Our Story… And Possibly Yours

Welcome to the world of becoming a new parent a little later in life than the average bear. Very recently I was bragging to friends about how much easier twins are turning out to be than I anticipated. They were born roughly 1600 miles away from home and I had psyched myself up for the sleepless nights and horrific 3 day car ride post birth. As it turned out, I’m not a great sleeper to begin with so the nights weren’t nearly as bad as I expected, and the babies hardly made a peep on the car ride home. Sure we’ve had a rough night or two since then, and some duo crying during the day, but all in all I’ve been pretty smug about their sweetness. A year ago, friends and acquaintances alike were more than generous in their assessment of how challenging things were about to get when we told them how excited we were to have found a surrogate who was willing to carry twins. There were a lot of “Oh wow, I cannot imagine having more kids at this age.”, and “Are you sure your’e up for this?” I got more shock and amazement than my husband got, and understandably so. He has wanted to be a dad his entire adult life, and I have been a mom for most of mine. We became friends through work ten years ago, and one of the first things we talked about was kids. I am undeservedly fortunate enough to have a daughter and son from my previous marriage, and he was trying to reconcile the idea he was never going to be a parent. He is a kind, unfailingly generous, hilarious, thoughtful, insightful guy, and I hoped he could find some peace and fulfillment in the immeasurable good he does in the world for others. That being said, I secretly felt his emptiness. The minute I became a mom I realized there would be nothing I could ever do that would matter as much as raising my babies. Years went by, and one day he decided come hell or high water, he was going to become a dad. He is and was my best friend, my person, and I was sure would be amongst the best dads in the world. That being said, I was willing to cheerlead from the sidelines if he wanted to explore the idea of finding a more “age suitable” partner. He didn’t. I thought long and hard about the logistics of becoming a mom again at this time in my life. I’d already been on this wild ride and my daughter and son were launched. We’d survived all the stages… late night crying babies and crying mama, teetering toddlers, exuberant children, heartwarming and heartbreaking adolescents, terrifying teens, and finally into young, amazing, delightful adults. Through it all I’ve kept up my praying/hoping/bribing/imploring the universe to keep them safe, healthy and happy. Did I really want to start again, having insider information that no new parent of any age can possibly fathom? The parental rose colored glasses I wore in my twenties have been fogged over by reality. My biggest concern, though, was whether or not it was fair to a child or children to have parents who are roughly the same age as their friend’s grandparents. When my first two were growing up I worried a great deal about something happening to me and them not having one of the two people who would and could love them the way they deserved to be loved. That fear has manifested itself into a commitment for both of us to be the best version of ourselves we can be. We are dedicated to being physically, emotionally, mentally and financially as healthy as possible. We are dedicated to surrounding our boys with the most doting, adoring, committed, kind, loving village possible. They have two grown siblings, many aunts and uncles, and a plethora of friends and family who do and will love them. We are dedicated to raising them with an abundance of time and attention, and we hope to make them physically ill with the amount of love, kindness and dedication between us. We are dedicated to providing them with a very safe, accepting, calm, kind, humorous  environment while teaching them the importance of gratitude for the blessings bestowed upon them. Finally, we are dedicated to appreciating all that comes with this unpredictable, tipsy-turvy, crazy, long awaited, miraculous journey of becoming new parents in our 50s. Wish us luck. 

-Aimee & Mark