in relationships. Some women divorce before having children, and the time spent in this marital relationship leads to later childbearing either in a second marriage, or alone. Some want time to solidify a relationship with a partner before becoming parents (Berryman et al.

1995; Wilkie, 1981). Other reasons frequently cited for waiting include pursuit of educational goals and career goals. Sometimes women express reluctance or ambivalence about becoming mothers, but later change their minds (Berryman et al., 1995). ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 18

 Involuntary reasons for delay. Beyond the choices that women make in terms of becoming older mothers, some women find themselves forced to delay, due to miscarriages or difficulty conceiving (Berryman et al., 1995). Some women experience later childbirth due to confusion about their fertility; for example, some premenopausal older women take risks with contraception because they believe it is unlikely that they will become pregnant at their advanced age (Berryman et al., 1995; Mellon-Elibol, 1992). Additionally, many older mothers cite financial pressure as a reason that necessitated later motherhood (Berryman et al., 1995). In particular, single mothers by choice may feel more pressure to be financially established since they will be the sole providers of income (Nachamie, 2000). Also, for those mothers who require fertility treatments, some are forced to wait due to the expense of trying in the first place, or to try multiple times, as is frequently necessary.

The Experience of the Older First-Time Mother: Literature Review

The literature on older new mothers is limited, but growing. Much of the research has been focused on the reasons why mothers delay having children (e.g., Daniels & Weingarten,

1982; Dion, 1995), the medical aspects involved in later motherhood (e.g., Walker, 2002), and the psychological aspects of pregnancy for older women (e.g., Gottesman, 1992; Robinson et al.,

1988; Windridge & Berryman, 1996). In comparison, a relatively small amount of research has focused on the psychological aspects of older first-time motherhood. Some of the studies have small sample sizes and limited demographics, and the literature spans different age ranges due to differing definitions of “older” (though most studies investigated women in their 30s and above).

Much of the research has been quantitative in nature, primarily comparing a group of older mothers with a group or groups of younger mothers (e.g., Mercer, 1986; Windridge & Berryman,

1999) on factors such as maternal satisfaction, or transition to motherhood. There have been ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 19

 several studies conducted that investigate samples of older mothers during the postpartum transitional period, which do not include a younger cohort group for comparison (e.g., Reece,

1995; Reece & Harkless, 1996). The majority of noncomparative studies have been qualitative in nature, focusing on themes and theories reflecting the experience of older first-time motherhood

(e.g., Carolan, 2005; Dobrzykowski, 1998; Enter, 1993; Nelson, 2003; Shelton & Johnson, 2006;

Ruzza, 2008). This research on older first-time motherhood has yielded mixed findings, illuminating complexity of the experience, and describing both positive and negative aspects of later motherhood.

Positive aspects of midlife motherhood.

Being ready. Although new midlife mothers come to the experience in different ways, each older mother has benefitted from traveling a relatively long road, bringing her to a place where she is both ready and able to have a child (e.g., Nelson, 2004). Some have faced infertility, others difficulty finding the right partner, and still others, career and personal identity issues that contributed to their decision to postpone childbearing (Dion, 1995; Nelson, 2004). What the majority of older first-time mothers seem to have in common is the perspective gained from greater life experience (Gander 1992; Nelson, 2004). As Nelson explains, “they have ‘lived,’ they have traveled, they have worked, and now they are ready to share” (p. 287). As Gregory

(2007) describes in her book Ready, the majority of older, first-time mothers also have planned pregnancies that are the actualization of a long-held desire. Many of these women undertake immense effort, discomfort, and expense to achieve the goal of motherhood. These mothers describe having had time to develop goals, a career, relationships, and interests. As well, they have had time to consider what is most important to them, and believe themselves to be less likely to take the birth of a child for granted (Nelson, 2004; Ruzza, 2008) than when they were ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 20

 younger. This was found to be particularly true of mothers who had endured the regimen involved in IVF treatment (McMahon, Tennant, Ungerer, & Saunders, 1999).

Readiness for motherhood, and its associated life changes emerged as a theme throughout much of the literature on older first-time mothers. In terms of personal growth, participants in multiple studies cited having had the opportunity for leisure, fun, and travel prior to having children as a benefit of older mothering (Daniels & Weingarten, 1982; Dobrzykowski & Stern,

2003; Enter, 1993; Gander, 1992, Ruzza, 2008, Wilkie, 1981). Older mothers also believe that their experiences have imbued them with positive qualities such as increased patience, tolerance, and maturity, which they bring to their mothering role (Berryman & Windridge, 1991b; Carolan,

2005; Enter 1993; Gander, 1992; Meisenhelder & Meservey, 1987). Similarly, Frankel and Wise

(1982) found that older parents considered the inner resources that come with age an asset to parenting. The participants in Enter's study described greater self-knowledge as a benefit, and those in Carolan's study generally cited greater self-confidence in the maternal role, as a result of their ages and experiences. According to Cully (1993) older mothers “are aware of their own interests, abilities, and emotional needs; with this knowledge come strong inner resources, self- esteem, and an understanding of their own strengths and weaknesses” (p. 34). In Ruzza’s study, the majority of the mothers she interviewed believed that their ages and experiences made them better mothers at this point in their lives, than if they had their children at a younger age. These same participants identified greater self- awareness, and comfort with self, most frequently as the positive qualities they believe they bring to motherhood, because of their ages and experiences.

Additionally, two studies also found older first-time mothers to be motivated to maintain their physical health by practicing positive health behaviors, and complying with medical advice, and ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 21

 in particular, more dedicated to physical fitness than their younger counterparts (Enter, 1993;

Mueller, 1993).

Having children later in life was also found to be beneficial to the mothers themselves.

For instance, the participants in Ruzza’s (2008) study unanimously reported positive changes in themselves following the birth or adoption of their children, and considered motherhood to be a transformative experience. Several of these women reported improved emotional well-being.

Similarly, Daniels and Weingarten (1982) found that participants described profound inner change to be a benefit of first-time midlife parenting.

Economics. Financial security has been discussed by a number of authors as a positive aspect to delaying parenthood (Baldwin & Poelker, 1999; Dion, 1995; Garrison et al., 1997;

Schlesinger & Schlesinger, 1989; Wilkie, 1981). Older mothers are more likely to be at a stage in their careers where they are well paid, own a home, and have savings prior to the birth of the first child. Further, some later mothers have greater leverage to negotiate a preferred schedule that enables them focus on a new child. Seniority in their work may lead to possibilities such as maternity leave, flexible workweeks, and greater choice regarding staying home or returning to work (Baldwin & Poelker, 1999). A more comfortable financial situation further leads to the ability to provide children with a good education, to obtain appropriate child care, and to afford books, toys, and computers, travel, and extra-curricular lessons (Yarrow, 1991). Later parents also have more resources because they tend to have fewer children (Yarrow, 1991).

Parenting style. Later new mothers are diverse, but some research has found themes regarding parenting style within this demographic. For example, in the 1980s, Richardson (1982) and Wilkie (1981) found that adult children of later parents were more likely to describe their parents as warm and indulgent, and recall that their parents had been less likely to discipline with ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 22

 physical punishment and ridicule. More recent studies have found that compared to younger mothers, midlife mothers tend to feel better prepared (Carolan, 2005; Shaw & Giles, 2009;

Shelton & Johnson, 2006), and better able to make wise decisions in regard to medical care, nutrition, and other aspects of childrearing (Cully, 1993).

Nelson (2004) describes yet another distinguishing theme: “planned intensity.”

According to Nelson, “older first-time mothers are intense about what they believe and very organized, from laminated schedules to jam-packed diaper bags, and lists of questions for their doctors. They are invested in giving motherhood 100%” (p. 287). These mothers have often waited for a long time to have a child, and they have an intense appreciation for and desire to do right by their children (Nelson, 2004).

Challenges to midlife mothering.

Identity and career. Working women who postpone their first birth face unique challenges, as they grapple with joining established self and work identities with a new, potentially conflicting role and identity as mother. The National Center for Health Statistics reports first time birth rates for women in their forties with a degree were two to five times the rate of women with less education (Nagle, 2002); it is clear that many women who delay motherhood first advance their education and careers. Although this group is not homogeneous, older mothers in first-world countries tend to be more highly educated and more likely to continue to work in highly paid positions (Berkowitz et al., 1993; Berryman et al., 1999;

Carolan, 2003). In a similar vein, Nelson (2004) found that career is particularly important to many older first-time mothers, and affects them at a different level than for younger mothers.

Qualitative accounts describe the experiences of older first-time mothers as having more at stake with respect to lifestyle changes, career, and long-term relationships, than do younger mothers ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 23

 (Enter, 1993; Gander, 1992; Nelson; 2003, 2004; Sanderson, 1989). Older mothers often feel forced to choose between two lovely options: a career they have cultivated for decades that may now be in mid-bloom, and staying at home with a much-anticipated child. This is significantly different from the younger woman who may have worked for only a few years before starting a family and has much less time, identity, and meaning invested in her career (London, 2001).

Consequently, some research indicates that mothers 40 and older tend to feel more stress than younger mothers, in part due to their experience of parenting as interfering with their careers and an established lifestyle (Reece, 1995). Further, while mothers may be in a stronger financial position when undertaking parenting in midlife, these women and their families often struggle to save concurrently for their own retirement, their children’s college education, and their parents’ care in old age (Williams & Lawton, 1991). As a result, many later mothers are employed outside of the home, and work full time both at home, and in the work place. Reece found that employed older mothers had significantly higher stress levels one year after delivery than their non-employed counterparts.

Feelings of incompetence. Another challenge the older first-time mother faces involves feelings of incompetence in the transition to motherhood. The identities of these women are honed, and built upon a set of experiences and skills that can seem to be suddenly rendered irrelevant and unimportant. For example, in one qualitative study, Ruzza (2008) found that approximately half of her participants articulated feelings of incompetence around the fundamental caretaking aspects of mothering, at least initially; this was likely due to the fact that the most of them had limited prior experience with infants. Mercer (1986) also found that, demographically, the older first- time mothers in her study represented a high ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 24

 achievement-oriented group, and although they prepared more for mothering through prenatal classes and reading literature, their lack of actual experience with infants may have left them feeling less competent than their younger cohorts. Carolan (2003) similarly concluded that most of the participants in her study felt ill-equipped to handle the early days of mothering despite intense mental preparation; they often reported feeling helpless or overwhelmed.

Many of these mothers are accustomed to handling work situations efficiently and effectively; for them, the struggle to adjust can be a surprise. In a case study, Baldwin and

Poelker (1999) elaborate on the experiences of an older first time mother who delayed seeking help until she felt out of control; as someone who had been a successful manager, Sally was

“fearful and resentful of anyone knowing how fragile and insecure she felt as a mother” (p. 7).

Similarly, Reece and Harkless (1996) found that a theme that emerged frequently with older, first-time mothers was “loss of control.” After many years of being able to set and accomplish goals and having freedom and flexibility, older mothers may be surprised by how difficult and stressful it is to care for a new infant.

High expectations. Reece (1993), who studied 91 women over age 35 one month postpartum, also suggested that older first time mothers may have unique stress due to their high self-expectations of motherhood. Dion (1995) hypothesized that the high expectations these older women had of their abilities to cope with the demands of motherhood, combined with a previously high degree of personal control over their lives, might result in added stress postpartum, given the realities and unpredictability of first time motherhood. Windridge &

Berryman (1999) found that some of these women also experience increased autonomy in their lives; this may make their transition to motherhood more challenging. Accustomed as they are to solving problems on their own, this sense of maturity and competence may make it more difficult ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 25

 to reach out for support from family and friends.

Older first-time mothers may also have had more time to think and read about having a baby; however, as Ruzza (2008) notes, these preparations may set the expectations bar extra high. The combination of high-achievement in terms of education and/or career, and preparing for motherhood through reading literature and taking classes, most likely inflated participants' confidence about meeting the challenges of new motherhood. However, many of them articulated feelings of incompetence around the fundamental caretaking aspects of mothering. Similarly,

Carolan (2003) reported a reluctance among her interviewees to ask questions, because they felt they should know the answers; they also believed that others expected them to know the answers as well. Being novices but believing they should be experts, these women were embarrassed about asking for help. The attendant isolation they experienced made it that much more difficult for them to move toward feeling and being confident and competent in their new role.

Medical issues. Women begin to experience a substantial decline in fertility between the ages of 35-40. As well, older mothers face increased risk of medical complications for themselves and their children (Welles-Nystrom, 1997). In the scientific and medical communities, there has been concern about the potential health risks associated with giving birth at older ages (Shaw & Giles, 2009): increased risk of miscarriage, preterm labor, and breast cancer (Kroman et al., 1998); stress (Reece 1995); Down syndrome (Crane & Morris, 2006); chromosomal and congenital abnormalities, hypertension, gestational diabetes, prolonged labor, and perinatal mortality (Gosden & Rutherford, 1995).

The medical literature examining risk is vast; however, the bottom line is that women over 35 years of age who have children still have an excellent chance for a healthy pregnancy, delivery and infant (e.g., Berryman et al., 1995). While older maternal age appears associated ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 26

 with some medical risk, it appears to be much less than the generally-assumed perception of risk

(Berryman, 2000). In fact, there is little consensus concerning risk factors directly related to maternal age, after multiple extraneous variables have been accounted for. Further, some researchers (e.g., Harker & Thorpe, 1992; Mansfield & Cohen, 1998) suggest that psychological factors such as fear, associated with a popular view of later pregnancy as risky, anxiety related to fetal screening, and reinforcement from health care professionals that they are “high risk” may compound to increase the stress levels of older mothers. In cases of IVF-assisted pregnancies,

McMahon et al. (1999) found that women often braced themselves for possible failure, and subsequent disappointment. Most of the attention paid to older mothers in the media and medical community centers on risk (usually medical) to mother and child (Berryman, 1991).

Several authors discuss how age-related risks have been exaggerated in the popular press; for example, while older mothers may be at greater risk from developing high blood pressure and diabetes prior to birth, modern techniques allow for these issues to be successfully detected, treated, and monitored. John Grant, editor-in-chief of the British Journal of Obstetrics and

Gynaecology stated “the risks in childbirth in older women are no greater than in younger women,” and called for doctors to rethink their opinion and assumptions about the older mother

(Bell et al., 2001, p. 912). The term “elderly primagravida” (meaning older, first time mother) in doctors’ notes can give rise to assumptions that lead to tests and interventions (including

Cesareans) that may not be necessary (Bell et al., 2001).

Anxiety. Several studies have identified high levels of anxiety in older motherhood

(Shaw & Giles, 2009). Some older mothers demonstrated anxiety about medical risks to themselves and their babies. However, other studies have attributed increased anxiety to concerns about the social appropriateness of adopting a motherhood identity at an older age. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 27

 Berryman and Windridge (1991) reported that older mothers in their study experienced much community prejudice, including shock and disgust, even from family and friends. According to the Pew Research Center, 33% of Americans disapprove of women having babies after age 40, and 28% of Americans disapprove of women undergoing fertility treatment in order to have a baby (Taylor et al., 2010). Health professionals can also contribute to high anxiety by treating older mothers as “risky” and labeling them as “difficult” and “needy” (Carolan, 2005, p. 765).

Despite the potential advantages of having children later in life, and the greater numbers of women waiting, these mothers still face the stigma of unconventional motherhood. In particular, post-menopausal pregnancy threatens our notion of the “perfect mother” (Letherby,

1999). Specific anxieties reported in older mothers include concerns about “selfishness” (Shelton

& Johnson, 2006), worries about energy levels and coping ability (Dobrzykowski & Stern,

2003), and fears about mortality and missing out on seeing their children grow up (Carolan,

2005).

The “planned intensity” that Nelson (2004) found in older first-time mothers can also give rise to fears. Years of exposure to media reports of accidents, kidnappings, and childhood diseases take a toll on the consciousness of many older mothers; this can make them intensely fearful for the safety of their child, particularly because this might be their only child, and

“they’ve been around and know what can happen” (p. 288). Ruzza (2008) found that the older mothers she interviewed believed that they were more worried or anxious, in general, than younger mothers, usually related to their children's health and well-being. Similar results were cited by Frankel and Wise (1982), who found that older mothers tended to be more anxious regarding their children than younger mothers. They hypothesized that their long anticipation for children magnified their fears of losing them. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 28

 Out of sync. While midlife motherhood is becoming increasingly common, these mothers may feel out of sync with many of their peers who have followed a more traditional trajectory, and with the younger cohort of mothers who become their new peer group. The older mother’s friends may have older children, or children leaving home; they likely engage in leisure activities that do not accommodate babies and young children (Nelson, 2004). The social isolation takes a toll on older new mothers. According to Reece (1993), support postpartum is associated with increased perceived success and satisfaction in parenting and mediated the degree of stress.

However, as Reece and Harkless (1996) concluded, there was a perceived lack of social support for these older mothers, and the number of same-age non-parent friends in their social network decreased after their children were born. Similarly, participants in Ruzza’s (2008) study noted that their previous network of friends was either unavailable (such as peers at work), inappropriate (friends without children), or nonexistent. It was difficult for these mothers to develop new friendships with other mothers of young children due to the age difference between them. Many talked about being lonely and isolated. This notion of older first time mothers being out of phase with their peers throughout the childrearing years has been found in multiple studies

(Deitch, 1992; Dobrzykowski & Stern, 2003; Engel, 2003; Nelson, 2003; and Richardson, 1982).

This decline in social network represents a complex loss in terms of support, advice, and collegiality. Berryman and Windridge (1991a) cite that nearly one third of the 346 women they surveyed who gave birth after age 40 agreed, “the 40+ mother is more likely to feel more lonely and isolated than a younger mother” (p. 27). While the trend toward older motherhood is increasing, these women are still in the minority, and thus continue to face isolation and discrimination. Thus, older first-time mothers are both privileged in some ways and marginalized in others. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 29

 This idea of being out of phase also has implications within the extended families of older mothers: these women are more likely to be caretaking concurrently for their children and their aging parents. McGoldrick (1989) wrote about how middle aged mothers are caught in a

“dependency squeeze” (p. 13), caring for their aging, infirm parents as well as their young children, and this concept is rife throughout the literature (e.g., Engel, 1993; Schlesinger &

Schlesinger, 1986; Wilkie, 1981). The ramifications of having aging parents is echoed in more recent literature; older first-time mothers describe aging parents who are not be able to provide much support to them, and who have less involvement as grandparents with their children

(Gregory, 2007; Ruzza, 2008). In Ruzza’s study (2008), only one third of the participants had their mothers living in close proximity and available to help physically with babysitting for their children. Several of these mothers mentioned the physical limitations of their elderly parents as a drawback to having their children later in life. It is clear that older first-time mothers are more likely to be providing than receiving support. This greater caretaking load serves to exacerbate feelings of isolation from an elusive cohort of peers who may be swamped by similar struggles while juggling so much caregiving.

Women who become mothers in their 40s also have to face a biological timetable that likely involves entering perimenopause. Although still menstruating, these mothers experience fluctuating hormones that can bring fatigue, mood swings and mental stress. The fatigue brought on by post-birth/perimenopausal hormones is juxtaposed by the high-energy needs of their young child (London, 2001). Thus, the developmentally appropriate needs that surface for the mother at this time to take it easy are often at odds with the developmentally appropriate needs of her young child to stay busy (London, 2001). Regardless of the reason, lower maternal energy levels and significant fatigue is mentioned frequently in the literature as drawbacks to later ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 30

 motherhood; older mothers sometimes feel unable to participate fully in active experiences with their children (Cully, 1993; Gregory, 2007; Ruzza, 2008; Yarrow, 1991). Older mothers feel changes in their bodies due to pregnancy and birth more acutely and report that it takes longer for them to “bounce back.” In addition, the physicality of early mothering seems to be more tiring, bring more physical discomfort, and can be more painful for older bodies, joints, and muscles; the sleepless nights, squatting, lifting, carrying of babyhood takes a toll on the aging body (London, 2001).

Loss. A story including significant loss is frequently a part of the new older mother’s experience. Several studies discussed the mother’s feelings of “running out of time” or foreshortened time. As Yarrow (1991) expresses it, older first-time mothers “develop a keen sense of time and its passage” (p. 138). Concerns about being too old to parent a teenager, not being around for an adult child, never becoming a grandparent, and the possibility that their children may not have grandparents for long are discussed consistently in the literature (e.g.,

Carolan, 2004; Reece & Harkless, 1996; Ruzza, 2008). A major theme that showed up in

Ruzza’s (2008) interviews was the loss of potential siblings, and the imagined family. Gregory

(2007) wrote about older mothers needing to face the reality of having smaller families by default. Other losses grieved by older mothers may include miscarriages and repeated failed IVF cycles; the emotional, psychological, and financial toll of infertility treatments can be significant and lasting for the older mother (Ruzza, 2008).

A Paradox: Uniquely Resilient but also Uniquely Vulnerable?

It is clear that older first-time mothers enjoy many privileges in terms of education, finances, and career status, to name a few. They are ready to have children emotionally, and have wisdom and life experiences that they bring to their mothering role. For many of these mothers, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 31

 the journey to motherhood has been arduous, and this destination long-anticipated. This has enhanced their appreciation for their children and this new role, as well as the ways in which their lives were transformed by motherhood. The benefits are many. However, it seems that in other ways these very advantages can, perhaps paradoxically, lead to unique challenges and vulnerabilities in this new role. There are inevitable losses that come with age: (a) the loss of loved ones such as parents and grandparents who will never come to know or be known by their children, and who cannot provide the support they would have liked or needed; (b) the loss of additional children (some to miscarriage, some to dreams), a potential sibling or more siblings for their child; and (c) the loss of precious time with one's child. These losses, and worries and concerns about the future are magnified by the age, and journeys of the older mother.

Older first-time mothers can struggle with adjustment to their new role. Carolan (2003) found several sub-themes in her interviews with older new mothers that indicate adjustment difficulties in their new role: intellectualizing the experience; lack of connectedness; helplessness; seeking more information/the expert phenomenon; identity; and putting up a front.

While these mothers often spent much time planning for motherhood by reading books and taking classes, and being in charge of their pregnancies, they often felt helpless and inadequate when faced with the reality of caring for their new babies. While many of these mothers have been in careers where they have been in positions of power and control, many experienced feelings of helplessness around their baby. Having been labeled “risky,” they often seem to have exaggerated concerns and perceptions of the vulnerability of their infants. Other worries illuminated in this study included being judged harshly by others as a mother, and feeling reluctant to ask questions because they believed they should know the answers. Much of the media discourse about older mothers is framed negatively including claims of selfishness ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 32

 (conveying a judgment of older mothers as “delaying” conception) and violations of a “natural order” (Shaw & Giles, 2009). Many articles position older motherhood as “freakish” and

“unnatural” (Miller, 2011; Shaw & Giles, 2009). Given the medical, ethical, psychological, and social issues associated with older and postmenopausal women having children, their access to fertility technology has been a topic of much controversy (Walker, 2003). Thus, their histories and experience as “unconventional” and “other” may make them more vulnerable to adjustment difficulties.

Although there is no real consensus in the literature, anecdotal evidence suggests that older first time mothers are also particularly vulnerable to postnatal depression (Carolan, 2003;

Stowe & Nemeroff, 1995). Prevalent perceptions of this cohort as “difficult,” “needy,” and

“problematic” in terms of consumption of nursing time and resources, and anecdotal evidence suggests that these women may have major adjustment difficulties around breastfeeding and settling of infants (Carolan, 2003). New motherhood is full of adaptive challenges for all mothers, and new mothers, regardless of age, commonly describe feeling unprepared for maternity (Barclay et al., 1997; McVeigh, 1997). However, the older mother seems to feel these changes more keenly, though there is a lack of consensus in the literature.

As I began to investigate first-time older motherhood, I was astounded by the statistics regarding the growth of the trend, and the relative paucity of current literature that explored the experiences of these women. A lack of recognition of the inherent difficulties faced by the older first-time mother, compounded by contempt, has hampered thoughtful, thorough consideration of her circumstance and needs. These women are often in positions of relative privilege and power, and, as a result, assumptions are frequently made about their well being and assurance in the transition to motherhood. Moreover, much of the extant literature is binary in its construction: ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 33

 older versus younger, positive versus negative. In the following essays, I will explore the context of older mothering now in the United States, to think about the why of the challenges these mothers face, and, without vilifying, to deconstruct some of the psychological and societal meaning-making about this experience. In order to better understand and serve this growing population, it is important to view the new older mother’s experience embedded within a larger, dynamic cultural and historic context.

ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 34

 Essay2. Never Leave Baby Unattended

Becoming a mother is life altering. Finding words to adequately describe this change is an elusive endeavor, in equal parts due to its emotional intensity, the diversity of maternal experience, and the enormity of the adjustment. Although motherhood is generally expected to be a time of joy and bliss, many women also experience psychological distress in the postnatal period. While postpartum depression has been studied extensively, and has garnered much attention in the medical world and in the media, postnatal anxiety has only recently gained traction in the literature. Research has shown that anxiety during the first six months following childbirth is common, with incidence rates estimated between 6.1 and 27.9 % (Britton, 2007), and that postpartum anxiety is associated with diminished feelings of parental efficacy (Porter &

Hsu, 2003).

Here’s what’s clear: mother love makes mothers even more vulnerable. As Smith, author of A Potent Spell (2003) explains, it “raises all stakes, and defines much about how we live-and have lived- in the world” (p. ix). Most new mothers face that life-changing moment when they realize the impact they can, and will, have on their child’s life. Suddenly the enormity of the protecting and caring for someone utterly dependent for their survival crashes over them like a tsunami. For me, it happened as the nurse was going through the discharge protocol at the hospital. I was looking at the tiny, vulnerable creature buckled into the car seat as the nurse asked me questions, thinking how can they possibly just give me this child to pick up and carry into the big world? The world instantly seems more threatening: every car we encountered coming home from the hospital was suddenly a potential baby-killer.

My experience is more common than I knew. Mothers are wired to become vigilant, and sensitive to risks to their children, in a passionate, mammalian quest to protect their child’s well ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 35

 being; further, a mother’s well being becomes exquisitely interdependent with the well-being of her child. If you were to ask a mother to imagine the worst thing that could happen to her, more often than not, the answer would involve harm to or loss of her child. Every mother has experienced the blinding, frantic terror of perceived threat to her child: the infant with a soaring fever; the toddler toddling out of sight in the store, the child chasing the ball into the street, the adolescent who doesn’t come home on time. Daniel Stern (1998) called this first stage in motherhood the “life-growth theme” (p. 175). This theme’s central issue, and the mother’s deepest and most primary concern, is the survival of her child. The stakes are undeniably high:

Stern describes,

What is at stake here is whether the mother will succeed as a human animal. Is she an

adequate, naturally endowed animal? If she is, as measured in terms of the baby’s life and

growth, she can take her natural place in the evolution of the species, the culture, and her

family. If not, she will fall irreversibly out of these natural currents of human evolution,

perhaps forever. (p. 175)

The power of this theme may ebb and take on different meaning over time, but it never goes away, long into the child’s own adulthood.

This lodestar brings an onus of responsibility; contemporary mothers are told over and over that the choices they make, both big and small, matter, and can make the difference between their children’s success and failure, happiness and misery, even life and death. When even small decisions like buckling your baby into a car seat (is it the safest one?) can have huge consequences, including the potential (and, worse, avoidable) loss of your child, the burden can feel overwhelming. Of course, the rewards usually outweigh these miseries. Having a person so dependent on your loving and care also brings with it unimaginable gratification, and nurturing a ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 36

 child is full of pleasures- a small, sturdy hand in yours as you cross the street, the weight of your infant’s sleeping head on your shoulder. But embedded in love is loss, and fear of the loss of a child can bring a press of responsibility, and trigger worry that makes it hard to breathe. 

Our current Western ethos exacerbates this fear. We are raising children in a culture that underscores—via our own determined efforts— the perfectibility of our children. We are taught by experts, and by the legacy of the American dream, to subscribe to the belief that with proper nurturance and the right upbringing, every child can fulfill his or her boundless potential; thus, the burden is on the parents to “do it right.” Doing it right, however, is a nerve-wracking, moving target, as recommendations from experts change and conflict, their expectations unattainable to begin with. Whether or not we had it ourselves, everyone reveres mother love, has a story about what it is supposed to look like, and needs to believe it is possible. Mother love is prized as a panacea: loving, secure mother-child attachments are framed as both necessary and sufficient for healthy child development; thus, if something goes awry, mother is implicated. True, fathers, extended family, and community all have a role in raising children in our societal story, but they seem optional, a nice bonus; mothers continue to bear the responsibility and the blame, and less often, the accolades for a job well done. It is no wonder that mothers live with worries that their decisions and actions will be wrong, and do irreparable damage. Indeed, maternal anxiety has surely been around a long time; what’s new is how lucrative it has become.

Simmering beneath this soup of blame, love, and fear, is our profitable cultural obsession with safety. Contemporary mothers are given the message through numerous channels that they must be constantly vigilant and highly attentive. Parenting magazines, news outlets, and television shows (fictional and nonfictional) bombard mothers’ alarm systems with news of disasters, loss, violence, and disease involving children. Companies have discovered that there is ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 37

 money to be made through these fears; an entire industry of safety products that capitalize on maternal vulnerability, and purportedly allay worries, has sprouted. Paradoxically, these are marketed to mothers through advertising that unabashedly inflates paranoia, and universalizes the rare tragedy to an everyday possibility. 

Fear and the older first-time mother

Older first-time mothers may be particularly vulnerable to these messages. As new parents, they feel worry as they adjust to their new roles, as all first-time parents do. The stress involved in the transition contributes to normative feelings of anxiety (e.g., Mercer, 1986).

Further, as all new mothers do, they share a laser focus on their baby’s survival (e.g. Stern,

1998). Beyond this, however, new midlife mothers face some unique challenges that increase their level of fear; several studies have demonstrated that this population experiences heightened anxiety (Nicholson, 1998; Shaw & Giles, 2009; Windridge & Berryman, 1999). While not homogenous, this cohort of older first time mothers tends to be composed of well-educated women who are involved in highly paid employment (e.g., Berryman et al., 1999). Thus, they tend to be financially secure, pursue healthy lifestyle choices, and utilize health care services

(Berryman et al., 1999; Raum, Arabin, Schlaud, Walter, & Schwartz, 2001). Consequently, they have the financial means and incentive to buy more products; to the extent that it is possible, they are hoping to purchase their baby’s safety and health. Their resources and anxiety make them a uniquely vulnerable consumer group. 

There are several reasons why older new mothers have so much added worry. They have been informed by the medical profession and the media (and perhaps through painful personal experiences) that becoming a mother at an older age is an endeavor fraught with risks, and potential complications. In the medical domain, mothers over 35 and their infants are considered ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 38

 to be at increased risk for complications like high blood pressure, preeclampsia, gestational diabetes, maternal mortality, chromosomal abnormality, prematurity, low-birth weight infants, and unexplained stillbirth (Carolan & Nelson, 2007). Although medical records of labor and delivery showed few effects related to maternal age, medical professionals tend to place women over 40 in a “high risk” category (Windridge and Berryman, 1999). Apart from the medical issues, and despite the greater numbers of women having their first children after 40, these mothers still encounter other kinds of stigma associated with unconventional motherhood

(Miller, 2011; Taylor et al., 2010). For example, Beaulieu and Lippman (1995) surveyed 10 major women’s magazines for content about “older” pregnancy, all emphasizing the risks. These authors found generally fearful themes describing the need for women to be informed about the risks of later pregnancy, the need to use medical testing to understand the physical health of the fetus, and the need for prenatal diagnosis to ensure the health of the fetus. The message to these mothers is that if they are going to embark on a journey so culturally divergent, they need to take extra precautions, to be more vigilant, to pay closer attention if they want to protect their children from harm. In other words, they need to be better, and try harder, to measure up; having a healthy birth is just the starting point. 

If loss, or the potential for loss, is at the heart of maternal fear, this emotion may be even more central to the new older mother’s experience. These mothers share a keen sense of foreshortened time; they worry about their own mortality and its effect on their children, about not being around to see their children into adulthood, and about the possibility that their children would not have grandparents for long (e.g., Carolan, 2005; Reece & Harkless, 1996; Ruzza,

2008). This sense of “running out of time” intensifies the fearful emotional experiences of these mothers. Loss is inherent to motherhood: with the excitement of each new developmental stage, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 39

 what’s left behind may be mourned. Too-small shoes and lost teeth mark the dogged march of time. New older mothers don’t just mourn their children’s younger selves, but also grieve the loss of potential siblings and a larger, imagined family, since in many cases older mothers are only able to have one child.

Relationships that didn’t work out, miscarriages, and repeated failed IVF cycles are a part of many older mothers’ birth stories; the emotional, psychological, and financial toll of infertility treatments, and lost pregnancies can be significant and lasting (London, 2001; Ruzza, 2008).

Thus, the road to motherhood for many older mothers is a long and difficult one, and this, coupled with the knowledge that this may be their only child, makes the experience of mothering feel even more bittersweet, precious, intense, and vulnerable. Underscoring this observation, several researchers have found that new older mothers worried more than their younger counterparts about their children’s health and well being, hypothesizing that mothers’ long anticipation for a child magnified their fears of losing him or her (e.g., Frankel & Wise, 1982;

Ruzza, 2008).

Such a sense of vulnerability must be exacerbated by the new media, 24 hour news cycles, and sensationalized reality television shows featuring child abuse, illness, and abduction.

More years of exposure to these media reports of accidents, kidnappings, and childhood diseases likely take a toll on the consciousness (if not unconscious fears) of many older mothers too.

Some obstetricians use the term “premium baby” to describe any baby especially desired by the mother, particularly the older, first-time mother (Korte & Scaer, 1992). It’s hard enough to manage fears of child loss and harm in this cultural landscape; a premium baby represents a virtual tinderbox of worry. 

ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 40

 The Rub 

Maternal anxiety is not a brand-new experience (mothers have undoubtedly had worries and fears across the ages; it comes with the job), but the widespread cultural backdrop that incites and maintains it has been in crescendo over the past few decades. What rings strangest and most salient about this phenomenon is its placement in the 21st century, a time of greater health and longevity than ever before in history. If it is a fair assumption that a mother’s most desperate fear is the death of her child, then why would this figure so prominently in the cultural zeitgeist when at least in the Western world, children are more likely to survive than ever before?

We have eradicated the major lethal childhood diseases. We have modern medicine, air bags, medevac helicopters, 911 to call in emergencies, and cell phones to call it with. We have taken the urea formaldehyde out of our homes and exchanged the cement on our playgrounds for recycled rubber. Life for many Americans is materially, and physically, easier, and more than ever we ought to feel in control of our lives and destinies.

Therefore, bad things really don’t happen that often, and clearly shouldn’t happen to children whose parents (and particularly mothers) are taking care and paying attention. However, the corollary is fiendish: if something goes wrong with a child, someone, usually the mother, is to blame. As child mortality rates have plummeted, it has become simply unacceptable for children to die (Smith, 2003). Such a tragedy is now imbued with blame and shame, since, somehow, the parent should have prevented it. This condemnation is also helpful to other anxious parents because this explanation rules out any similar tragedy befalling us. Yet, worry persists, even if just at the rim of consciousness. This belief in the perfect mix of maternal omnipotence, medical wonders, and societal control, runs counter to the niggling, irrefutable, knowledge that fate and circumstance could strike at any time. So, even knowing they can’t ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 41

 worry about everything, mothers are still willing to try—even as they may know with their logical minds that controlling for every eventuality is an impossible—and crazy-making—task.

Perhaps, as Janna Malamud Smith (2003) proposes, in our Western expectation for relative ease, people find psychic pain harder to bear, so we personalize it and can’t accept it as a normal part of life. Moreover, older first-time mothers, who may have dealt with considerable psychic pain of their own, may be extra determined to do all that is humanly possible to spare their children any comparable hardship or discomfort; they’ll do whatever it takes to prevent the inevitable sorrows of life from befalling their precious ones.

Fueling maternal fears is a bombardment of messages about child safety and vulnerability in the media. With such easy and quick access to international events, both big and small, stories are plucked from far and wide. News of kidnappings, drownings, murders, car accidents, suicides, and playground accidents involving children are gathered from all over the world.

There are no longer boundaries to these stories as the local can become global in a moment.

Mothers’ alarm is constantly refreshed, and the terrain she has to safeguard is seemingly limitless

(Skenazy, 2009). It doesn’t help to discover that most of the dangers that befall children happen in the home; such a realization only compounds the vigilance, and attendant distress.

With the advent of 24-hour news stations comes 24 hours to fill each and every day. To manage this, some stories (often about child abductions and murders) become sensationalized; it is nearly impossible to gain perspective on the rarity of these events when they are constantly splashed across the news. Notably, also, harm befalling children at the hands of their mothers receives the widest scrutiny and most detailed coverage (e.g., the recent Casey Anthony case), even though women are significantly less likely than men to harm children, and much more likely to be victims themselves. Sadly, even when mothers are, themselves, victims of violence, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 42

 they are additionally condemned for “failure to protect” their children. And popular shows like

“To Catch a Predator” make it seem like creepy strangers are around every corner when, in fact, only 10 percent of child sexual abuse is perpetrated by strangers (U.S. Department of Justice,

2007). Indeed, children are much safer on the street than they are at home. We are so reactive to terrible, sensationalized news that we spread our worry around, not effectively able to sort our attention and anxiety.

The varieties of risks to our children’s safety seem endless, because, under this kind of scrutiny, they are. Further fuelling the reactive and fearful, and often political agenda, the hungry news media are quick to give publicity to incomplete and immature research on child development and medicine (Smith, 2003) resulting in such frightening but utterly unfounded

“stories” (e.g., immunizations cause autism; children who spend 30 hours a week or more in daycare are more aggressive). These “factoids” swirl in the media, and are reified in internet chats, becoming truth, and influencing decisions. When the refutations with more measured data and developed interpretations come along, they’re often unnoticed. Each night television dramas portray hospitals and police sexual violence units helping children who are dying, and have been sexually assaulted. There is even a television show called “Babies 911” on the Discovery network that documents cases of babies with serious medical conditions, and the doctors who are treating them. This programming hammers home the relentless message that children are endangered, and we must be ever watchful. And though it might be cynical to say, it’s a fact that vigilance sells products.

Selling Fear

After the news and television dramas have frayed mothers’ nerves, enterprising businesses offer products to soothe them. Mothers’ desire to do what’s best for their children has ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 43

 been exploited — and intensified— by manufacturers, and products that play on maternal fears are being sold in the guise of health and safety (Douglas & Michaels, 2004; Warner, 2005). This commodification and commercialization of motherhood suggests that there is a product to assuage every worry, and sparks fears that mothers didn’t even know they should have. The message is that if we watch and monitor our children’s every movement, we can ensure that accidents never happen. We believe that it isn’t safe for our children to play in neighborhood, to walk to school, and that stranger danger lurks around every corner. The reality is that violent crime in America has been falling since it peaked in the early 90s, and the streets are as safe now as they were in the 70s and 80s (Crimes Against Children Research Center, 2007). Times may not have changed as much as we think. In fact, considering the wide spread use of cell phones

(including by many children), it would seem that access to emergency services would contribute to a greater sense of security. 

Cultural mores about leaving children alone, or with siblings have undoubtedly changed,

I remember reading in the car as a kid while my parents grocery shopped (free of constraining seatbelts and child-proof locks); now leave your child in the car for a moment while you duck in to get a coffee (keeping the child in sight the entire time) and you may get reprimanded by good

Samaritans who threaten to report you to the police. Most states have laws that do not allow a child to be left at home for any length of time until age 12. By that age I was babysitting for families with multiple young children. The wisdom of hiring a 12 year old to care for your children is debatable, but this example is emblematic of this cultural shift.

To be clear, there are certainly parents who are neglectful and who don’t take adequate precautions. There are parents who don’t want to have children, and who shouldn’t have children. There are parents who live in poverty, and can’t be as watchful as they would like ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 44

 while they work multiple jobs to make ends meet. There are parents who suffer from mental illness and addiction, who are unable to ensure that even the basic necessities for nurturance are met. These laws are in place to protect children who are vulnerable, invisible, and voiceless.

What’s open to question is whether our desire to be ever watchful has been taken to extremes, and whether parents have been frightened into a hypervigilance that may be unnecessary or even stifling. Are we losing perspective on the idea of a base rate? How likely is it that my child would be kidnapped, or my locked car stolen in the three minutes it took to get my coffee? The risk is so small that it is roughly equivalent to none. Statisticians call these kinds of statistics de minimis (Skenazy, 2009). It is akin to trying to protect against a rogue asteroid. Yet, any risk feels like too much risk to mothers who are desperate to not lose their baby, especially when these stories of threat and harm are fresh in their minds. Mothers are prodded to believe that it behooves them to take all possible precautions to prevent every extremely rare possibility.

Not surprisingly, given the new vigilance, many infant and child safety products are created with an eye to surveillance. For most new parents there is probably nothing more frightening than the specter of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS). A devastating phenomenon, infants are most vulnerable from birth until four months — by the time they are able to turn over themselves, they are usually out of the woods (American Academy of Pediatrics

Task Force on Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, 2009). What could possibly strike terror into the hearts of parents more than the notion that their baby could just stop breathing in the middle of the night? What’s very hard to remember is that SIDS is now rare, affecting fewer than one baby in three thousand (American Academy of Pediatrics Task Force on Sudden Infant Death

Syndrome, 2009). Preventative measures like putting children on their backs to sleep, having a firm crib mattress, and removing stuffed animals and soft bedding, like bumpers and fuzzy ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 45

 blankets, has diminished SIDS deaths by over 50 percent since 1992 (American Academy of

Pediatrics Task Force on Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, 2009). Still, the risk is real enough for a burgeoning industry to address it.

Capitalizing on these fears, there are now products that allow parents to monitor their infants at all times, not just by a standard audio monitor, but also by video monitors with Skype capability, and by movement monitor. For a mere $189.99, the Home & Away Video Monitor

“lets you monitor your baby at home with the large 3.5" color screen, or when away with Skype on any computer” (www.thefirstyears.com). Now parents can be sleep deprived due to watching their babies sleep throughout the night, and be distracted at work by watching them nap.

Potentially even more crazy-making is the Angelcare Baby Movement and Sound Monitor

Deluxe for $159.99. This monitor has a technologically advanced pad that can be placed in the crib to “detect the baby’s slightest movements, even while she sleeps,” and sound an alarm if no movement is detected in 20 seconds (www.amazon.com). Included is a room thermometer that will alert the caretaker if “the temperature falls out of your preset range” (www.amazon.com).

The Angelcare (even the name conjures up death) has voice activation, and displays all of the data it collects on the parent’s unit, giving the parents one more thing to worry about. For some parents, these products may provide a sense of security, but it is also likely that most will experience heightened threat awareness, triggered anxieties, and even greater sleep deprivation.

Regardless, the product description encourages parents to think more about sleep risks. The implication is that mothers who don’t monitor may be putting their baby at risk, and they might be very sorry. Isn’t your baby’s life worth $159.99? 

Of course, the need for surveillance doesn’t stop in infancy. Once a child begins to venture into the world there are more dangers to contend with, and products for tracking children ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 46

 are a growing market. For example, at www.mypreciouschild.com, parents can buy Velcro ID bracelets, child safety harnesses (backpacks with leashes), ID shoe tags, and lost and found temporary tattoos. There is nothing wrong with these products per se. They can be helpful, especially with particularly impulsive children, and children with special needs. However, they do provide some evidence for the level of fear under which we are operating; their prices show how much the marketplace bets we are willing to spend to safeguard against any threat or risk, no matter how small. A teddy bear locator alarm which can be attached to a backpack or worn on the wrist is also available for $29.99, which beeps when the child wanders beyond 20 feet away, allowing caregivers to locate their wandering (or abducted) child up to 150 feet away. Another product, the Ekahau wrist tag is a watch-like tag that enables real-time location monitoring over a Wi-Fi network. It retails for $60. 

If these options are not adequate, parents can buy the Amber Alert GPS at www.amberalertgps.com. According to the website, this product has been featured on MSNBC, the CBS Early Show, and Good Morning America, trusted mainstream media/news outlets (read: experts). This system costs $199.00 plus $19.99 per month for tracking. Text alerts are an additional $15.99 per month. There are also many accessories available: a neoprene pouch; a zipper pouch; a breakaway lanyard; a car charger; an arm/ankle band; an extended battery; and

3G faceplates. Here’s the description: “Now it’s easier than ever to know where your child is.

Through the use of our new smart phone application, you simply log on and see the most recent location of your child.” Monitoring is now possible wherever your child is. Additionally, this equipment allows you to call the device so you can listen to what is going on around your child.

It doesn’t ring or vibrate; it just allows you to listen without her knowing. This feature costs

$9.99 per month for 30 minutes of voice monitoring. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 47

 And how is this very expensive item sold? Through fear and the threat of blame. The explanation of the voice monitoring capability begins, “Want to check on your child’s well- being?” Yes, of course. What well-meaning parent wouldn’t? Ratcheting the fear-mongering to the next level, a Predator Alert is also available for $5.99 a month. Here the website queries,

“Want to be notified when your child gets near the residence of a known sex offender? Simply put the device on your child and when your child comes within 500 feet of a registered sex offender’s residence, you’ll get an alert.” The message is loud and clear: for about six dollars a month you can ensure that your child is not molested. Too bad that 90% of kids are molested by people we know well, and might even be married or related to (U.S. Department of Justice,

2007).

The Amber Alert GPS website also features a ticker of facts that scrolls across the screen, a reminder that the world is a dangerous place: “115 children are the victims of “stereotypical” kidnappings each year;” “a child goes missing every 40 seconds in America every year;”

“203,900 children are victims of family abductions every year;” “in the United States alone approximately 800,000 children (younger than 18) go missing.” These statistics may be true

(there is no research cited), and they are sure to make a parent’s heart beat faster, but there is no way to gain any sense of perspective on these numbers. For example, there are currently 75.6 million children under the age of 18 in the United States (www.childstats.gov). If 115 of them are victims of “stereotypical kidnappings” each year, that equates to 0.00015% of children, or 1.5 out of one million children. I’m not a statistician, but that seems like a de minimus statistic to me.

It’s 115 children too many, and a terrible reality; however this is clearly a minimal risk that is being used as a scare-tactic to sell an expensive (and possibly dubiously effective) product. As ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 48

 my 11-year-old pointed out, “how do you even make sure the kid has it on them, implant it behind their ear or something?”

Other means of spying on your children, in the name of protecting them, exist as well.

AT&T offers a new tool (Family Map) to locate a family member’s phone via a web browser.

Users pay a monthly subscription of $9.99 per month to monitor one phone, and to view their child’s location on satellite maps and interactive street maps

(https://familymap.wireless.att.com). At the cutting edge of technology, Isaac Daniel Shoes offers GPS shoes (for $150) that let family members know exactly where the wearer is via a

Bluetooth compatible phone. The company is planning to release these shoes in kid sizes soon

(www.isaacdaniel.com).

To my mind this scrutiny is moving beyond intrusive, and inching steadily toward creepy. It’s hard to imagine how a parent explains to a child or adolescent the nature and extent of their concern, if the monitoring gets revealed. Even more worrisome, it suggests a complete failure to value the development of actual trust and communication between parents and children. If a parent begins by being suspicious of their child’s whereabouts and activities, this device will practically guarantee they’ll hear something that is distressing. After all, what child or adolescent triggering this kind of hypervigilance in the first place will disappoint if watched closely enough? Beyond the potential rupture in the mother-child relationship is the greater psychological context. Normative maternal fears about child survival are being exploited and exacerbated for commercial gain, and all mothers, and particularly older first-time mothers, are vulnerable to these messages since their most primal wish is to ensure that their child lives.

ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 49

 Childproofing Childhood

The childproofing industry is another big marketer of extreme fear, helping parents

“childproof” their homes to safeguard against accidents. Here is a preliminary, but by no means exhaustive list: Drawer locks, toilet locks, baby gates, outlet protectors, blind pull shorteners, door stops, corner guards, hearth pads, knob covers, no-climb deck guards, furniture brackets, and window stops, all possibly essential for making a baby and toddler’s environment safer. This merchandise can be expensive; there are even companies that will baby-proof your home for you, charging a premium for their services. For instance in New York City, Baby Proofers Plus has an average cost of $500 to $600 for a two-bedroom apartment, and $700 to $1200 for most two story homes (www.babyproofersplus.com). Another company, Safe Beginnings

(www.safebeginnings.com), offers a room-by-room evaluation, identifying hazards, and then recommending and installing the “right products.” The owner is an expert, an “Advanced

Certified Professional Babyproofer.” Childproofing has become an authorized and even certifiable activity. The underlying suggestion is that there are multiple ways a parent could make a lethal mistake: they could not notice the safety threat, they could not buy the right product to mitigate it, and they could install the products incorrectly.

Childproofing items can be very helpful to parents, and likely prevent some accidents, but it can be argued that not all of them are necessary. One popular retailer, One Step Ahead, offers a plethora of options. To give a sense of the size of this industry, as of 2006, One Step

Ahead printed 20 million catalogs per year and approached 75 million dollars in revenue (Paul,

2008). Some of the items available take the notion of protecting a child to extremes: for example, the Lil’ Melon Baby Knee Pads for Crawlers ($14.95), and the No-Shock Baby & Toddler Safety

Helmet ($39.95; www.onestepahead.com). The kneepads are designed to help “make crawling ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 50

 more comfortable and enjoyable” and provide “extra traction for slippery floors”

(www.onestepahead.com). Who knew that for all of these years babies had been so uncomfortable while learning to crawl? The helmet is described as “ideal for babies learning to crawl or walk on hardwood and tile floors; protects li'l heads from sharp furniture corners, too.

Extra peace of mind for parents!” (www.onestepahead.com). The helmets are marketed as a way to buy safety or “peace of mind;” this advertising reminds parents that they need to be worried, in this case about traumatic brain injuries. The marketing is misleading: head trauma does not occur from the regular bumps and bruises acquired while learning to walk, but are the result of serious injury. Grocery stores also hold perils; the Bilby, a $27.95 shopping cart liner is also available for parents who worry about their children’s comfort and protection from germs while shopping for groceries. 

On one website, www.alivepast5.com, the culture of fear and paranoia is particularly striking. The name alone is enough to startle, and the tagline adds, “In the blink of an eye, your child could die.” The home page really lays bare a message of guilt: 

Although there are no fool proof child safety tips for baby safety that protect from every

possible danger, loving parents want to feel they have done “everything they can” to

protect and keep their baby or small child safe. Parents never regret time and effort put

into baby safety or child safety efforts, but are filled with despair when they fail to

protect them. (www.alivepast5.com)

Heed the recommended precautions, or else you may rue your mistake forever. The website also makes claims to examine data, reviewing child accidents daily, in order to create constructive safety tips. They provide links to products (like the GPS system) to help parents keep their children alive, “We stress baby safety at home and away and suggest child safety products for ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 51

 added layers of protection so their precious infant, baby, or young child makes it to kindergarten!” Just in case parents missed its meaning, the site hammers it home, making it utterly explicit: “You consider yourself an attentive parent, very conscientious about baby safety and the care of your baby or small child, right? Well there are lots of parents like you, and then came that day still, when a horrific accident changed their lives forever. An accident can happen in just seconds.” In other words, what you are doing is not enough; don’t forget that if you aren’t ever-vigilant, ever-attentive, and buying the right products, your baby could die or be terribly injured. If parents want to learn even more scary details, they are invited to check out tabs such as, “Tragic Headlines;” “Tragic Statistics;” “Baby Safety;” “Auto Safety;” “Pool Safety;” “Dog

Safety;” “Childproofing;” and “Learn CPR.” Of course, there is also a tab called “Safety

Products” so parents can buy those “layers of protection,” and one, amusingly for “Product

Recalls” perhaps so parents can replace the layers of protection they brought previously, that have now become death traps. 

This website seems too ridiculous and overly dramatic to be taken seriously. But it’s hard to resist, and as a vivid caricature of the whole safety industry, it is revealing. I have to confess, as a mother, it’s almost impossible not to click on those tabs, just to see if there’s something else I should be doing, a little tip I hadn’t thought of. What is more compelling, at least on the face of it, than realizing it’s your baby’s very survival that’s at stake. And even if one knows intellectually that the statistics are overblown, and the stories are unusual, it could happen, and it could be prevented. A frisson of dread travels up the spine, and questions begin to niggle, “hey, maybe I do need to learn infant CPR,” or, “maybe this helmet could prevent a concussion and brain injury” or, “that really was a dirty shopping cart; who knows what my baby was exposed to in there.”  ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 52

 In fact, there is nothing wrong with safety precautions. Safety is good. There are many accidents that can be averted with care, attention, and caution; some safety products are helpful to this end. However, we live in a culture that has evidently taken safety to extremes, with antibacterial wipes for grocery carts, and playgrounds that are now absent high slides, monkey bars, and asphalt. Skating is suddenly prohibited on the pond where no one has ever drowned, and products like infant swings and playpens, seemingly designed to give a mother five minutes to take a shower, have bold print instructions: Never Leave Baby Unattended. For the first-time older mother, concerns about safety are even more embedded with fears of survival. For many of these mothers their very identity as a mother is predicated on the survival of this child: the stark reality is that without this baby, they may never be a mother again. They may come to motherhood having experienced miscarriages and failed conceptions; these experiences may have shown them that survival is not guaranteed.

Safe and Sound?

Mothers hold the purse strings to a mammoth industry: the “mom market” is thought to be worth about 1.7 trillion dollars (Paul, 2008). A whopping six billion dollars are spent each year on baby equipment, and baby registries alone are a $240 million business (Paul, 2008). The powerful industries that create these products may be both savvy and cynical in their attempt to convince parents that they need to spend lots of money on these things. In particular, purveyors of child safety products have cultivated fear in a vulnerable and suggestible group—new mothers—to make sales. The catalogues follow a new mother home, and proliferate over the early years. Child safety catalogues and websites are a veritable shop of horrors: specters of drowning, suffocation, electrocution, scalding, SIDS, bumps, and gashes come to life on every page. Mothers are thus in a bind, propelled by a fierce love and desire to help their children grow ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 53

 and be safe, and survive, knowing all too well that life is fragile and evanescent. Common sense no longer seems adequate alongside the specter of tragedy; to protect their children from harm, mothers must be prepared for all eventualities, armed with the correct-- and often expensive -- products. They are reminded again and again that they are only one tipping television, one recalled car seat, one unlocked door, one lead paint chip away from nightmare. And while some child safety products may prevent injuries, they belie the reality that no home can be made completely child-safe. In truth, basic safety needs for most babies can still be met at little or no cost, and careful supervision, the most important safety measure, is not sold in stores.

Fear may sell products, but it also has implications for the well being of both the mothers and their children; anxious households produce worried kids. Research shows that anxious mothers can pass their anxiety onto their children (e.g., Turner, Beidel, & Costello, 1987;

Woodruff-Borden et al., 2002), that disturbed mother/child interactions have been implicated in this process (e.g., Chorpita & Barlow, 1998; Rapee, 2001), and that mothers with anxiety disorders are less warm, less likely to grant autonomy, and more likely to catastrophize (Whaley,

Pinto, & Sigman, 1999). First-time older mothers have been shown as a cohort to experience heightened anxiety (e.g., Shaw & Giles, 2009; Windridge & Berryman, 1999). In fact, if one were to develop a profile of the kind of mother most likely to buy child surveillance and safety products, a new midlife mother might be the ideal candidate, at least in the abstract: she has money to spend; she has access to the media; she takes the advice of experts seriously; she uses her skills to prepare assiduously; she has little experience with infants; she may not have social support; she has experienced loss; she has been primed to consider pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood risky; and her baby may represent her only shot at motherhood. For the new midlife mother, safety fears loom especially large, and our cultural obsession with surveillance and ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 54

 control are the backdrop to her maternal experience. Her love makes her even more vulnerable to fear, worry, shame, and blame – and the desire to pay what it takes to feel less distressed.

This fear is toxic for both mothers and children. As a culture, we are bubble-wrapping our children in helmets and kneepads, hampering their exploration with GPS trackers, and denying their right to bumps and bruises, both literal and metaphorical, on their developmental journey. We need to remember the lesson of immunity, for what it teaches us about germs specifically, and risks more generally. As our culture has become increasingly obsessed with cleanliness and hygiene, the anti-bacterial industry has boomed with goods with antibacterial properties including antibacterial soaps, wipes, cutting boards, storage containers, chopsticks, socks, slippers, sheets, mattresses, and toys. We have been instructed to wash and wash, and to assiduously slather our kids’ hands with scented sanitizer in an effort to ensure their health.

Meanwhile, we’ve been getting rid of too many germs, and actually may be causing potential harm. Research has shown over and over again that a little dirt is beneficial: for instance, kids who grew up on farms exposed to cattle have 50% less asthma than their counterparts; and infants six to 12 months old who attend daycare are 75% less likely to develop asthma than their stay-at-home counterparts (Paul, 2008). The theory suggests that early exposure to germs teaches an infant’s immune system to regulate itself. Conversely, hypersanitized childhoods may play a role in the development of allergies, asthma, and other diseases.

Similarly, hypersafe childhoods may interfere with healthy psychological development.

Child psychologist Dan Kindlon calls this phenomenon “psychological immunity” (as cited in

Gottleib, 2011). He explains, “Kids need exposure to discomfort, failure, and struggle Civilization is about adapting to less-than-perfect situations, yet parents often have this instantaneous reaction to unpleasantness, which is ‘I can fix this’” (Gottlieb, 2011, p. 2). For ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 55

 instance, if parents swoop in to comfort their children every time they fall, this paradoxically may prevent them from feeling secure, since they never develop a blueprint for recovery, or a sense of their own resilience. Kids need to be granted the space to founder, and solve problems on their own. As Mogel (2001) has written, children need to learn they can survive ordinary hardship; there is, perhaps, a hidden blessing in surviving a skinned knee. Parents also need to discover that we can get through moments of fear, worry, and concern; if the baby gets some rug burns on her knees from crawling on the carpet, and the teenager comes home past curfew, it might be worrisome or scary, but doesn’t warrant knee pads and GPS shoes. As Paul (2008) explains, “inundating our homes with baby gear, and overloading our children’s lives with superfluous and even counterproductive stuff undermines parental confidence” (p. 17). We all need to grapple with confusion and learn from mistakes and bobbles. We all need to learn that these moments are intrinsic to our development and growth and health —and this discovery applies to a sense of resilience and confidence in both parents and their beloved children.

Indeed, it is arguable that we are worrying about remote dangers and invisible germs as a kind of collective unconscious response to the horror that does exist. With 22% of kids in the

U.S. living in poverty (U.S. Bureau of Census, 2010) and 7.8% of kids without health insurance

(National Center for Health Statistics, 2011), we are right to worry. Nine children are killed every day by a gun and many more are critically wounded (U. S. Centers for Disease Control and

Prevention, 2009). Where are their stories in the news? Where is the outrage? Here’s a danger that can be prevented, but we’d rather sell GermX, and movement detecting baby monitors than provide affordable healthcare or confront the gun lobby. Mothers need to use their considerable monetary influence and buying power to demand news and products not solely based on fearmongering and profiteering, but that actually have an effect on childhood safety and well ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 56

 being.

For midlife mothers, concerns of safety and survival for their children are entwined with fears of loss of maternal identity. The losses they have encountered and the preciousness of the frequently only child make them even more susceptible to fears. Some midlife mothers may need help finding a foothold to reach a vantage above the smog of our cultural paranoia and blame.

From this vista, they may be able to breathe more deeply and see more clearly, enabling them to mother from a position of possibility and power. The reality is that we can’t foretell the future, and we can’t protect against all possibilities, dire and otherwise. Further, we needn’t strive for this kind of control and hypervigilance. Instead, we need to shrug off the trappings of consumerism and play around in the dirt with our kids; there is no greater immunization from life’s uncertainty than loving your child today. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 57

 Essay 3. The Mother Load

The older first-time mother has a lot at stake in assuming the mothering role. She has waited for a long time to have a baby, the journey to motherhood may have been filled with physical, emotional, and economic roadblocks, and, for many, this may be her only child. For most older new moms, becoming a mother is something they have longed for; with anticipation comes intensity, and high expectation. These women tend to have skills and accomplishments won through age and experience, and they may have prepared extensively for their new job as mother.

Despite their planning, new midlife mothers are at risk for a reality shock when their high anticipation collides with typically little prior experience with infants (Mercer, 1986, Reece,

1995). The transition into motherhood can become more challenging when established identities and relationships in the workforce and with peers fall away, leaving the new older mother to face her high expectations for success, with diminished social support. Further, depending on their health and energy levels, her own aging parents may not be able to provide as much assistance with the caretaking of their grandchildren as younger grandparents could and historically have provided.

This is not just a personal challenge. The cultural context compounds the issues in ways that render older new mothers particularly vulnerable. Today’s mothers are barraged by so-called expert advice about how to be a good mother; this “expertization” of motherhood is so pervasive and influential as to have launched entire multi-million dollar industries. The current Western ideology of good mothering is intensive at best and oppressive at worst; attachment theory and infant development research have been co-opted to diminish the subjectivity and confidence of the mother. This is a heavy burden to carry for any mother; I propose that the new older mother, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 58

 with her high self-expectations, her high stakes, her desire to do this thing right, as well as her educational and financial resources, might be particularly vulnerable to a steady stream of messages dictating standards of idealization and perfection. These messages, which sell books and products, also exacerbate feelings of isolation, anxiety, and depression. Contemporary mothering doctrine, in its exacting and paternalistic expectations, prescribes a set of guidelines that are particularly toxic for new older mothers.

Mothering Ideology

Feminist historians have argued that motherhood is not purely biological or natural; instead it is a cultural construction that is shaped by economic and societal factors, by time and place. There is no essential, universal experience of motherhood, and standards for mothering are socially determined, and, thus, subject to change (Medina & Magnuson, 2009; O’Reilly, 2006).

As Thurer (1994) describes in The Myths of Motherhood: How Culture Reinvents the Good

Mother:

Motherhood— the way we perform mothering— is culturally derived. Each society has

its own mythology, complete with rituals, beliefs, expectations, norms and symbols. Our

received models of motherhood are not necessarily better or worse than many [any?]

others. Our particular idea of what constitutes a good mother is only that, an idea, not an

eternal verity. The good mother is reinvented as each age or society defines her anew, in

its own terms, according to its own mythology (p. xv).

These myths are “like air:” pervasive but invisible (Thurer, 1994, p. xv). Nevertheless, they are undeniably powerful, influencing our belief structures about what it means to be a child, and a mother, and how women should inhabit these roles. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 59

 Intensive mothering. A cursory glance at child-rearing practices across history shows that fashions change: practices that stem from well-meaning intentions in one generation can seem ridiculous, or even abusive, in another (O’Reilly, 2006). For instance, bottle-feeding on a rigid schedule, and potty training at three months was common practice a generation or two ago, but seem outdated and overbearing, viewed through our contemporary lens. Our current ideal of the mother, like all ideologies, is culture-bound and specific to our context, and our conceptual framework for understanding children. We are all familiar with our good mother, even though she has changed in some particulars over time. As Chase and Rogers (2001) describe her today:

Above all, she is selfless. Her children come before herself and any other need or person

or commitment, no matter what. She loves her children unconditionally yet she is careful

not to smother them with love and her own needs. She follows the advice of doctors and

other experts and she educates herself about child development. She is ever present in her

children’s lives when they are young, and when they get older she is home everyday to

greet them as they return from school. If she works outside the home she arranges her job

around her children so she can be there for them as much as possible, certainly whenever

they are sick or unhappy. The good mother’s success is reflected in her children’s

behavior—they are well mannered and respectful to others; at the same time they have a

strong sense of independence and self-esteem. They grow up to be productive citizens. (p.

30)

In The Cultural Contradictions of Motherhood, Sharon Hays (1996) dubs this current, dominant model of mothering intensive mothering. Intensive mothering is built on several assumptions: (a) mothers are the ideal and preferred caretakers of children; (b) children are considered to be sacred and “their price immeasurable” (Hays, p. 54); (c) mothers are fully satisfied, fulfilled, and ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 60

 completed by motherhood; and (d) mothering should be guided by experts, emotionally consuming, and labor intensive. An underlying implication is that ideally, women should only become mothers if they have the resources and time to stay home, or at least have flexible work schedules. As the Chase and Rogers quote begins, “she is selfless,” or self-less and self- sacrificing. Intensive mothering, as a cultural model, requires empathy and altruism almost to the point of martyrdom. As Thurer (1994) describes, “On delivering a child, a woman becomes a life-support system. Her personal desires either evaporate or metamorphose so that they are identical with those of her infant. Once she attains motherhood, a woman must hand in her point of view” (p. xxvii).

Some of the ideology here seems to be a backlash to feminist advances of a generation ago. In the sixties and seventies, Betty Friedan (1963) and Adrienne Rich (1976) described women’s lives as tranquilized by a dearth of available opportunities outside of stay-at-home motherhood. In her book The Mask of Motherhood (1999), Maushart argues that in our current,

“post-feminist” era, women’s lives have gone to the other extreme, trying to incorporate so many facets that it is difficult to assimilate it all. Maushart claims that the word today’s women use more than any other to describe how they manage their lives is the verb “to juggle.”

Contemporary mothers fulfill multiple social roles while striving to meet expectations to

“nurture, schedule, taxi, and feed their families” (Medina & Magnuson, 2009, p. 91). And as

Arlie Hochschild (2003) described so clearly in The Second Shift, most men have not altered their level of engagement at home; most working mothers are, in fact, doing it all. Within this new ideology, opportunities can feel compulsory. Children are participating in more extra- curricular activities that require transportation and active parental environment—and mothers are doing most of the juggling. A recent study revisited this gender gap in dual-earner families, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 61

 examining multitasking in both mothers and fathers, and how they felt while multitasking.

Mothers were found to spend 10 more hours a week multitasking compared to fathers, and these hours were spent on housework and childcare. For mothers, these multitasking activities were associated with negative emotions, stress, psychological distress, and work-family conflict.

Conversely, father’s multitasking was not perceived as a negative experience (Offer &

Schneider, 2001). Thus, multitasking is a significant source of gender inequity in parenting; mothers are still more burdened and stressed, and are still doing more, even when parenting workloads are similar.

Douglas and Michaels (2004) suggest that, as a society, we’ve traded in our stereotypical image of mother from the fictional June Cleaver to larger-than-life superstars like Angelina Jolie.

The comparison group is no longer other mothers in the neighborhood, but the rich and famous.

In today’s celebrity culture, “supermoms” seem to have it all, and may contribute to feelings of inadequacy and insecurity in “real” mothers. Trying to meet impossible expectations, for the new older mother, juggling just one infant can be extreme.

In a related backlash to feminism, a resurgence of a domestic ideal surrounding motherhood in popular culture has added to the pressure that mothers currently face (Thurer,

1994; Warner, 2005). Magazines like Real Simple and Martha Stewart Living idealize uncluttered, beautiful homes, and exquisite homemade cupcakes for every month of the year.

Images of peaceful motherhood, reminiscent of the Madonna and infant, paint a picture of mothering in a bubble without constraints of time, chaotic home lives, or busy/frantic schedules.

Much value in American culture is placed on how things look, and mothers are granted no exceptions (Douglas & Michaels, 2004). People Magazine regularly profiles older celebrity mothers who dress their children in designer clothes, are back to pre-baby weight in weeks (or ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 62

 who have surrogates), and whose nurseries are replete with the latest décor. Perfection, then, is expected not only in culturally sanctioned approaches to parenting, but also in appearances and material trappings. The appearance of effortless domesticity remains an integral part of the dominant mothering discourse, and stands in stark contrast to the bleary, stained, and frazzled reality of motherhood during early infancy.

Hays (1996) has criticized intensive mothering ideology as undercutting gains made toward gender equity; it constrains women’s options, and devalues men in the parenting role.

Further, the dominant ideology is based on a construction of an ideal family that is White, middle class, and heterosexual; if you are “other,” you don’t measure up (Thurer, 1996). Mothers often feel pressure within this construct to stay at home with their children if it is financially feasible

(Medina & Magnusen, 2009), and mothers who are in the middle and upper classes who choose to work may be judged for deviating from the ideal. Thus, even women within this narrow demographic band are subject to criticism, guilt, and shame.

Birth of an ideology. In contemporary American society, the story of the “good” mother has become the story of an ideal, selfless, “perfect” mother, who puts the needs of her child before her own needs. In this cultural mythology, the good mother is martyr, and the subject of the story is the child. It seems paradoxical that in an age in which society purports to value the fulfillment of women as individuals, we have a maternal ethos and ideal that seems to deny them any measure of subjectivity (Thurer, 1994). How has this ideal of maternal perfection come to dominate current conceptions of mothering and created untenable expectations for mothers? And why do mothers feel like they have to live up to such unattainable expectations? This contemporary ideology is interwoven with historic and cultural paradigm shifts. In order to trace the development of intensive mothering, we can examine what the “experts” on motherhood ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 63

 have advised, noting how they reflect their times, and how the seeds of our current mothering dictates have taken root and flourished.

Rise of the expert. It is likely that women have always needed to learn how to be mothers. However, in earlier centuries, this mother-knowledge was passed along through female support networks: between friends, from mother to daughter, between sisters, and from extended family. By the late 18th century, books aimed at new mothers were available in Britain and the

United States, predicated on the notion of “common sense” advice (Marshall, 1991). The turn of the 20th century heralded a takeover of childrearing by science, and the medicalization of childbirth and childcare. Child-rearing manuals began to be presented as scientific tracts, and were written by experts, including nurses, doctors, and psychologists. Knowledge about children based on profession gained esteem over parental knowledge (Thurer, 1994). An authorized version of correct mothering began to gain traction, and, concurrently, experiential knowledge lost value. The best way to give birth, the best way to feed babies, the best way to care for children’s physical and emotional needs was given over for experts to decide. Mothering became subject of external comment, censure, and judgment, and defined as good and bad by expert opinion. In this way mothers began to be policed by the “gaze of others” (Ruddick, 1989).

These manuals were, and continue to be, helpful and informative to mothers eager for advice during a time of transition, and for a task and role of undeniable import; however, this literature also has required women to surrender power over themselves and their children to experts and ideology. This isn’t to say that they render women passive or compliant; but the rules and regulations scripted by experts frame women’s possibilities, even in an act of embracing or rejecting the model of the “good mother” (Marotta, 2008). Anthropologist Sheila Kitzinger

(1995) asserts that there is no evidence that detailed information about how to perform mothering ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 64

 tasks actually makes women better mothers. Further, she notes experts have biases, intellectualizing can make the job of mothering harder, and experts often focus on specific areas of behavior, ignoring the larger context. Many of the most respected and widely read experts have been men (e.g., Spock, Brazelton, Sears), doling out thoughtful, if paternal advice about mothering to women. Yet, the advice of experts both shapes and is shaped by the dominant discourses of the time; the men—and women —writing these texts are affected and constrained by the ideas and zeitgeist of their experiences; their words, as read by millions of mothers, promulgate numerous unsubstantiated ideas, ossifying them in the cultural field.

Shifting paradigms. In the late 1940s, a sea change occurred in parenting attitudes, planting the seeds of our current ideology. In a post-WWII era, the West was reinventing itself and distancing itself from philosophies reminiscent of totalitarianism. In parenting, this meant a shift from behaviorism, eugenics, and the discipline and order that were called for during militaristic and tough economic times (Hays, 1996). The behavioral psychologist, John B.

Watson’s book The Psychological Care of Infant and Child was published in 1928, stressing regularity, discipline, and cleanliness. Cuddling was akin to spoiling, and therefore verboten. His was a scientific method of child-rearing that appealed during this age of scientific thought. In this model, adult interests guided childrearing, and much emphasis was placed on shaping children to fit into an adult world (Thurer, 1994). Two decades later, a societal restructuring occurred during

World War Two as women began working full-time outside of the home. Fortuitously, the ideas promoted by Watson—primarily that raising children was an exercise in shaping behaviors through techniques in stimulus-response—meant that anyone who was properly trained could succeed. In this philosophy, mothers were replaceable. They needed to fill jobs and take on roles ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 65

 previously closed to them. And perhaps they entered the work force without undue concern; the mothering ideology of the time allowed for guiltless time away from their children.

As soldiers returned, employment opportunities dwindled and women returned to the home. The zeitgeist changed: the economy was booming and consumerism was on the rise. It was a time of freedom and possibility. By this new expansive reasoning, children should also be free; the scientific parenting techniques previously prescribed by experts were cast off in favor of a new permissiveness (Thurer, 1994). According to Thurer, “the goal of child care was no longer to stymie the natural inclinations of the infant, but to give them free rein” (p. 42). This shift could be seen across many spheres: in education, the progressive movement highlighting by the creative ideas of John Dewey; in psychotherapy, client-centered therapy of Carl Rogers emphasizing self-actualization; the research of Margaret Mead showing the benefits of the relaxed approach of Samoan childrearing. As infant research grew, the notion that “there are no problem children, only problem parents” also gained traction. In this permissive era, the child’s needs and desires were primary, and dictated child rearing practices. In other words, the common wisdom transformed one hundred eighty degrees: now the child trained the parent (Thurer,

1994).

Of course, the needs of the child were interpreted by experts. More permissive childrearing was popularized by experts of the time like psychoanalyst Selma Fraiberg, and pediatrician Benjamin Spock, whose The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care (1946) became a reference book, with hundreds of printings, multiple editions, and selling millions of copies. Spock began with the memorable words: “Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do,” (p. ii) then proceeded to tell the reader everything s/he didn’t know. Dr. Spock advocated for more autonomy for the child, including on-demand feeding, and potty training on ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 66

 the child’s schedule. Mothers were required to stay home to meet these needs (Hays, 1996). The developmental theories of Freud, Erikson, and Piaget also trickled down into the expert advice, which in turn reified and popularized them. As distilled by Hays, these theories in their popular form suggested “that parents needed to guard against a wide variety of childhood fears and anxieties by carefully fostering a basic sense of trust between parent and child, that infancy and early childhood were the stages most critical to the child’s overall development, and that good parents would “naturally” want to acquire further knowledge of cognitive and emotional development in order to prepare themselves to meet the child’s needs during those early stages”

(p. 47). At this point several precepts of intensive ideology fell into place: child rearing was expert-guided, child-centered, and more consuming both emotionally and in terms of the labor required.

Becoming attached. At around this time, the ideas of British psychoanalyst John Bowlby were also taking root. The architect of “attachment theory,” Bowlby was influential in our modern conception of the mother-child relationship. The centerpiece of his theory is the instinctual, adaptive bond between mother and child that shapes emotional experience (Mitchell

& Black, 1995). According to attachment theory, attachment is a survival mechanism: infants seek closeness to an identified attachment figure in situations of perceived distress or alarm.

Infants become securely attached when they have consistent caregivers who are responsive in social interactions. In this theory, caregiver responses to their infants create patterns of attachment that become internal working models (of the self, others, and the world) that guide feelings, thoughts, and expectations in later relationships. Events that interfere with attachment, such as an abrupt separation or insensitivity, unresponsiveness, or inconsistency in caregiver interactions, can negatively impact the child’s emotional and cognitive well-being in both the ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 67

 short- and long-term (Bowlby, 1969). Within this theoretical frame, the degree of maternal attunement and sensitivity predicts the level of attachment security in her infant. Mother love (or the love of a permanent mother substitute) is crucial, and “maternal deprivation” in the first three years of life is irreparably damaging: “mother love in infancy is as important for mental health as proteins and vitamins for physical health” (Bowlby, 1951, p 124).

At the time, Bowlby’s focus of research was on babies in institutions and residential care who were receiving minimal care; their emotional development was severely neglected.

Similarly, children in foster care or requiring extended hospitalizations away from family were also being harmed by the lack of attachment security (Thurer, 1994). The humanization of these practices owes a debt to Bowlby, who shone a light on the emotional worlds of infants and children. Further, the popularization of his views solidified the conviction that mothers (or primary caregivers) matter, and that love matters in the life of the baby, the child, and the adult.

The popular adoption of Bowlby’s views has had many positive and lasting effects: for example, these ideas further challenged inhumane practices of doctors, who dismissed children’s distress on separation as trivial, or as bad behavior resulting from a mother’s spoiling (Hays, 1996).

Along with the humanity of Bowlby’s views came a new overreaching insistence on the importance of the relationship with one person- the mother- on the child’s development. The popularized and literal translation of attachment theory has two prongs: mothers of young children must be constantly available to them; and the future mental health of the child is entirely dependent on the sensitivity and attunement of the mothering received in the first few years of life (Hays, 1994). This is, needless to say, a very heavy burden, and one that denies the salutary impact and developmental relevance of fathers, siblings, extended family, and community supports—and therefore, taken to its logical conclusion, precludes a good mother from working ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 68

 outside the home. In England, as Bowlby’s ideas gained traction, the response was particularly severe: nursery schools stopped admitting children under the age of three, and women were told by doctors, nurses, and psychologists that going to work put their young children at risk (Hays,

1996).

A preoccupation with the mother-infant bond has become indelibly etched into popular culture; it describes the mixed legacy of Bowlby’s work. The empirically-unsubstantiated idea that there is a critical, biologically based window after birth for a mother to cement a bond with her baby still persists; many pediatricians and childcare manuals continue to use the concept of maternal bonding as a reason for the mother to stay home for years after birth. Research has demonstrated that some of Bowlby’s ideas taken literally or to extremes do not hold water: for example, Rutter (1981) gathered evidence that showed that separation from mother does not in itself cause harmful effects; daycare is not in itself psychologically damaging (e.g., Eyer, 1992); the early years are not decisive for development (e.g., Eyer, 1992; Siegel, 2004); recovery from early trauma is possible (Siegel, 2011); children can attach to multiple caretakers without negative results; and genes interact with experience to shape child and brain development

(Seigel, 2004). Attachment relationships and neurobiology have more gradations and nuance than the popularized version portrays.

The evidence to the contrary suggests, for example, that young children may suffer initial distress when their mothers go to work, but that they are unlikely to suffer psychological damage

(Eyer, 1992). They might even benefit from social relationships outside of the home. Young children become attached to children they play with, and people who look after them, and these attachments are unlikely to weaken their attachment to their mothers. Indeed, more loving relationships are protective factors. Most current researchers, even those who are proponents of a ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 69

 primary psychological relationship, concur that the more love, and variety of relationships, the better (O’Reilly, 2006; Siegel, 2004). Of course, this summary of the issues only touches on the elements of very complex, and emotionally-infused debate. Even as neuroscience and developmental psychology weigh in with more sophisticated and longitudinal studies, the mother load doesn’t seem to get any lighter. To be sure, secure attachment has benefits across all developmental domains, and this point alone is enough to keep a concerned mother up at night.

Indeed, such criticisms do not devalue Bowlby’s work, or argue its merit, but put it in context. In fact, more nuanced findings do little to unravel the power that the idea of maternal bonding and attachment has on the birth of our “good mother.” The ideas of Bowlby have become so woven into our cultural fabric that this attachment language has become—for better and for worse-- part of parenting language. Fear of not successfully bonding, and of doing potentially unspeakable damage to children by making mistakes, haunts mothers (Warner, 2005).

Although no mother can be perfectly attuned to her child, many women have felt paralyzed by fear of damage by limits, inattention, frustration, and inevitable imperfection.

Recent shifts. While the post-war “good” mother was required to stay home and adequately bond with her child during the early years, it wasn’t until the 1980s that the idea of

“quality time,” as encouraged by experts, truly took hold. Until this shift, mothers were ideally at home, but children were often running around the neighborhood playing with other children, entertaining each other and themselves (O’Reilly, 2008). The good mother needed to be nearby and available, but her primary location was in the home, as a homemaker. Since the 1980s,

“good” mothers need to be more hands-on with their babies; young children experts instruct mothers to play with their children, read to them (even in utero), and take classes with them. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 70

 Today there are classes for children as young as three months, that include, for example, mom and infant swimming, French immersion for toddlers, karate, skating, art, nature adventures—many activities that seem fairly outlandish on the face of it. Contemporary mothers spend more time with their kids and more money on them; this intensification of an already intensive ideology of the good mother comes at a time when more and more mothers are also in the workforce. As families have been getting smaller, more professional and highly educated mothers have been waiting longer to have children. These women approach motherhood as they would their career: with a highly scheduled seriousness of purpose, solid research, and an eye to enrichment and success (O’Reilly, 2008).

Further, as access to, and variety of, media have exploded in the last 25 years, advice texts have become pervasive and mainstream, and include, for example, magazines, pamphlets, videos, television programs, websites, blogs, and books; although these media often use the word

“parenting” to describe their mission, they are aimed primarily at mothers. Currently, amazon.com has a listing of more than 49,000 books on parenting, and over two dozen parenting magazines with a combined circulation of over 30 million (MRI Doublebase, 2010, as cited in the Parenting Group Media Kit). The Parenting Group alone (which publishes Parenting,

Babytalk, and launched parenting.com) has a subscription readership of 5.2 million readers, boasts 10 million page views per month, 40,000 Facebook fans, 90,000 twitter followers, and reaches 9.4 million moms all told (MRI Doublebase, 2010, as cited in the Parenting Group

Media Kit).

Although the tenets of the current dominant, intensive brand of mothering sluice through much of the current literature, the expertise is often remarkably conflicting frequently based on personal beliefs and political agendas, as much as empirical research. This dizzying array of ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 71

 information can be confusing and overwhelming, and makes living up to a maternal ideal even more elusive. The very notion of expert-driven parenting has become a tenet of intensive mothering; a good mother keeps up with current research, and pays attention to what the experts say. She finds her “experts” and defends their credos as if her own.

Mothers must engage in the seeming tyranny of meeting their children’s needs, according to current wisdom. It is likely that new scientific research that emphasizes the essential nature of the first five years of life in the intellectual, behavioral, emotional and social development of the child has magnified the needs of the child, intensifying the responsibility, and eliminating the subjective experience of the mothers. Never have the stakes been so high: if you want your child to become successful, listen to the experts, sign up for the right classes, and buy the right stuff. If you do not, it not only jeopardizes your child’s well-being and future, but also exposes your inadequacy as a parent.

The popular assumption that mothers have major (if not exclusive) responsibility for their child’s development is not exactly new. When children struggle, there is a long-standing tradition of placing the blame squarely on the mothers’ shoulders. What is new is perhaps the merging of this onerous sense of responsibility with unfettered commerce. Mothers’ desire to do what’s best for their children has been exploited—and intensified—by manufacturers eager to make some money on a captive and fearful consumer group. The ideas of child development experts have driven the creation of a new category of playthings: developmental toys (Warner,

2005). Toys that play Mozart, special stimulating black and white mobiles, and Baby Einstein

DVDs were ostensibly based on research on how to stimulate children’s brain development.

Thus, pressure even surrounds play: if play is a vehicle for learning, then choosing the “right” toys takes on heightened importance. On the Fisher Price website, for example, an interactive ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 72

 section titled, “Play Tips: Choosing the Right Toy at the Right Time” allows the reader to navigate through by month, learning which toy should be bought (“www.fisherprice.com”). As the website explains in its section, Why We Developed Play Tips,

Parents have told us time and again that they'd love some help choosing the right toys at

the right stage of their child's development. The play tips section of our website was

created to offer that help, with recommendations of toys ideally suited for young children

from birth to 5 and up. They are offered by Dr. Kathleen Alfano from her many years

working—and playing!—with children in our own Fisher-Price Playlab.

There is nothing particularly offensive about this site, but it reveals the industry that capitalizes on parents’ desire to ensure their child’s developmental progress, and illustrates the profound impact the “expert” can have in our mothering discourse. Play has become developmental science , engendering “playlabs,” and summoning visions of antiseptic white coats and clipboards, when a generation ago, babies may have seemed contented sitting on the kitchen floor banging pots and pans with wooden spoons. Additionally, according to Thurer (1994), “in the current mother mythology, children are seen as eminently perfectible” (p. 300). This idea resonates with the ideals of our time, proclaiming, that if we work hard enough at it, all of our children can be, like in Lake Woebegone, above average; if there is a parental will, there is a way. It is clear, at least from a marketing perspective, that the way involves spending unprecedented amounts of time and, better yet, money on a child. This kind of investment is itself another challenge for mothers who feel they must work to fund the activities and products their children need—taking away from the very “quality time” experts extoll to ensure the development and success of their children.

Beyond this irony lies the reality that such “developmental toys” are often a sham. In one ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 73

 particularly illuminating example, in 2009, the Baby Einstein Company (owned by Walt Disney

Company) settled under threat of a class action lawsuit for unfair and deceptive practices, refunding $15.99 for up to four “Baby Einstein” DVDs per household, bought between June

2004 and September 2009. The company’s marketing offered claims that their videos (including

“Baby Mozart,” “Baby Shakespeare,” and “Baby Galileo”) were educational and beneficial for early childhood development, all of which were found to be false. The American Academy of

Pediatrics further undermined the claims by recommending no screen time at all for children under two years of age (Lewin, 2009).

Mothers, eager to give their babies every advantage, were duped in large numbers just by this one claim. According to a 2003 study, a third of all American babies from 6 months to 2 years old had at least one “Baby Einstein” video. They were somehow lured by the fantasy that sitting their babies in front of a video of puppets reciting Shakespeare sonnets would ensure their healthy brain development and increased intellect. In fact, Baby Einstein sold $200 million worth of products in 2003 alone (Lewin, 2009). If such parental naiveté seems incredible, it speaks volumes to the power of the myth: babies are perfectible, and it is the job of the parent to provide and pay for every product that might leverage the earliest possible advantage.

Attachment parenting: Bowlby meets quality time. The stressful issue of “quality time” is best exemplified by the hijacking of attachment theory to prescribe more extreme parenting practices. Attachment Parenting is a term coined by Bill and Martha Sears, authors of the very popular The Baby Book (2003). Pediatrician Bill Sears and his wife, Martha, a nurse, invoke their professional expertise, as well as their experiential knowledge, gained in raising their eight children. The book is encyclopedic in weight, devoting 700 pages to the first two years of life. The philosophic core or the book borrows and translates from the attachment ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 74

 literature. Dr. Sears’s message is clear: you will be the best mother, and your children will turn out best, if you follow his attachment instructions. Implicit—and at times explicit-- is the warning that if you fail to put your children first, they will be disadvantaged for the rest of their lives. Dr. Sears claims that science and research are on his side (although there are no citations or bibliographies in the book). Indeed, he warns “susceptible” mothers away from other advice:

“We realize that love for your baby and the desire to be a good parent makes you susceptible to any baby-rearing advice. But children are too valuable and parents too vulnerable for any author to offer unresearched information Every statement has been thoroughly researched and has stood the test of time” (p. xiii).

To assure sufficient attachment, Sears advocates the 5 Bs: (a) birth-bonding (immediate physical bonding between mother and infant in the moments and hours following birth; (b) belief in baby’s cries (immediate response to baby’s cues); (c) breastfeeding; (d) baby-wearing

(carrying baby in a sling as often as possible); and (e) bedding close to baby (Sears, 2003). In addition, this philosophy minimizes arbitrary deadlines for milestones such as weaning, toilet training, and sleeping through the night. Sears argues the benefits to attachment parenting are many: attachment parents are more confident and enjoy parenting more than their non- attachment parenting counterparts; children of attachment parents are easier to discipline, have better physical health, are more intelligent, enjoy improved development, have a lower incidence of hyperactivity, and have strong social consciences.

It is hard to argue with these compelling ideas, whether or not Sears has done the necessary research to back them up. If I were to locate myself in terms of this philosophy, I’d readily concede that in many ways, I considered myself an attachment parent. I find many of the core ideas Sears advocates to be appealing. I am certainly in favor of loving relationships! But, it ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 75

 is clear that the research-based claims that Sears makes are inflated; for instance, he offers no citations for research to support his claims of lower incidences of hyperactivity or strong social consciences of “AP children” besides anecdotes; in general, the research Sears hints at extolls the positive effects of secure attachment, not his specific brand of Attachment Parenting. There are evidently many ways for caretakers to form secure attachments with their infants, if, as large-scale studies on attachment suggest, about 65 percent of infants are securely attached (van

IJzendoorn & Bakermans-Kranenburg, 1996). Secure attachment relies on caregivers who are emotionally available, perceptive, and responsive to their infants’ mental states and needs; caregivers who are sensitive to their babies’ signals most often have infants who are securely attached (Siegel, 2004).

Research has shown that one of the most powerful predictors of a child’s attachment is the coherence of the parent’s life narrative, not Attachment Parenting. Parenting is an opportunity for lifelong learning; it puts us in the position to become emotionally connected, and to experience mutuality, even if we haven’t experienced it in our own childhoods. Ruptures and lack of attunement are inevitable; indeed, in their repair, they are also essential elements for secure attachment. Impossible expectations are, in fact, toxic to relationships, and to the mothers themselves. Secure attachment does not require martyrdom on the part of the mother, nor perfection. Indeed, martyrdom may disrupt secure attachment: a mother who does not strike a balance in her life, who does not give herself the space and time to grow and to understand herself, may be less able to be emotionally present and available to her child (Siegel, 2004).

Further, attunement—the mental and emotional resonance between infant and caregiver— involves knowing when to move toward an interaction with a child and when to back off to give emotional space (Siegel, 2004). In fact, and contrary to some of the dictates of Attachment ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 76

 Parenting, too much intrusion on the part of the caregiver can lead to an insecure, ambivalent attachment. In this circumstance, an overstimulating parent demonstrates there is inadequate respect for the child’s needs for both interaction and solitude; the child learns that the parent will unpredictably disrupt his or her mental state and that he can’t regulate on his own. Such self- and co-regulation are part of the dance of attunement (Stern, 1985); there are always times of disconnection, which are not necessarily problematic and can be followed by repair and reconnection. Perfection is not necessary, nor desirable.

Indeed, the style of parenting Sears’s advocates is certainly intensive and highly demanding, to the point of potential exhaustion. To this critique, Sears counters, “In the long-run, it’s actually the easiest parenting style,” because once a mother understands her baby’s cues, the frustration and confusion of early parenting is over. This, he suggests, minimizes the kind of depletion and fatigue that on-demand breastfeeding, constant babywearing, and lack of sleep schedule, marital privacy, and attention to self-care, can engender. This advice also places a disproportionate weight on the first few months. Once the frustration and confusion of early parenting are over, it’s time to engage in the frustration and confusion of life with a toddler, a seven year old, an adolescent. Would that it were this simple.

How does this set of expert recommendations apply to the older first time mother with a career to maintain, and an identity of her own? Sears’s position on employment is that working outside the home is fine; he maintains that the issue is one of attachment. However, in the chapter entitled, “Working and Parenting,” the underlying value is placed on full-time motherhood. Sears emphasizes that working mothers miss milestones, and “teachable moments.”

According to Sears, when mother spends time away from the baby, “there is a lessening of the benefits of mother-infant attachment.” He continues, without citing any studies at all: “In recent ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 77

 years, there has been a flurry of research validating, almost down to the cellular level, the importance of mother’s presence” (Sears, 2004, p.19). Even cells need mommy to be home, according to Sears. There is no way to access this “flurry of research;” however, the recent attachment literature does not bear any of this out. In particular, for example, the literature on the attachment success for primary nurturing fathers is quite robust (e.g., Pruett, 1992); nowhere does the data require that mother be the primary attachment figure. Still, Sears scolds mothers who are considering returning to work, “are there desired luxuries that can be temporarily put off? No material possessions are more valuable to your infant than you are (p. 19).” Here Sears makes it clear that he’s writing to mothers; the mother has got to be the person doing the attachment “parenting” in this philosophy.

For mothers who seek to raise their children thoughtfully, to move toward equality, to have balance in their lives, and to assert themselves in the larger world, this book uses selective, uncited, research as a scare tactic. Sears co-opts and distorts attachment theory to simplify the complexity of raising a secure child. He overlooks the myriad of confounding and unpredictable life realities (including economics) to dictate what “good” mothering must look like. And, lest the connection between marketing and expertise might seem irrelevant or cynical here, the Sears’ have conveniently provided a website where mothers can shop for attachment parenting goods like slings, infant vitamins, and flavored milk to ensure the healthy development of their children.

The attachment parenting movement advocates a kind of parenting that in many ways requires that mothers relinquish their selves in the service of their children, mirroring and promulgating the intensive mothering ideology inherent to our current dominant discourse. But attachment parenting is only one of a stunning array of parenting philosophies being advocated ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 78

 by myriad experts, confident that they have definitive answers. It doesn’t matter whether the philosophies seem to be in polar opposition, the axis remains the same: whether co-sleeping or sleep training, the bottom line is that you’d better get it right, or you may do irreparable damage to your child. Further, there is a right way to do it, if mothers can just find the right expert to listen to.

Breast is best. An example of an issue that has been co-opted by the dominant intensive mothering ideology is the swirling, emotional discourse surrounding breastfeeding.

Breastfeeding is constructed as the ultimate and most natural feeding method; it is considered the healthiest way to feed a child, and one that promotes mother-infant bonding. According to the

Centers for Disease Control, “breastfeeding provides a wide range of benefits to the mother, child, and community, and reaching higher prevalence of infant breastfeeding is an important public health goal” (Gummer-Strawn, 2009, p. S34). The current push for exclusive breastfeeding is grounded in the belief that the scientific research is unequivocal: breastfeeding provides significant short and long-term health benefits, and the risks of not breastfeeding can be catastrophic. However, several popular ideas about breastfeeding are not borne out by research: breastfeeding doesn’t enhance cognitive development (Jain et al., 2002); breastfeeding doesn’t lead to improved bonding; and there are data challenging the assertion that breastfeeding is

“definitely pleasurable for the mother” (Spock & Parker, 1998, p. 107). Apart from the health benefits of six weeks of breast milk, the research on breastfeeding does not lend clear support to the message provided by the dominant discourse (Jain et al., 2002). And although women might be reluctant to admit it, and guilty to feel it in the face of such pressure, the truth is more complicated. Indeed, available research suggests that breastfeeding is not necessarily enjoyable or relationship enhancing, and experiences vary, from pleasurable, to burdensome, to ambivalent ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 79

 —even experienced by the same breastfeeder at different points in time (Maushart, 1999).

There are physical struggles to breastfeeding and pumping that breastfeeding mothers must endure. Some women can’t get their babies to latch on, have trouble with their milk supply, have trauma histories that are triggered by breastfeeding, have multiple infants to feed, have babies with disabilities or have disabilities themselves that make breastfeeding challenging or impossible. Some women don’t like it. Some women may not believe that the relatively small medical benefits justify the difficulties and inconveniences of breastfeeding. Nonetheless, the medical profession has “latched on” to this issue and often pursues it with new mothers, with the zeal of missionaries.

Breastfeeding has become a political issue in recent years, fuelled by the intensive mothering ideology that mothers should be the primary feeders and care providers, and, in a sense ensuring that this is so. Breastfeeding often requires considerable time and effort from the mother, since she is the only one able to provide sustenance in this way. It is commonly recommended that babies be exposed only to milk directly consumed from the breast until feeding is thoroughly established, thought to take about six weeks or longer. This advice entrenches a traditional gender division of labor in childcare, also insuring the exhaustion of one parent, even when two are available. It supersedes the potential benefits of the inclusion of fathers and/or other care providers who would also get to bond with babies by feeding them while sharing mothers’ loads and rewards.

The issue of breastfeeding is also complicated because there are excellent reasons to promote it and support it. There are many women who might want to (or be able to) breastfeed if structural obstacles were ameliorated (e.g., longer family leave, affordable pumps, workplace support). Women might also be better equipped to make an informed choice about breastfeeding ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 80

 if there were less cultural irrationality and ambivalence about women’s breasts. It is clear whenever women are thrown off of a plane for breastfeeding “in public,” or get glares and insults in a restaurant, that ignorance in matters of both understanding and policy also stand in the way of a woman’s right to feed her baby as she chooses.

Despite the complexity of the decisions around breastfeeding, the conversation about it has been reduced to a vitriolic binary where mothers must pick one option: they either care about their infants, or they don’t. Notably, women are beating up each other on this subject; message boards and blogs on this topic are rampant, and filled with contention and contempt. For example, Hanna Rosin’s article The Case Against Breast-Feeding (2009) in The Atlantic garnered the following select commentary (there were 296 comments):

This entire article screams of whininess and a self serving attitude. Not pleasant to read at all. It's apparent to me that you've got a HUGE chip on your shoulder. Why that is I'm not quite sure. 167 people liked this.

Maybe it's because she got the cold shoulder from every mother she mentioned truncating her breastfeeding to. 55 people liked this.

Well, perhaps if she 'doesn't want to', she should not have chosen to have children in the first place. Having babies comes with major responsibilities, last time I checked. And frankly, when she chose to become a mother, she chose to put her kids before her 'self' - dads do the same thing. I'm living this as a full-time working mom and so is my husband as a full-time working dad of two little ones.

Breastfeeding, to be judgmental, is the normal way to feed a baby. Formula is inferior, period. After breastfeeding two babies and seeing them basically never get sick, and seeing my formula- fed friend's babies fall prey to ear infections, stomach bugs, skin issues, etc... I just know formula's not as good. I don't need a study to tell me that. 80 people liked this. um... no it's NOT ridiculous to formula-feed your baby... And you can't just say that your friends' babies were getting ill because of the formula... I find it ridiculous how all the breastfeeding advocates get so stroppy/defensive whenever someone presents FACTS in front of them :-)))) Hanna Rosin is SO not wrong! 52 people liked this.

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 Wait a minute, wait a minute. You're a full time working woman AND you call yourself a good mother? AND you have the balls to insult a woman for bottle feeding her infant? You're basically leaving your child with someone else all day so that you can keep your career but you still think you're a good mother because you pop out your boobs as soon as you get home. Sounds more like you're just another brainwashed dumbass feminist. Go f@ck yourself. (“http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2009/04/the-case-against- breast-feeding/7311/”)

This exchange represents a small sampling of comments, but gives a flavor of the intensity, and inanity, of the debate.

Joan Wolf (2007) chalks up the overzealous public health campaigns about breastfeeding

(and the attendant enthusiasm within mother circles) to the new ethic of “total motherhood.”

Contemporary mothers, she asserts, are expected to “optimize every dimension of children’s lives” (p. 595). In order to be a good mother, you have to be a total mother. Breastfeeding discourse is framed through a powerful ideological lens that is explicitly judgmental and constraining. Choices (like breastfeeding versus bottle feeding) are constructed as the mother’s selfish desires versus the baby’s needs. While mothers are allowed the freedom to choose how to feed their children, the decision has moral implications: the right choice is equated with a good

(and therefore selfless) mother; all the other variations are disparaged by the “experts” and policed by other mothers, eager to do what’s best and to feel validated for their own decisions.

Mothers who have researched and agonized over choices may feel a need to defend them and feel threatened by alternate views. With so many voices proclaiming how to do it best, and when the wrong choice can mean the endangerment of children, mothers can feel insecure and become more entrenched in their views. What may start out as “helpful” might lead to the other party feeling wounded or defensive. This leads to a competitive, black and white binary that encourages women to participate in their own oppression. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 82

 Whatever happened to good-enough? In this culture of intensity and idealization, what about reviving the idea of “good-enough?” D. W. Winnicott’s concepts of “the ordinary devoted mother” and “good-enough mothering” hold seeds of maternal love and subjectivity, while providing a means of thinking about motherhood that resists the current aspirations to perfection.

Like many of the current attachment theorists, Winnicott believed in the primacy of the mother- infant relationship in the development of personhood, and an integrated, coherent sense of self.

However, he was clear that the infant just needs a “good-enough mother:” one who was able to use her intuition to be responsive to the baby’s desires most of the time (Winnicott, 1953).

Winnicott believed that pregnancy, through the physical changes and intrusions demanded by the growth of the fetus, prepares mothers for the “primary maternal preoccupation” required to provide a sufficient environment for the developing infant after birth (Winnicott, 1956). The unintegrated infant needs the good-enough mother to “bring the world” to her (a breast when hungry, a blanket when cold) so that the infant can experience what Winnicott called “subjective omnipotence;” the infant needs to believe that her desire makes things happen. The good-enough mother also knows when to hang back when she isn’t needed; in this way, she creates a “holding environment. The baby develops within this physical and psychic space. Winnicott’s baby is protected to be free to move and learn through her own experience, oblivious and unaware of her mother’s protection (Mitchell & Black, 1995).

In contemporary Western society, good-enough is no longer an attractive option.

Competition and striving, insecurity and anxiety, have seemingly rendered the idea of the good-enough mother obsolete. She has been effaced in favor of a self-less, “perfect” mother, at the potential peril to both infants and mothers. For example, ideal mothering, as defined by our dominant intensive ideology, is intrusive; it does not allow for this holding environment, where ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 83

 infants can develop a “capacity to be alone,” a developmental attainment with life-long repercussions. This capacity to be alone affords self soothing and creativity. It is a capacity to be apart from others, not actively relating, and not withdrawn, not craving. It is being relaxed, as if held. Fundamentally, it is about “good enough” mothers leaving their infants to their own devices upon occasion.

This notion of a holding environment provided by a “good enough” mother does not jibe with the contemporary requirements of mothers. Experts, the media, and manufacturers offer a different vision: the “total” mother who ensures the health and development of her infant by providing her with stimulating classes, and play time with special developmentally appropriate toys. The ideal is hectic and striving. It is ultimately misguided, if not outright debilitating.

Winnicott might well have viewed the total mother as an impinging mother; such strategies are often intrusive, and don’t give space for togetherness in aloneness. To Winnicott, it is crucial that the mother is there when needed, but also to fall back with she is not needed. The good-enough mother allows the infant to become “me,” to play, expand and consolidate in her presence.

As the good-enough mother emerges from the primary maternal occupation of the new baby, and finds her own needs and personhood, she begins to miss moments of attunement. This is constructive, and allows the infant to move forward in development, coming eventually to learn that there are multiple subjectivities. When a mother is too intrusive, the child feels impingements, which can impede the development of an authentic, regulated, and separate self.

Winnicott also described the benefit for development of playing in the presence of others; unstructured play and solitude are essential for emotional health. The “total” mother (as defined by current mothering doctrine) may be an accomplice in creating a generation of kids who need ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 84

 constant stimulation and external feedback, who can’t play without a machine or a coach telling them what to do.

Is there space in this culture, also, for a “good-enough” kid, one who is free to play, get messy, screw up, and to fail? It seems that intensive parenting is impinging parenting, writ large, when the temporary maternal occupation is no longer so temporary. When children are seen as perfectible, and the goal of parenting is, in part, ensuring that children are perfected, how can children grow and develop as authentic selves? Further, how can mothers hear their own voices amid the cacophony of expert voices, and how can they act upon the instincts that Winnicott held dear, when the implication is that their knowledge and understanding is not authorized. The cultural ideal functions as its own impinging mother, not allowing mothers to have their own generative space within which to explore their mother identity, and who are able to raise a good- enough kid. These destinies are intertwined—until we can be good enough, can our kids?

Mother knows best? So why don’t mothers just ignore the advice that they don’t agree with? Why do women feel obliged to subscribe to maternal ideals of perfection and totality? As

Janna Malamud Smith (2003) explains, “whether we want to or not, we absorb the often toxic child-rearing philosophies that make up our cultural atmosphere, especially when they reach a certain density” (p. 231). It’s a bit like breathing polluted air. The media is so saturated with this ideology, that it’s hard to gain any remove, or vantage. Mothers are free to resist by declaring that they don’t believe one philosophy or another, but the very decision to disbelieve maps the terrain somewhat, keeping the area bounded. The notion of true choice collapses when behind door number one alone is the promise of your child’s future health and well-being. It’s a bit like the false choice people give young children during negotiations: “you may have one piece of candy or zero pieces of candy.” Remaining steadfast as an outlier is hard; it takes energy to be ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 85

 different and to endure disapproval, and to think entirely for oneself without reference to family and cultural values; extraneous energy is one thing that most women engaged in mothering lack.

In matters of motherhood, the pressure to conform to norms is enormous, especially when not getting it right threatens to fail your child.

It’s also hard to voice dissatisfaction and ambivalence in the face of fiercely passionate love, and cultural sentimentality. To do so seems selfish and ungrateful—two qualities women are particularly taught to abhor. The sting of criticism of one’s parenting is particularly acute, and comes often with healthy measures of self-doubt and self-recrimination. Women conform, often at their own peril, but deviation from the road marked by so-called expert opinion, is challenging, too.

This intensive ideology of mothering has a particularly toxic impact upon the older first- time mother. Their particular vulnerability raises important questions: Are the standards higher that we set for her, and she ascribes to herself? Is it possible for the older mother to be “good enough?” In this culture, new older mothers are already considered outliers, and they face stigma in the media, and scrutiny in their daily lives. Conception, pregnancy, and childbirth are all constructed as risky for the new older mother, which may make these mothers more eager to set their children up for success, leaving them more open to receive ideas of experts who sell healthy development. These women often fought long and hard to have a baby, and want to be as prepared as possible for childrearing, looking to experts for the answers, especially since they may be out of sync with their peers and less reliant on their own mothers. The functional extended family has disappeared for many mothers, but for older first-time mothers this loss is profound since family members a generation older may not be as able to help due to their age.

For many new midlife mothers, this may be their only child, and the desire to do the best ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 86

 for them is magnified. Since many of them have experienced many years in the workplace, they might take those organizational and educational skills, and apply them to their childrearing; relying on a good step-by-step manual may make particular sense to them. Further, these women are likely to be in a financial position to buy products, and seek out opportunities for enrichment for their children. In some ways, the diminished subjectivity demanded by intensive mothering may affect the new older mother more, since she is more marinated in the self. This ideology defines maternal work as a consuming identity requiring sacrifices of health, pleasure, and ambitions.

For these older mothers cultural representations of the better-than-good enough mother loom large. She has the maternal preoccupation, maybe even more thoroughly due to the time and challenges she’s endured even before conception. Because she feels so tremendously for her baby, she wants desperately to meet and exceed these expectations. At the same time, her identity has been forged and strengthened through her career, making the push-pull of work and baby all the more exquisitely excruciating.

Mothering involves sacrifices, there is no doubt, but it shouldn’t require unrelenting martyrdom or choices borne of a sense of beleaguered duty. A good mother is not only a suffering or sacrificing mother. Indeed, good mothering (and good enough mothering, too) is a cultural invention, and as such, is subject to amendments. As women (and men) unveil and examine our contemporary mothering ideology, we can look more closely at its biases and flaws, noticing that failings we thought were personal may in fact also be societal. Mothers in general, and first-time older mothers in particular, can then pick and choose among the rules, bearing in mind their knowledge of themselves and their children, allowing themselves the space to learn, grow, and gain coherence, without self-blame. The real way to put children first may be to talk ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 87

 back to imposed ideals, examining where they come from and who they ultimately serve, demanding selfhood inside motherhood, creating a culture of compassion and connection, and insisting upon laws and policy that support mothers and value their diversity while also taking good enough care of kids.

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 Essay4.Making Room for Love and Hate (And Everything In Between) 

The Clasp 

She was four, he was one, it was raining, we had colds, we had been in the apartment two weeks straight, I grabbed her to keep her from shoving him over on his face, again, and when I had her wrist in my grasp I compressed it, fiercely, for a couple of seconds, to make an impression on her, to hurt her, our beloved firstborn, I even almost savored the stinging sensation of the squeezing, the expression, into her, of my anger, "Never, never, again," the righteous chant accompanying the clasp. It happened very fast-grab, crush, crush, crush, release-and at the first extra force, she swung her head, as if checking who this was, and looked at me, and saw me-yes, this was her mom, her mom was doing this. Her dark, deeply open eyes took me in, she knew me, in the shock of the moment she learned me. This was her mother, one of the two whom she most loved, the two who loved her most, near the source of love  was this.  Sharon Olds

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 Maternal Ambivalence

In everyday parlance, “I’m feeling ambivalent” is often used to denote feeling uncertainty or confusion, or boredom or apathy, or even to express negative feelings about something or someone. The ambivalence that I am going to explore carries more traditional definition: it is the state of having conflicted feelings about a person, thing, or event. Of particular significance to this writing is the concept that people experience both loving and hating feelings for the same person. In psychological terms, all human relationships involve ambivalence, and being able to manage both kinds of feelings is indicative of mental health; denying or suppressing either pole of the spectrum means that the other person in the dyad is not fully experienced, and the relationship is narrowed and delimited. The range of emotions is vast and complex; it is not a polarity, but as seen in the Olds poem that precedes this chapter, can encompass primitive rage, terror, and sorrow, as well as passion, and tenderness. We all know from experience that an array of feelings toward another person can live inside us. We are filled with admiration and love for close friends who also irritate and anger us. Our partners drive us crazy with their habits and quirks—we hate it when they do that!—while inciting love, laughter, and joy. Our family members - siblings, parents, cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles- drive us nuts with nagging, hurt us with their judgments, cause us psychic pain, and yet we draw continue to draw from a deep wellspring of love for them. It’s true. We love them and we hate them all at once. 

Not surprisingly, conflicted feelings are also present in the mother-child relationship. In her book, The Monster Within: The Hidden Side of Motherhood (2010), Barbara Almond begins with a definition of ambivalence, and describes its relevance to motherhood, “Ambivalence is a combination of the loving and hating feelings we experience toward those who are important to us. Maternal ambivalence is a normal phenomenon. It is ubiquitous. It is not a crime or a failing” ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 90

 (p. 1). Who is more important to mothers than their children? Mother love is so potent and deep as to almost defy language.

But just as deep and electrified runs a current of negative, inchoate, and visceral maternal emotions toward babies and children. Just as we love them, we hate them too. We all had mothers who disappointed us through their imperfection; the ghosts that have little to do with our children, those are in the equation too. However, something about a mother hating her child is appalling. If we were to hear a woman say, “I hate him, I just hate him!” about her partner, it would barely register as a blip on our radar screen, we might even nod knowingly. If this same woman were to say the same statement about her baby boy, it would be shocking, and quite unusual to hear. Mothers aren’t supposed to have those feelings about their children, let alone give them voice. Why is maternal ambivalence so negated in our culture? What is the impact of this silence on mothers, and particularly how does it affect older first-time mothers? How can we make room for both love and hate in motherhood, and give mothers space to voice the full range of their feelings? What would be the impact of such unfiltered authenticity?

The bright side to maternity is one we are all familiar and comfortable with: our culture prizes and glorifies mother love as nurturing, empathic, altruistic, and all encompassing.

Maternal love is portrayed and seen as a Hallmark card: saccharine, peaceful, and domestic. This love can be a powerful, intense force that feels almost involuntary, and comes in many hues: ranging from gentle to fierce, peaceful to frantic. The image of the lioness is as uncontroversial and reassuring as that of the Madonna.

By contrast, maternal desire—and, implicitly the self—is less discussed or considered.

Motherhood provides an opportunity for growth and self-development; it’s a transformation and reworking of old wounds that many women crave. Infant care can be gratifying in its physicality, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 91

 even sensual, and a mother’s desire to care for her child can be a form of self-expression

(DeMarneffe, 2004). Motherhood can fulfill previously unmet emotional needs, allowing women to experience closeness, playfulness, and nurturing in meaningful ways, sometimes for the first time. The new older mother often personifies such desire; many women in this demographic have longed to be mothers. For these women, maternity can be healing and therapeutic after losses and challenges they have faced on the road to becoming adults and mothers. In its rewarding moments, mothering is joyful and enriching, teaching mothers how to be in a mutual and interdependent relationship unlike any other. 

But for all of its positives, there are significant challenges to mothering, sometimes pitting her needs against those of her child. In this clash of desires, the baby, dependent and powerless, requires that the mother make sacrifices. In fulfilling this role, the mother becomes the object in the story and relationship, losing her subjectivity. With suppression of personal agency and gratification, the negative side of ambivalence is revealed. This complexity is discussed by Winnicott in his paper “Hate in the Counter-Transference” (1947) which explores this conflict. He suggests that maternal ambivalence toward her child is natural and inevitable;

Winnicott speculates that a child is only able to tolerate and use his or her aggression in healthy ways when the mother can acknowledge her own hatred. He goes as far as to list reasons why an

“ordinary mother” (one who is good-enough, and devoted) hates her baby:

A. The baby is not her own (mental) conception. B. The baby is not the one of childhood play, father’s child, brother’s, etc.  C. The baby is not magically produced. D. The baby is a danger to her body in pregnancy and at birth. E. The baby is an interference with her private life, a challenge to preoccupation. F. To a greater or lesser extent a mother feels that her own mother demands a baby, so that the baby is produced to placate her mother. G. The baby hurts her nipples even by sucking, which is at first a chewing activity. H. He is ruthless, treats her as scum, an unpaid servant, a slave.

ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 92

 I. She has to love him, excretions and all, at any rate at the beginning, till he has doubts about himself. J. He tries to hurt her, periodically bites her, all in love. K. He shows disillusionment about her. L. His excited love is cupboard love, so that having got what he wants he throws her away like an orange peel. M. The baby must at first dominate, he must be protected from coincidences, life must unfold at the baby’s rate, and all this needs his mother’s continuous and detailed study. For instance, she must not be anxious when holding him, etc. N. At first he does not know at all what she does or what she sacrifices for him. Especially he cannot allow for her hate. O. He is suspicious, refuses her good food, and makes her doubt herself, but eats well with his aunt.  P. After an awful morning with him she goes out, and he smiles at a stranger, who says, “Isn’t he sweet?” Q. If she fails him at the start she knows he will pay her out forever. R. He excites her but frustrates—she mustn’t eat him or trade in sex with him. (p. 201)

Here Winnicott envisions a mother as a whole person, who aspires to do a good job at her profoundly important work, but whose job description involves some mundane, tedious, and dirty tasks. Infinite benevolence is not required. In fact, hating your child in these situations is not only perfectly normal, but necessary, for the child to learn that he or she is a separate and distinct person from the mother. Thus, normal ambivalence serves an important relational function for both mother and child, and can be an engine of growth and development. Roszika

Parker (1995) similarly views maternal ambivalence as a potentially creative process that causes mothers to think about the differences between herself and her child, engendering greater attunement. Ambivalence, therefore is not just tolerable, but important. 

However, in our current culture, ambivalence is not storied as a viable option, and is proscribed for mothers. As explored before, the Western contemporary construction of the good mother is as a perfect mother: someone who does not have needs, wants, or feelings outside of love for, and fulfillment by, her baby. In other words, a good mother is both selfless and self-less. Ideal motherhood is portrayed in the media as peaceful, domestic bliss, simple and ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 93

 effortless, and utterly fulfilling. So when a new mother bumps up against a reality where the neediness of her infant erodes her personhood, where the work is often tedious and thankless, and where she feels at sea, unsure of her new role, the feelings of irritation and anger and hate can shock and surprise and shame, and be driven underground. Babies and children are constructed as flawless, innocent, and perfectible, but only if given correct nurturance. Though absolutely typical, feelings of hatred (ranging from irritation to loathing), when measured against the cultural standard seem monstrous, an epic failure of love, causing overwhelming guilt and shame for mothers.

It’s somehow become a dirty little secret: our days aren’t perfect, our children aren’t perfect, and our care isn’t perfect. This guilt for wanting a self, for having feelings and needs, can cause mothers to throw themselves more fully into chasing an elusive ideal of perfection; the figure of the all-good mother casts a long shadow on real mother’s lives. It is noteworthy that even in Winnicott’s time there was more room for the range of affect than there is now.

Contemporary research suggests that while virtually every mother experiences stress, anger, frustration, and boredom, most believe that they have no right to feel this way, that it is unnatural and shameful (Maushart, 1999). They believe that these feelings mean that they are failures as women and mothers, and if others knew about them, they would face censure and disapproval.

Fear of this kind of reaction is silencing.

For a new older mother, negative feelings can seem particularly jarring and wrong, especially in light of her intense desire, anticipation, and fantasy. Paradoxically, these women, who have redefined motherhood in nontraditional terms, seem to experience even more performance anxiety; they have even less of a guidebook to follow (Dobrzykowski & Stern,

2003). The professionalized approach to motherhood that many new midlife mothers take, doing ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 94

 research, making plans, and forecasting outcomes, doesn’t hold up against reality (Dion, 1995;

Windridge & Berryman, 1999). These mothers may come to feel that their lives are riddled with failures, and secrets too shameful to share (Carolan, 2003; Mercer, 1986). Many of these mothers pride themselves on their competence and maturity upon entering maternity; their high self-expectations make it hard for them to reach out for social support, even when it is available

(Baldwin & Poelker, 1999; Reece & Harkless, 1996; Ruzza, 2008). It seems that they are even less inclined to expose the chinks in their maternal armor. Even if they were inclined to open themselves up, finding someone with whom to share these thoughts and feelings is even more challenging for new older mothers, since they often find themselves out of sync with their peer group, leaving them to feel more isolated and alone (Berryman and Windridge 1991a; Deitch,

1992; Dobrzykowski & Stern, 2003; Engel, 2003; Nelson, 2003; Richardson, 1982).

Resistance is Fertile

Though many voices of mothers have been silenced by intensive motherhood ideology, guilt, shame, and fear, there are women who continue to articulate their knowledge and experiences, and they are determined to share, if not in person, then in writing. Through poetry, literature, and nonfiction writings, mothers have been telling their stories and truths, warts included, for years. Recently, motherhood memoir writing has become more open to laying bare feelings of discontent (e.g., Ayelet Waldman’s Bad Mother; 2009). Further, television shows like

Modern Family and Up All Night have shown parenthood through glasses tinted by shades other than rose. Other mothers may be aware of these marginalized narratives; however they have not dismantled the ideology of the perfect mother, or the taboo of speaking about maternal ambivalence toward children. In fact, it is still rare and socially risky for mothers to admit the darker sides of mothering. ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 95

 Women who write about these negative aspects of motherhood open themselves up to disapproval that moves far beyond the literary merits of their work; critics tend to question their sincerity and the appropriateness of expressing their views. As these points of view have been voiced more frequently, they have been subject to criticism from not only traditionalists, but from more progressive and feminist writers as well, who, one might assume, would be more likely to support women frustrated with roles, and identities that feel limiting. For example, last

January, Ayelet Waldman’s memoir was subject to a review titled, “We Get It, You Hate Your

Kids” by Sadie Stein in Jezebel, a feminist online blog for women.

Perhaps the private experience of motherhood is more profound, transcendent, fraught, and ambivalent than we are still able to or dare to acknowledge. It is easy to dismiss these voices as biased or strident. Maternal ambivalence still has a forbidden quality that remains highly unacceptable in our culture (Almond, 2010).

Recently, as if to counter such complaints about motherhood, a number of books have been published extolling the virtues of motherhood: for example, Stay Home, Stay Happy: 10

Secrets to Loving At-Home Motherhood (Campos-Duff, 2009); The Happiest Mom: 10 Secrets to

Enjoying Motherhood (Francis, 2011); and Happy Housewives: I Was a Whining, Miserable,

Desperate Housewife—But I Finally Snapped Out of It You Can, Too! (Shine, 2006). Even the titles suggest a binary: as mothers we can be whining and miserable, or we can be happy. Being able to experience multiple emotions at once seems too daring and dangerous to consider.

In stark contrast, Adam Mansbach’s Go the F*ck to Sleep (2011), written from a father’s point of view in a board book style recently went viral, selling 300,000 advance copies and hitting number one on Amazon’s bestseller list. I admit, I found it to be hilarious. But, I wonder what would have happened if a mother had written that book. I conjecture that a mother who ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 96

 writes, “go the f*ck to sleep,” would be viewed as unfit by many. It’s too discordant a voice when heard against the harmony of the ideal mother. True, this sentiment is reminiscent of the

“rockabye baby” lullaby that has been sung by mothers for years, complete with its final image of the baby crashing down to the ground. However, these lyrics have become so universal that they have become part of the cultural fabric; they are no longer seen as personal. Even in comedy writing, the most provocative mothers are allowed to be is to advocate the use of alcohol as an antidote to the drudgery of motherhood: (e.g., Christie Mellor’s The Three Martini Playdate

(2004), Stephanie Wilder-Taylor’s Sippy Cups are Not for Chardonnay (2006) and Naptime is the New Happy Hour (2008), and Lisa Brown’s Baby, mix me a drink (2005).

Voices in the Blogosphere

Currently, the everyday mother (as opposed to the expert or author) has found her voice in the blogosphere, a place where the written word can speak truth that is more difficult to share face-to-face. Internet chatter about motherhood and mothering is particularly loud and lively; comments to blogs, articles, and op-eds on issues of motherhood, range from supportive to combative. This medium privileges anonymity, perhaps giving mothers greater freedom to speak their mind and engage in debate and dialogue in a space apart from their children, where they cannot really be known, and feel freer from personalized criticism and rebuke. This greater range of expression allows other mothers to see something more affective, nuanced and true.

There are many modern “edgy” mother bloggers who use irreverence and humor in their writing about motherhood (e.g., Catherine Connors’ Her Bad Mother, Rebecca Woolf’s Girl’s

Gone Child, and Kristin Chase’s Motherhood Uncensored). However, when they are truthful about ambivalence in a way that is dissonant with our good mother archetype, these authors are lambasted in the responses (mostly from other mothers). Entries admitting to spanking, admitting ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 97

 to using a housekeeper, and admitting to loving a husband more than one’s children create a firestorm of backlash.

It is clear that access to this medium has the potential to facilitate free expression, to give voice to a diversity of maternal experience, and to allow access to a broader range of mothering philosophies. The blogosphere provides a safe opportunity for mothers to corroborate that perhaps a good mother doesn’t need to be all-empathic, that she doesn’t have unlimited power in shaping her children, and that she may have, and fulfill, needs of her own without harming her children. There is power and democracy in the blogosphere; most women have access, and voices of experience. On the internet, regular women, and not just the so-called experts, are authorities able to write about their lives in a public forum.

Moving Past the Binary

Almond (2010) posits that contemporary culture exacerbates normal ambivalence for mothers. As ever-higher standards for adequate parenting are demanded, the support structures upon which mothers have historically relied are less secure. Parents are often geographically separated from relatives who once helped with childcare, and many mothers are single or divorced. The older first-time mother may have the support of a spouse or partner, but often has little social support from peers, and her parents may also need care or be less able to help with childrearing.

Mothers need to stop beating each other up for having different points of view, and falling into traps of backlash and pendulum swings. These traps are so polemic, so point and counterpoint, so a versus b. Maybe motherhood doesn’t need to be constructed in a binary of the child’s needs versus the needs of the mothers; this binary obscures the power and intersubjectivity of the relationship between mother and child. There is reciprocity in the love ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 98

 and hate, and in needs and fulfillment between mother and child that shapes each person in the dyad. In order to make room for the full spectrum of experience in others, mothers need to be willing to acknowledge these feelings in themselves. They need to cut themselves a break, stop blaming themselves for their failings, and instead find their own way of mothering that works for them, and for their children. Good-enough will have to do; it’s human. So is the entanglement of love, sorrow, joy, fear, and anger, and the gradations among them.

Making Room through Connection

Mothers, and in particular, older first-time mothers need to find ways to connect with other people in a similar boat; familiarity of shared experience would give the comfort and support needed to voice negative emotions and make nuance and diversity of experience accessible. This allows mothers to be held, appreciated, and valued. Once older first-time mothers can hear other voices that speak to their experiences of ambivalence, allowing for hate, fear, uncertainty, and anger, they would be able to see through the mythology. For the new older mother, exposure to a range of mothering could assuage guilt and worry, enabling her to move beyond what’s “right” to “what’s right for me.” Such a community would ideally be in the form of a therapeutic group where members could speak to their experiences as older new mothers; it also could provide some of the social support that the older first-time mother tends to lack, while giving participants an opportunity to connect, to safely voice their opinions, and to express the multidimensional reality of motherhood and selfhood.

Participation in online forums dedicated to first time older motherhood also appears to be helpful, although it should not replace the emotional resonance of live connection. However, the internet does allow these women to find each other even if they are geographically distant. It’s these kinds of dialogues, whether online or in person, that could make room for multiplicity, ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 99

 complexity, and diversity.

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 Final Reflections

Now That I Am Forever With Child  How the days went While you were blooming within me I remember each upon each —  The swelling changed planes of my body —  And how you first fluttered, then jumped And I thought it was my heart.  How the days wound down And the turning of winter I recall, with you growing heavy Against the wind. I thought Now her hands Are formed, and her hair Has started to curl Now her teeth are done Now she sneezes. Then the seed opened I bore you one morning just before spring —  My head rang like a fiery piston My legs were towers between which A new world was passing.  Since then I can only distinguish One thread within running hours You . . . flowing through selves Toward you.  Audre Lord  

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 It’s hard to talk about mothering in a way that rings true. It is an experience that is as individual as it is universal. After having my first child I remember looking around at all the people and thinking, they all had mothers and they are all someone’s child. Such an obvious statement intellectually, but it was revelatory in its new meaning for me. Motherhood is a study in opposites and in everything in between: it is transformative and meaningful, joyful and painful, gentle and fierce, transcendent and menial. It is also a powerful event—maybe the most powerful event—one of creation. Paradoxically, many women who mother are denied power, and don’t recognize it themselves; their work is devalued, and their identities are subsumed by an unattainable ideal. The ideology of intensive mothering that has taken hold in our culture has created a climate in which anything short of perfection is tantamount to failure. Maternal accountability is so inflated that mothers are buying products in the name of child development and safety, more out of fear than reason. Ambivalence, a natural part of any relationship, is often silenced. Mothers risk ostracism and worse giving voice to negative feelings; speaking of maternal hate is still, by and large, taboo—though writing about it is better tolerated.

Throughout the process of writing these essays, I thought often about how it would be received, about what assumptions people would make about me as a mother, whether people would think I was selfish, or not loving enough. Mother blame and censure is rampant, and it wounds where one is most vulnerable, even when one is raising the level of discourse to intellectual exploration. I am aware, too, of my own participation in both self-censure and a determination to write about issues that are hard to discuss. After all, I also participate in and am influenced by these cultural narratives, and the vision of the total mother is very seductive. While

I have been fearful of the judgments of others, I have also remained determined to try to explore issues and write these critiques in as truthful and authentic a way as I could muster.  ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 102

 Psychology has had much influence on motherhood and mothering; for over a century, psychological concepts and theories have filtered down to popular texts and discourse, shaping the way we describe and understand motherhood. Some of these texts are prescriptive to mothers; their messages are framed around the needs of the child. Even more now than ever before, and even in light of the extensive history of mother-blaming, the emphasis is on the responsibility of the mother figure to ensure that the child turns out right. For better or worse, mothers are positioned as the primary caretakers, and the focus is on their impact on the child’s development, often at the expense of a broader inquiry into the meanings of motherhood for women, how mothers feel about motherhood, and what they experience in motherhood. In a culture where patriarchy and commerce set the discourse, women’s voices are not always heard. 

It is with this in mind that I chose to consider the experiences of older first-time mothers, a growing population, whose voices have not been heard much in the research literature. This group of women also live in a paradox of power and powerlessness; their very resources and position in the mainstream of society make them surprisingly vulnerable to anxieties, and the quest for perfection demanded of educated women in our culture. They are women whose journey to motherhood has been premised on choice, a sense of agency, and hope; I wanted to consider how their cultural setting and circumstance might affect their particular maternal experience. 

Clinical Implications

It is clear that older first-time mothers have unique needs, strengths, and vulnerabilities. It behooves mental health providers to understand these women, and their contexts, in order to better help them. This cohort of women come from diverse backgrounds, and have children later for many different reasons. However, they often share some common experiences and ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 103

 perspectives. The frequently bring an eager anticipation to the table, since they have waited to have children. Many have suffered losses along the way to motherhood. Most, but not all, are highly educated and have established careers; they often prepare for motherhood through research and approach this task with intensity. They tend to be intentional and conscious about what they do as parents. A significant portion of them has little experience with children; the reality of life with a newborn does not even approximate their fantasies. Many new older mothers seem to face feelings of incompetence in this transition. They sometimes feel embarrassed to ask for help, perhaps since they have experienced success and competence in other realms, seemingly more challenging than changing a diaper. They also tend to worry more, in part due to the journey to motherhood itself: they’ve heard (and seen) that conception, pregnancy, and births are considered to be risky endeavors. Older new mothers are also more anxious than the maternal population at large, regarding their children’s health and well-being.

They are particularly vulnerable to messages of fear around safety; their long anticipation for a child, and the possibility that this one child could be their only, makes the stakes very high.

Further, most of these women have experienced losses along the way; grief, whether acknowledged or not, can add to their distress. Exacerbating these issues further is the diminished social support on which a new older mother can rely: she is out of sync from her peer group; her parents are often not in a position to help due to their age; and her maternity is judged by many as “unnatural.”

Contrary to the belief of many health and mental health care providers, older first-time mothers do not “have it all figured out,” but instead can feel particular distress in the postnatal period. Postponing motherhood can have a profound impact on identity, career, and educational aspirations, and on the extended family. It would be important to help these mothers examine ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 104

 their expectations for themselves as mothers, the realities and limitations that they face (e.g., caring for both a child and her own parents; balancing mothering and career and her own needs).

Older first time mothers seen in psychotherapy could be given space and support to consider several important questions (among many): What dilemmas is she facing in light of the intensive mothering ideology and ideal of perfection under which she is operating? Are there needs and desires that she has as a woman that can better be fulfilled outside of her maternity, or by mothering in a different way? Rethinking assumptions and considering cultural pressures would be an important part of this work. Clinicians should ask these mothers about their worries and fears, and how they safeguard against them. Providing a safe place for these mothers to explore their full spectrum of feelings, giving voice to ambivalence in mothering, would allow for further growth, self-awareness, and development. 

Of great importance in working with new older mothers is helping them find ways to bolster their social support network. A mothering group would be ideal for this demographic of women, since they share unique challenges and experiences, and since they often have a hard time finding supportive age peers. Alternatively, or in conjunction with such a group, midlife mothers can be given resources, including, for example, online communities and blogs that would resonate with their experiences, give them access to a breadth and scope of mothering philosophies, and help them find their own mothering voice. The online communities may be an especially valuable resource, giving these mothers a chance to see that others share similar stories, and face similar issues, while remaining anonymous. 

Unexplored Directions and Loose Ends

Later first-time fathers are more absent in this analysis than in the experience of many older mothers. This absence is not in any way meant to suggest that fathers are not important to ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 105

 the successful transition to later motherhood; of course their role, too, merits investigation. In fact, the only way that I have been able to do this writing and study this topic is due to the grace and support of a very hands-on father. There are many fathers who share in the responsibility for childcare, and some who take on the majority of this task. Fathers who have waited longer to take on these roles may also face unique challenges as well as joys. What does waiting mean to these men? Are their lives shaped by fatherhood differently than for younger fathers? Do they engage more?

Mothers are still the people who do the most childrearing in our society, and who have most responsibility for children. Evidence about the experience of fathering suggests that fatherhood is experienced very differently than motherhood (Phoenix, Woollett, & Lloyd, 1991).

It remains possible for men to be considered “good fathers” without being significantly involved in the day to day childrearing, and without spending as much time with their children. Men are more able to opt in or out of the work of childcare without being vilified, as long as they are helping with financial resources. It is clearly an area that deserves closer study in the future, exploring such questions as, for example: How do fathers impact the lives of new midlife mothers? What does it mean to be a new midlife father, and how does he story his experience?

How are cultural expectations and fatherhood ideologies limiting to men, and how are men deprived of the right to nurture and guide their children? 

Also largely absent from this discussion are issues related to race, class and sexual orientation. This represents a largely unexplored area in the literature of older first-time mothers, likely because these women primarily are white, middle and upper class. However, the demographics are changing, and women of every background are waiting to become mothers.

Older first-time mothers who live in poverty may have largely different experiences as they ON OLDER FIRST-TIME MOTHERS 106

 likely need to focus on more basic needs such as food, housing, and survival. It would also be fascinating to better understand the experience of women of color, for instance, who have their children later in life. What perspectives and experiences would they bring to the table, and how does the current cultural context, which privileges a white, heterosexual, middle class ideal, impact their mothering? How might the intersection among minority groups (race, socioeconomic status, and age) change their lived experience as mothers and women? How do and can these mothers voice their experiences, and resist yet another potential source of oppression? 

In addition, I focused only scant attention to the various ways that new older mothers come to motherhood. Do the different pathways have significantly divergent outcomes? I am curious, for example about the particular experiences of older mothers who adopt, or who use surrogacy. How does this affect the maternal experience of the older mother?

The children of new midlife mothers also have an important voice that was left unheard in this work. How do children of older mothers make meaning from this experience? What are the perceived benefits and drawbacks to being a child with an older mom? What are the long- term ramifications—positive and negative—for the child? 

A final important area for future study regards policy around motherhood, and particularly older motherhood. How does current policy (including maternity leave, childcare, labor laws, and healthcare) affect the older first-time mother? What are the ethical considerations about older maternity? How old is too old? Is ignoring the human body’s organic deadline, menopause, irresponsible? Who gets to decide?

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 The Good Mother

I would like to close with a re-imagination of the Good Mother. This mother can be any age or any race or any socioeconomic status. She is not restrained or limited by ideology or resources or policy. She can feel and express love and hate, fear and joy, anger and distress. She can acknowledge her vulnerabilities and strengths, and is able to use misattunements and ruptures as ways to grow and repair. This mother is not subject to censure and blame; she is on a developmental journey on which she brings her bags full of attachments that she can examine and unpack. She has people to help her navigate. She can access help when she needs it. She is not weighed down by unnecessary gear. She is able to make choices to mother and live in a way that is best for her and for her child. She knows that her well-being and agency is vital to her child. She moves through her life with wholeness and subjectivity. A good mother is good- enough, and allows her child to be good-enough: in this space of humanness and clemency, she can find satisfaction and peace. 

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