On ageing: a privilege and a paradox

I turned 34 this week. The age my mum was when I was born, and suddenly age mattered! I never thought much about getting older before becoming a mother. It was something abstract, something that happened in the distance - inevitability but not an immediate concern. Then came motherhood, and the question mark of fertility. Ageing became present. Not just in my body, which is slower to recover from sleepless nights and quicker to stiffen after carrying a small, wriggling girl all day, but in my awareness of time itself.

There is a paradox to it. I feel an immense gratitude for growing older. To age is to be here, to witness, to stay. I now see ageing not as a slow loss but as an ongoing presence, one that allows me to see my daughter wake up each morning, to hear her learn words and sounds, to look after her as she explores the world. It is an extraordinary thing, to still be here, and to be so needed.

And yet, alongside this privilege is the flip side of seeing her grow bigger. Every milestone is a little goodbye to the version of her that existed just before. The tiny newborn scrunch, the weight of her in my arms before she preferred to walk. Each change is amazing, but it does also feel like a loss. No one warns you about how often you will miss things!

Psychology theory teaches us that humans struggle with impermanence. We crave continuity, yet life is an endless series of changes. Perhaps this is why parenthood, and ageing itself, feel so intense - it is a constant confrontation with the passing of time. We can’t keep our children small any more than we can keep ourselves unchanged. But maybe the goal is not to resist this movement but to stand within it, and allow gratitude to flow.

The trick, perhaps, is to love each version of our children - and ourselves - as deeply as we can, knowing that they will shift and change. Bringing our attention to the present. If I can’t manage that a little more during my 34th year, I think I’ll be doing ok!