- At age 39, when Monica’s marriage broke down without having conceived a child, she had to start again to achiever her dream of having a family.
- A year later, she met Peter, 43. The couple were thrilled to discover they were expecting and started planning their wedding soon afterwards.
- Sadly, at around ten weeks, Monica lost the baby and although their marriage went ahead, they also wanted to continue trying for a family.
- Age wasn’t on Monica’s side, suffering more devastating miscarriages and when they turned to IVF, they wondered it was worth the stress, pain and cost.
- By 53, the only place that would take Monica on as a patient was a clinic in Spain. The couple went ahead with it and miraculously, it worked.
- As her belly grew, Monica received many judgemental looks from strangers for becoming a mum so late in life.
- Now, with her son Lewis by her side, Monica Kranner, 57, shares how she fought for her family and what it’s like to be an older mum…
As the woman with a pregnant belly walked past me, I felt my stomach lurch.
The clock is ticking, Monica, I thought.
She caught me looking so I smiled and quickly looked away again.
Aged 39 in 2008, I found myself single again after my first marriage ended.
I’d always wanted children.
For the five years of our marriage, I wasn’t on the pill, but I never fell pregnant.
Still, I had a dream of having a big family around the dinner table.
A year later, I met Peter, 43, and we started dating.
He had two children from a previous relationship.
“I want children of my own,” I told him.
“I get that,” he said.
We’d been dating for just over a year when I missed a period.
I rushed to buy a pregnancy test and couldn’t believe it when it was positive.
“I’m pregnant!” I told Peter, thrilled.
“Fantastic!” he cried. “Shall we get married then? Make it official?”
“I’d love that,” I grinned.
We started planning our wedding as I suffered through the early weeks of morning sickness.
But then, at 10 weeks, I lost the baby.
I was devastated.
“We’ll keep trying,” Peter soothed as I grieved this enormous loss.
The wedding went ahead and we kept trying to conceive.
As a nutritionist, I carefully monitored what Peter and I ate to give us the best chance.
We cut out things like alcohol, caffeine and processed foods.
In 2013, we tried artificial insemination.
It worked, but I miscarried, and then again in 2014.
We moved on to full IVF but because I was over 40 we had to pay for it privately.
It was tough on our relationship.
“Maybe it’s time to let it go,” a friend urged.
“I can’t,” I told her.
Thankfully, Peter agreed with me.
I’d have understood if he’d said he’d rather spend his money on a holiday, but he never did.
As the years rolled by, it got harder to find clinics who would take us on.
Still, a voice deep inside me urged me to keep on trying.
By the time I was 53, the only place I could find that legally still allowed IVF at my age was in Spain, so I booked a flight.
By now, I’d suffered seven miscarriages, each one as devastating as the first.
“Right, here we go,” I said, as a fertilised embryo was inserted into my womb.
This time, it was different.
We got through those dreaded early weeks without a bleed.
At 12 weeks, I nervously went to my first ultrasound scan on my own.
Peter was away for work.
When the sonographer placed the wand on my tummy and I heard the baby’s galloping heartbeat, I burst into tears.
“It sounds like a racing car,” I laughed. “If it’s a boy, maybe he should be called Lewis after Lewis Hamilton.”
I couldn’t believe it was really happening, even when my tummy started swelling.
One day, I went to the dentist for a regular check-up.
Ticking the box saying I was pregnant, I watched as the receptionist pulled a judgemental frown.
But I was too excited to be fazed by outside opinions.
We only started telling friends our news at six months as I was too scared of jinxing it.
In fact, I hadn’t even told my dad, Lazlo, 83.
He lived in Austria and my mum had passed in 2005.
Three weeks before my scheduled C-section, Peter, 57, told me I had to tell Dad.
“Dad,” I said, over the phone. “You’re about to get another grandchild.”
There was silence and then I heard the muffled sounds of his weeping.
He was delighted for me.
Six days before my scheduled C-section, my waters broke at 3am.
“I think it’s time,” I said to Peter, waking him.
He jumped up and started panicking.
“We need to get to the hospital,” he cried.
I was the one keeping him calm.
Together, we went to emergency and Lewis was born on July 1, 2023, perfectly healthy.
It still didn’t feel real, even when he was placed on my chest and I could feel the warmth of him.
“At long last,” I cried, overwhelmed with love.
I was finally a mum at 54.
Peter and I took him home and revelled in our joy.
But when we started taking Lewis on outings, the disapproving looks from strangers began.
Acquaintances and colleagues accused me of being selfish, not thinking about my child because we were older parents.
It was frustrating that people could be so insensitive.
If only they knew what we’d been through, I’d think.
In December 2023, Peter and I went out for a meal to celebrate our first Christmas together as a little family.
“It must be nice for you to have Christmas with your grandson,” a woman at the restaurant remarked.
“He’s our son,” Peter said crossly.
The woman blushed and dashed off, but her unasked opinion stung.
I started telling people it took us 14 years and seven miscarriages before we had our miracle bub.
That always puts them back in their box, but it’s tiring to have to constantly explain ourselves.
Last year, I started experiencing menopause symptoms, hot flushes and brain fog, all while wrangling a two-year-old.
At our age, the grandparents are too old to help.
But that was our choice.
Our organic diet is keeping Peter and I energetic.
Lewis has just turned three and is a gorgeous, strong-minded little boy – my absolute pride and joy.
I’m worried about his friends judging him for having older parents when he starts school, but we will deal with it when the time comes.
Motherhood may have come a bit later than planned for me, but it’s been well worth the wait.
It’s love on a different level, something I’ve never experienced before.
We know we are amazing parents to our son and that’s what matters.
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