Source Washington Post
It was 1992 and I had just turned 50. Unwanted invitations to join AARP were arriving regularly in my mailbox, when what I really yearned for was another go at motherhood, which I felt as ready to take on as I had when I’d given birth to my son, Jake, 11 years earlier.
I felt this way even though my friends thought I was seriously unbalanced and even though, at the time, older women taking advantage of the newly emerging fertility technologies were being criticized for selfishly saddling their kids with decrepit mothers. I weighed the caveats carefully, but decided that I was no more crazy or selfish than any other woman who ached to hold an infant in her arms.
