Turning 50: What My Forties Taught Me About Motherhood, Marriage, and Listening to My Body

I turned 50 recently. Half a century. It still feels a little wild to say out loud. I thought I’d want a big bash with balloons and glitter and the whole shebang, but life rarely follows the script we imagine for it. Instead, I celebrated in quieter, more intimate ways—my best friend flew in and stayed for six glorious weeks, my husband whisked me away to Greece, and I gave myself permission to mark the occasion gently, tenderly, intentionally.

What surprised me most wasn’t the birthday itself. It was what the journey to 50 revealed—especially everything my forties quietly sculpted, softened, and strengthened in me. My forties were transformative: I became a mother. I moved to a new country. I launched a podcast. I rebuilt parts of myself I didn’t even know were cracked. And now, standing at this new decade’s doorway, I feel… awake. Mature in the best way. Rooted.

I wanted to share some of the things I’ve learned—especially for the women walking beside me, ahead of me, or right behind me on this winding road.

1. Learning to Love My Body—Every Version of It

Let’s just name it: perimenopause is no joke. And going through it while raising a young child? Whew. There should be badges for this.

My body has changed so much since my late thirties—pregnancy at 42, postpartum recovery, hormonal chaos, the whole buffet. I did what many of us do: I went searching for answers. And the internet had plenty to say.

Eat this. Don’t eat that. Lift heavy. No, do yoga. More protein. Less stress. No gluten. Maybe dairy. Absolutely no sugar.

It became a full-time job, with my body as the confused, overworked employee. And at some point, my body essentially said, “Enough. I’m done.”

Looking back, I realize I wasn’t listening—I was managing, controlling, fixing. The real transformation happened only when I got quiet enough to hear what my body was trying to tell me.

Now I speak to my body differently. I thank her. I treat her kindly. When she whispers “no,” I don’t bulldoze over it anymore. And you know what? She’s rewarding me—slowly—with strength, steadiness, softness, and even a little weight loss. But the win isn’t the smaller jeans. It’s the gentler voice in my head.

My body has carried me to 50. She’s given me a child. She’s held every joy and heartbreak.

How dare I speak to her like an enemy when she’s been my greatest companion?

2. Staying in the Moment (and Off My Phone)

Living in a small mountain town in France has re-taught me how to be present. People here don’t reach for their phones the moment something beautiful happens. When the sky blushes pink at sunset, they don’t rush to record it—they simply… watch. Together.

It’s contagious.

I’ve found myself savoring moments instead of documenting them. Letting them imprint on me rather than my camera roll.

The truth is: You cannot be fully present with your phone face-up beside you. You cannot soak in your child’s laugh while glancing at notifications. You cannot fully feel life if you're half-checking out of it.

Start small. Thirty minutes without your phone. An hour. A meal.

Watch how much more vividly your memories form when you live them instead of record them.

These are the mental photographs we take with us.

3. Nurturing the Partnership That Started It All

Before the kids, the laundry, the school emails, the meal planning, the logistics… there were two people in love who chose each other.

It’s so easy to forget that.

Motherhood often puts us in “manager mode”—organizing everything, everyone, every moment. And yes, sometimes our partners get on our nerves (let’s normalize saying that). But I try to remember: this family started with him. With us.

We’re not just co-parents—we’re partners, lovers, friends.

Even with perimenopause doing gymnastics with my hormones and dryness and energy levels, intimacy still matters. Connection still matters. Making space for each other still matters.

It doesn’t have to be fancy. Sometimes it’s just laughing together on a day when everything goes wrong—including the baby’s explosive diaper right as you’re about to go on your first post-baby date. (Been there. Survived it. Laughed through it.)

Those moments glue you together.

4. Laughter Will Save You

Motherhood doesn’t have to be the heavy, stressful job so many women warned me about before I had children. I refused to believe that exhaustion was the default setting for motherhood.

And honestly? Motherhood is fun. Messy, unpredictable, chaotic—but fun.

Kids bring so much lightness if we’re willing to let it in. If we loosen our grip. If we stop taking every task so seriously.

I want my son to grow up thinking motherhood looked joyful on me—not burdensome. I want him to remember a mom who laughed, who played, who found humor in the hardest moments. A mom who took breaks, who breathed, who let herself be human.

That’s the legacy I’m trying to build.

Stepping Into 50 With Gratitude

If my forties taught me anything, it’s this:

Be gentler with your body. Be present for your life. Love your partner intentionally. Find humor in the chaos.

Fifty feels less like an age and more like a vantage point—a place high enough to see where I’ve been and where I still want to go. My body hasn’t failed me. My spirit hasn’t dimmed. My joy is deeper now, slower, richer. And if you want to hear the full conversation — every story, every laugh, every truth I didn’t type here — you can listen to the full podcast episode right here. 

Fifty is not an ending. It’s a deepening.A softening.A strengthening.A homecoming.

If you’re already 50, message me — I want to hear your wisdom.If you’re on the way, I hope something here makes the path a little lighter.

Wherever you are, take a breath and whisper to yourself:Thank you, body. Thank you, life. Thank you for letting me be here.