“Having a Baby at Forty-Seven?”
“Have you lost your mind, having a child at your age? You’re forty-seven!” shouted Emily, her best friend and colleague at the factory.
“What else am I supposed to do, Em? The baby’s already on the way,” said the expectant mother with a guilty shrug.
“What do you mean, ‘what else’? You sound like some old biddy from a Victorian village. There are plenty of ways to deal with this—pills, a procedure—”
“Em, I’m not killing my child!” interrupted Natalie sharply. “Who knows if I’ll even carry to term? But if God wills it, it’ll happen.”
“Oh, suit yourself,” Emily huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re daft.”
Natalie walked home in a daze. She regretted telling Emily about the pregnancy before even mentioning it to Steven, her partner. Yet, at the same time, Emily’s harsh words only strengthened her resolve. Now she had to break the news to her mother and her grown-up son, James.
She wasn’t afraid of Steven’s reaction—he’d always wanted another child, ever since they’d gotten together.
They’d moved in together ten years ago, after Natalie divorced her first husband, James’s father. The divorce was quick—she barely had to explain herself in court because Robert showed up drunk. The judge took one look at him and ruled, “Case closed. Petitioner, you’re well rid of that drunkard.”
That same day, Robert vanished, refusing to pay child support. Natalie didn’t fight it—she was just relieved to be free of the burden she’d once invited into her life. After the divorce, she swore off men for good.
Then Steven started at the factory. He was rough around the edges but sweet in his own way, and within a month, they were dating. Soon, James met him and took to him immediately.
“Uncle Steve, you should come over again,” James said.
“I will.”
And he did—bringing gifts and treats. Before long, he was staying over, then living with them full-time.
“Natalie, let’s have a little girl,” Steven asked a year later. At thirty-eight, she thought it was too late. She shrugged it off—then secretly got an IUD.
When they finally started talking seriously about kids, Steven’s ex-wife went to a spa and left their daughter with them briefly. She called daily, and Natalie grew paranoid—what if old feelings resurfaced? She decided to give Steven a baby of their own to keep him from going back.
But after removing the IUD, nothing happened. She saw doctors, ran tests—no issues. They suggested Steven get checked, but he refused.
“I’m not going to any clinic! If it’s not happening, maybe that’s for the best. We’ve got my daughter and James—we’ll just wait for grandkids.”
No matter how she pleaded, Steven wouldn’t budge. So she let it go—until now.
“Six weeks. Pregnancy progressing normally. Heartbeat detected.”
“How will I carry at forty-seven?” Natalie asked the doctor.
The seasoned gynaecologist smiled. “You’re not the first. Women do it every day. But the choice is yours.”
She hesitated, telling Emily first—but that just steeled her resolve.
*No one’s talking me out of this now! I’m having this baby!* she thought as she walked home. She called Steven to warn him they needed to talk.
“What’s happened?” he asked the moment she walked in.
“Not just me. Us. We’re going to be parents.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“Six weeks. I had the scan today.”
“Nat… we’re nearly fifty! How will we manage?”
“Steven! We’ll manage! Couldn’t you at least act happy?”
“I *am* happy!” he backtracked. “Just panicked a bit. But you’re right—we’ll make it work. I’ve been meaning to set up a workshop in the shed. Now I’ve got extra reason to start that side gig.”
“Good. We’ll need the money.”
With Steven on board, Natalie told her mother the next day. Since Mum had had her late in life, she thought she’d understand—but no.
“Do you know the risks at your age? You could have a disabled child. Don’t be foolish—end it while you can.”
“Mum, really? You wouldn’t want another grandchild?”
“At my age? I’ll need a nurse myself soon! I’m too old for this.”
“You’re in great shape! People half your age should be so lively.”
“Don’t be daft. Count me out—I raised James for you. This one’s on you.”
“I’ve got Steven!”
“So you say. But he hasn’t married you, has he? Just like Robert—and look how that turned out.”
“That’s not fair! Robert was a drunk who stole from me. Steven’s supported me for ten years!”
“Then why no ring? You told him about the baby—he didn’t bolt, at least. Small mercies.”
“Fine. I’ll go check if he’s packing his bags,” Natalie snapped.
“Go on, then. Chasing after him at your age—young mum indeed!”
The conversation left her queasy. By the time she got home, she was dizzy and cramping. Steven was at work, so she called an ambulance.
“Your blood pressure’s high. You should go to hospital,” the paramedic said.
The next day, the doctor warned, “If you want to keep this baby, you’ll likely be on bed rest until delivery.”
“If I must, I must,” Natalie said firmly.
Steven promised he’d handle everything—even checking on her mum.
“Thanks, love,” she said gratefully. “She’s scared she’ll be forgotten once the baby comes.”
“So scared she nearly gave you a heart attack.”
“Don’t hold it against her. She’s set in her ways.”
“I’m used to her by now. She’s a character.”
“She’s not your mother-in-law. Not technically.”
“Easily fixed. After the baby. We can’t exactly file paperwork now—you’re stuck in bed.”
“Was that a proposal?”
“Suppose it was.”
“Then yes!”
“Good. I already told James we’re getting married. Oh, and about the baby—he’s chuffed. Says it’s a boy.”
“That little sneak! No wonder he didn’t ask why I was hospitalised. But I’m glad—I was so worried.”
“Don’t fret. I’ve got it covered. Just take care of yourself.”
For months, Natalie was confined to the hospital. Steven visited daily; James called (he was finishing university), but the silence from her mother and Emily gnawed at her—even the news of the baby’s perfect health couldn’t shake the loneliness.
At thirty-six weeks, doctors scheduled a C-section. Steven wasn’t answering his phone. James couldn’t reach him either. In desperation, Natalie called Emily.
“Em, I can’t get hold of Steven. The baby’s coming—”
“Nat, don’t worry. I’ll find him.”
The line went dead. Hours passed. *She must have failed—or didn’t even try,* Natalie thought bitterly, redialling Steven again and again.
As they wheeled her to surgery, she spotted Emily and Steven rushing down the corridor.
“Nat! His phone died! I drove him here. We’ll be right outside!”
Soon, the midwife announced, “Congratulations—it’s a boy!”
“What? The scan said girl!”
“Next time,” the midwife chuckled.
“Oh no—this is it! A boy’s fine.”
Natalie recovered quickly and was discharged early. Emily wasn’t there—Steven collected her alone. But at home, balloons filled the rooms, the nursery was freshly painted, and the table was set for a feast.
“Steven! Did you do all this?”
“Not a chance. Emily and her husband helped. They’re bringing your mum.”
Moments later, her mother’s voice rang out: “Where’s my gorgeous grandson?”
Over dinner, Emily confessed she’d been racked with guilt. “I thought our fight made you ill! I was too ashamed to call. But I had to make it right—so I redid the nursery.”
Steven’s phone had died just before the C-section. Emily finally tracked him down at his workshop.
“When I said you were having the baby, he nearly fainted. But now that everything’s okay, we went all out. Even roped my husband in. Welcome home, little prince.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad we’ve made up. This little one brought us back together.”
“Then name him after that. Call him Peace—like his dad, but special,” Mum suggested.
“Peace it is. Em, will you be his godmother?”
“I was afraid you’d never ask!”
Just then, Peace smiled in his sleep—as
