I’d given birth at 21 and thought my baby days were behind me. But I was about to get some incredible news. By Renée Hoenderkamp, 56
The pub was heaving with revellers as I clinked glasses with my boyfriend.
I was two weeks overdue with my first child, and my back had been aching all day. But I loved New Year’s Eve, and was determined not to miss out on the celebrations.
‘When are you having the baby?’ someone asked, clocking my enormous bump.
‘Oh, tonight definitely,’ I said, breezily.
My boyfriend Michael and I were very young — I was 21 and he was 24 — and the baby hadn’t been planned.
I was so busy with work and socialising, that being a mum just wasn’t my focus.
But now it was happening, and less than two hours after midnight, I was hurrying from the pub to the hospital, where I had a baby boy, Calum.
Not long after, Michael and I split up. But we stayed friends and he was a great dad.
As a single mum with a mortgage, I found myself going back to work when Calum was just 28 days old.
Handing my tiny baby over to a childminder wasn’t easy, but I told myself it was what I had to do.
And with a fast-paced job, I secretly found babies a little boring.
Driven to climb the ladder, I put in 12-hour days, relying on childminders and au pairs.
My hard work paid off, because I became the publishing director of a national magazine. But I paid a high price, barely seeing Calum in the week.
It made me very sad, but I told myself: You’re providing for him.
The truth was though, that Calum had everything he needed financially. But he didn’t have me.
He wasn’t an easy child, but I knew that was because I’d been working like a lunatic, and he’d missed out on my input.
'You can take me for a drink'
Over the years, I had other long-term relationships. But with a high-flying job, having more children didn’t cross my mind.
Then, when Calum was eight, I decided to change career and study medicine to fulfil a lifelong dream of beinga doctor.
It was tough as I was studying alongside working, while also being treated for thyroid cancer.
But after my degree, I found work in a hospital and spotted a familiar face.
It was one of my tutors, a spinal surgeon called Colin.
‘It’s you!’ he said, giving me a broad smile.
I’d just come out of a relationship and, noticing I was looking sad, Colin asked if there was anything he could do.
‘You can take me for a drink if you like,’ I said.
And that was it! After our drink, we became a couple.
I was 43 and Colin was 50. He was divorced with five children, so we all fitted together with Calum as one big happy family in our home in north west London.
Over the years, I sometimes thought I would love to have a girl — a mini-me.
I was fit and healthy and I knew women who’d had babies in their late 40s, so the door was never truly closed.
Then one day, when I was 50, I noticed my boobs were sore.
It was a feeling I’d experience before and I just knew!
I took a pregnancy test when I got to work at the GP surgery, but it was negative.
My gut told me to take another one, however, and when it turned positive, my heart raced.
I felt a huge sense of shock and disbelief, but I was also buzzing with excitement.
When I told Colin, both of us were worried in case something went wrong. But at my six-week scan, the sonographer pointed to something I recognised as a tiny but strong heartbeat.
Because I was hyper-aware of the potential complications that came with being an older mum, I paid £1000 to have my pregnancy hormones tested every three weeks.
Colin thought I was mad, but it gave me peace of mind.
Then at 10 weeks, I went for lunch at Wagamama with my mum, and Calum and his partner Phoebe.
I knew I had to tell my son I was pregnant, but I was nervous about his reaction.
He’d got used to being an only child for 30 years, after all.
When I told him, he looked startled and said: ‘Aren’t you getting on a bit?’
I’d been waiting for a thunderbolt, but in the end, he just shrugged his shoulders and said it didn’t really affect him.
Two months later, he brought me a gorgeous bouquet for Mother’s Day and then broke some news of his own.
‘Phoebe’s pregnant,’ he said.
I was so happy for them, and with Phoebe just three months behind me, we went through some of it together.
Thankfully, my pregnancy couldn’t have been easier.
I was so much fitter than I’d been when I’d had Calum.
Back then, I’d put on three stone, but this time round, I kept up my thrice-weekly runs and put on just one-and-a-half stone with my mainly plant- and fish-based diet.
I’d initially been referredto the high-risk unit, but the doctor ended up discharging me the same day.
‘You’re fitter than most 30 year olds!’ he said.
When I found out we were having a girl, I was thrilled.
While most of my friends and family knew, I kept my pregnancy a secret from work until I was 24 weeks.
One of my bosses was critical of older women having babies, and when I did eventually tell her, she asked if I’d considered a termination.
But I discovered that pregnancy at any age could be easy or hard — age was just one factor.
Colin recommended I had a Caesarean. I wasn’t keen, as I’d had Calum naturally and easily in two hours.
‘But you were 21 then, and now you’re 51,’ he said. ‘I’ve read about it and the risks of stillbirth go up.’
It took me by surprise how adamant he was.
When I spoke to a consultant, he agreed with Colin. And so, at 37 weeks and six days, I was wheeled into the operating theatre.
Colin took my hand, and all of a sudden, I saw a shock of red hair and heard a cry.
My beautiful little girl weighed six pounds.
As she was wrapped up and handed to me, it was a magical moment as I stared into her blue eyes.
‘Hello, Alice,’ I said, kissing her.
From the moment Colin held Alice, he fell in love.
'Aren't you getting on a bit?'
Within 18 hours of giving birth, I was back home. And just two days later, I was out shopping and in my size-eight jeans.
Alice was a very contented baby, and I was always around, enthralled by every new thing she did.
But it made me conscious of how much I’d missed out on when Calum was young.
And I realised something else. I’d found the whole process much easier than I’d done at 21.
As a doctor, I knew when to worry and when to stay calm. I had more financial security and my career drive had vanished.
Mum had worked when Calum was young. But now, at 75, she was free, still active, and happy to help.
Two months after Alice arrived, Phoebe gave birth to my granddaughter Isabella, and they get on brilliantly.
Being a mum in my 50s isn’t all plain sailing, and the menopause kicked in after I gave birth and stopped breastfeeding.
However, HRT has helped with that.
Now Alice is five and thriving. She loves school and is a shining example of how children with older and more involved parents can flourish.
My advice to women at my stage of life would be to go for it — but do it from a place of fitness.
Having a baby at 51 is the best thing I ever did.