As I ponder my life as a parent at the age of 46, I often find myself contrasting my experience with that of my mother at the same age. Back in her day, she was sending me off to graduate school. Now, here I am, preparing my own child for pre-K, and the differences between our journeys are profound.

To provide some context, my parents brought me into the world when they were only 19 and 21 years old, navigating the challenges of early parenthood in Latin America during the early 1980s. They each left college behind and relied heavily on my grandparents for childcare support. Despite the fact that many couples in their social circles were having children at a younger age, my mother stood out as a rarity, embarking on motherhood at such a young age amid societal expectations.

Fast forward to my own journey, I welcomed my daughter into the world at the age of 40 in 2020. During my pregnancy, doctors classified me as a geriatric mother, labeling my situation as high-risk. This classification further highlighted how times have changed; according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), in 2021, fewer than 11% of live births in the United States were to women aged 40 and above, marking me as part of a smaller demographic.

Reflecting on my parents' experiences, its clear that being young parents came with its own set of trials and tribulations. Although they hailed from relatively affluent families, the realities of life challenged their youthful optimism. They struggled to secure stable jobs without college degrees, especially during economic downturns that plagued our region. A significant turning point occurred in 1982 when the Chilean stock market crashed, resulting in the closure of numerous banks, including the institution where my father was employed. These economic strains led to soaring rent prices, forcing our family to move frequently, often seeking refuge with my grandparents.

My parents even ventured into entrepreneurship by attempting to open a cheese shop, but nature had other plans. A devastating flash flood inundated their store, destroying their dreams and leading them to close the business. Eventually, with the support of my grandfathera kind Irish-American who moved to Chile out of love for my grandmotherthey made the courageous decision to immigrate to the United States, where they sought new opportunities and a better life.

These formative years of my life, which spanned the first nine years, were shielded from the full brunt of these hardships. My parents, filled with youthful energy and enthusiasm, created a magical childhood for me, filled with weekend adventures such as camping, hiking, barbecues, and visits to friends in the countryside. The close age gap between my parents and me forged a unique bond during my teenage years, allowing for open communication and an absence of the typical rebellious phase that many adolescents experience.

While I cherish becoming a mother at my age, I sometimes reflect on my upbringing and the unspoken norms within Hispanic families surrounding pregnancy. The cultural message is clear: dont get pregnant young. This perspective guided my own choices as I dedicated nearly seven years to my education, ultimately earning a bachelor's degree, a master's degree, and nearly completing my Ph.D. It wasn't until my late 30s that I met my husband and got married. By that stage, I had established a promising career in startup marketing and called San Franciscoa notoriously expensive citymy home.

Shortly after our marriage, we faced the daunting decision to undergo in vitro fertilization (IVF) due to fertility concerns. A heartbreaking loss during my second trimester tempered our hopes, but joy returned a year later with the birth of our daughter, conceived naturally, defying earlier medical predictions. Though I was initially apprehensive about pregnancy at my age, part of me wishes I had met my husband sooner, allowing us a longer window of time to start our family. Yet, some aspects of life remain beyond our control.

Our daughter arrived just a week before the world descended into the chaos of the COVID-19 pandemic. Like many families during that uncertain time, we yearned for connection and support, prompting us to buy a home closer to my parents. Thanks to my husband's stable career, I am privileged to stay home during our daughter's formative years. This arrangement allows me to ensure she receives everything she needs and more, filling me with happiness. My husband and I have divided the responsibilities of drop-offs and pick-ups, and I relish the moments spent volunteering at her school and attending her Girl Scout meetings.

Recently, I have rekindled my passion for writing and launched a freelance PR business, enabling me to balance work with precious family time. However, I cant help but recognize the physical challenges that accompany parenting later in life. Playing with my daughter and her friends can take a toll on my body; I often find myself sore and fatigued much faster than I did in my youth.

As I enter what many elder Latinas refer to as my seora era, I acknowledge the necessity of slowing down and prioritizing restsomething younger parents may take for granted. My focus on fitness has shifted from vanity to health; my husband and I prioritize staying active and maintaining a balanced diet to ensure we can keep up with our daughters energy and enthusiasm as she grows.

To keep the spirit of adventure alive, we make it a point to camp twice a year and visit the beach and museums, ensuring our daughter is always engaged and entertained. I recognize that some younger parents exhibit a vibrancy and exuberance reminiscent of my own parents during my childhood. The thought that we may be seen as the old parents when our daughter reaches her teenage years occasionally fills me with deep sadness, especially considering that when she is my age, I may no longer be around.

Having experienced both sides of the parenting spectrum, I have witnessed the distinct benefits and struggles inherent in both younger and older parenthood. Its difficult to determine which path is superior, and perhaps that is the essence of parenting itself. There is no single blueprint for success; we navigate the complexities life presents. I cherish the memories Ive created and hold onto the hope that my daughter will one day reflect on her childhood with the same fondness.