Boris Johnson’s baby and I will have something in common – the loneliness of growing up with older parents

It isn't my place to judge any person who has a child regardless of age. But being the only one of your peers to deal with age-related health complications can be an incredibly isolating experience

As a Hull-born, working-class northerner, this is a sentence I never thought I'd type: I have something in common with Boris Johnson and his kin.

When I heard news of the Boris Baby via Twitter, I was pleased for the couple. Yet I couldn't help but draw parallels between my own life and the possibilities awaiting the mini minister.

While I was far from the child of a government leader, I was the offspring of an older father – my dad was in his 50s when I was born and my mum approaching her half-century milestone – far older than the 28.9 year age for the average UK first-time mother.

Although not an unusual age to become parents in 2020, and half a decade younger than 55-year-old Johnson, my birth was an oddity in 1982. My gaggle of aunts tell me there "was talk". I'm not sure what this means, and I'm still afraid to ask.

Joking aside, while I wish any expectant parents healthy children, my experience of being born to mid-lifers was decidedly mixed.

Despite my parents insisting I, like my three sisters, was the result of a planned pregnancy, my mum didn't realise she was pregnant for six months and my aunt joked I was a "change baby" – not a suggestion 31-year-old Carrie Symonds is likely to face.

Nothing struck me as odd until I reached six or seven. I was playing with my neighbour who insisted my dad would die before hers – hers was in his 30s and mine nearing 60. Her words were prophetic.

When I was seven, my family took a holiday to Disney in Florida where my father suffered a serious heart attack. My memories are hazy, but I have a dim recollection of a paramedic telling my mother his heart had stopped.

These anecdotes set me apart from other seven-years-olds. The rumour spread that my dad had collapsed on Mickey Mouse. It sounds ridiculous now, but was devastating then.

Yet he did survive and my adolescence ran smoothly – though money was tight as my father's ill health forced him to retire early.

While ill health can strike at any age, the likelihood increases with age. When I was born in the early eighties, the average male life expectancy was, according to the ONS, 73.6. So, the child of a 50-year-old man could expect to lose her dad at 23.

That isn't to say there weren't advantages to having older parents. As interfering neighbours loved to say, "your parents made the mistakes on your sisters", and my mum and dad were certainly more relaxed during my childhood than they had been in my sisters' youth.

But, as I grew older, a chasm developed in my relationship with my sisters – the eldest was 22 years my senior. My siblings shared childhood memories I wasn't part of and were at different stages in their lives.

The day I was born, my then 22-year-old sister was on her honeymoon and, three months later, announced her own pregnancy, which meant my niece was just 11 months younger than me.

Outsiders joked I was lucky to have three extra mothers, but the reality was different. My mum jokingly referred to me as her "extra special", which I now know one of my sisters bitterly resented.

Ten years later, my father suffered another massive heart attack and died. Far worse things happen to young people every day, but the loss again set me apart. I'd always tried to evaporate into the background, but suddenly I was the subject of unwanted attention – the girl with the dead dad.

My friends had problems, but few had dealt with age-related issues of parental old age. I felt isolated.

By the time I hit my early 30s, I was enjoying a (relatively) successful career as a financial journalist in London.

My career hit a hurdle when my always healthy mother was diagnosed with age-related epilepsy in her 80s. Apparently, this isn't unusual and a quarter of new epilepsy cases diagnoses are in those over 65.

I returned to my hometown of Hull to help my sisters care for her and work as a freelance journalist. The drop in salary was enormous. All of a sudden, I spent evenings in A&E waiting rooms after my mum had had four seizures.

If I were to give Johnson one piece of advice, so many topics spring to mind – Priti Patel, the NHS, the demonisation of Greta Thunberg, but his approach to family planning is none of my business.

As my 40th looms, the question of children has arisen. It isn't my place to judge any person who has a child regardless of age, gender, race or sexual orientation. And a child with two loving parents is luckier than many.

But I'm not sure if 'd be willing to become an older mother. Yes: the children may benefit from having slightly wealthier and more emotionally well-rounded parents, but is the potential price worth it? I wish I knew.