Mother Welcomed Her First Child at 66 and Has Lived with Public Rejection since Then

The memories of the day you become a parent will be ones you hold dear forever. A unique child who depends on you has just entered the world. You must provide them with the finest environment and encouragement while they work to achieve their goals.Adriana Iliescu gave birth to her first child in 2005, and because she was 66 at the time, her story received extensive media coverage.Adriana was overjoyed when her daughter Eliza was born.The elderly mother has been out of the public eye for 17 years, but some recently released, well publicized images of her daughter have brought her back.There are those days that can completely alter someone’s life. Undoubtedly, every parent who has ever experienced parenthood will concur that it is impossible to adequately express the moment you greet your child.When you first catch that cute child looking up at you, it’s the sweetest sensation in the world.Some people are born into history books and become immortal.When Eliza Iliescu was born in Romania in 2005, she had that exact experience. Because of the girl, the girl’s mother made history.

At 66 years old, Adriana Iliescu became the oldest mother ever. Eliza’s birth garnered media attention for obvious reasons, earning Adriana a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records.In 2010, Adriana opened up about motherhood and shared her experiences after receiving severe criticism after giving birth. The people thought she was selfish and unduly old.“The mirror is cruel to women, but if you judge me by my vitality, I’d say I’m a young lady. When I’m a little more exhausted, I feel like I’m 37, yet I just feel like I’m 27. Women more than half my age are healthier than I am.“People think it’s humorous to refer to me as ‘grandma,’ but Eliza wasn’t there to make me appear younger. I don’t ever feel my age.Adriana, who was 71 at the time, also said during her conversation with the British tabloid that she planned to have another child.She said, “Medically, it’s doable. It could be done, since I understand experiments with a 70-year-old woman are currently taking place in England. I am in good health and believe that having another child in the future is conceivable, but I’m not in a rush right now.Adriana and Eliza have a similar bond to most mothers and daughters over time. Eliza is a young child who is tremendously joyful, humorous, and intelligent.Although a lot of people have an opinion about Adriana’s age, the mother claims that Adriana is a great mother and takes good care of Eliza.“I don’t consume alcohol or smoke. Eliza will be 20 years old when I die if I survive as long as my parents did. I still believe I have a lot to offer her.Adriana did not plan on getting pregnant at such a late age. When Adriana Iliescu was a young newlywed, she was forced to have an abortion due to health issues. She was 24 when her husband abandoned her.Adriana subsequently focused on other facets of her life, such as her job as a professor at a Romanian university.As I was working, “I couldn’t even think about a child.”But I wasn’t ready to have children until I finished my doctorate at age 37. However, IVF did not exist back then.Adriana was 57 years old when in-vitro fertilization became an option in Romania. Adriana’s first pregnancy in 2000 resulted in miscarriage despite her attending counseling.

Many people turned their backs on her because she wanted to have children. They thought Adriana was acting immorally, but she persisted in her desire to have children and never gave up.

Eliza was eventually born after receiving treatment from Dr. Bogdan Marinescu in Bucharest. Adriana had really been expecting triplets, but only Eliza survived after the other two died in the womb. Unfortunately, because of her premature delivery, she had to spend a lot of time in the NICU.
Adriana, who was deeply religious, wanted to baptize her daughter immediately after she had grown into a strong young child. Sadly, some religious organizations opposed Adriana having a kid at such a late age. At Eliza’s baptism, Adriana encountered weird looks from the nuns, one of them even referred to her as “the creation of dark energy.”
Adriana claims that Eliza is a gift from God. Today’s Adriana Iliescu

Adriana gave birth to her first child in 2022, which has been 17 years ago. Adriana is usually mistaken for Eliza’s grandmother, but they are currently having a great time together.
But the seasoned mother is still in great physical and mental shape. She is a very loving person, and that is what it takes to nurture a child.

Adriana is 83 years old and still writes. She claims to be in good health and has published more than 25 children’s novels. She appears to be a fantastic mother, but she still holds down a part-time professorship in Bucharest.
Adriana has also ensured that Eliza’s future is in capable hands.

When Adriana chose to use IVF, she made an agreement with the physician. He will be the girl’s godfather and legal guardian in the event that Adriana passes away.
Eliza, who is 17 years old, wants to study and attend college, but Adriana initially prefers to keep her family’s private affairs private. Eliza, who always makes the honor roll, continues on her mother’s academic tradition.

Compared to many people in their 25s and 30s, she appeared to be performing better. She is COMMITTED to her child and has no outside interests to divert her. Her daughter has an amazing energy and seems to be very content, happy, and well-rounded.

I Returned Home to Discover My Kids Asleep in the Hallway — The Transformation My Husband Made to Their Bedroom in My Absence Drove Me Wild

After a week away, I came home to the strange and unsettling sight of my kids sleeping on the cold hallway floor. Heart pounding, I searched for answers, only to find my husband missing and odd noises coming from the kids’ room. What I uncovered next left me furious — and ready for a fight!

I’d been away on a business trip for a week, and let me tell you, I was itching to get home. My boys, Tommy and Alex, were probably bouncing off the walls waiting for me.

I mean, a week is practically forever when you’re 6 and 8. And Mark? Well, I figured he’d be glad to hand the reins back to me. He’s a great dad, don’t get me wrong, but he’s always been more of the fun parent than the responsible one.

As I pulled into our driveway at midnight, I couldn’t help but grin. The house was dark and quiet, just as it should be at this ungodly hour.

I grabbed my suitcase and tiptoed to the front door, keys jingling softly in my hand.

The lock clicked open, and I stepped inside, ready to collapse into bed. But something was… wrong.

My foot hit something soft, and I froze. Heart pounding, I fumbled for the light switch. When the hall lit up, I almost screamed.

Tommy and Alex were sprawled out on the floor, tangled up in blankets like a couple of puppies. They were fast asleep, but their faces were smudged with dirt, and their hair was sticking up in all directions.

“What the hell?” I whispered, my mind racing. Had there been a fire? A gas leak? Why weren’t they in their beds?

I crept past them, afraid to wake them up until I knew what was going on. The living room was a disaster zone, littered with pizza boxes, soda cans, and what looked suspiciously like melted ice cream on the coffee table. But no sign of Mark.

My heart was doing the cha-cha in my chest as I made my way to our bedroom. Empty.

The bed was still made, like it hadn’t been slept in today. Mark’s car was in the driveway, so where was he?

That’s when I heard it. A faint, muffled sound coming from the boys’ room. I tiptoed over, my imagination running wild. Was Mark hurt? Had some psycho broken in and tied him up?

I pushed the door open, inch by inch, and…

“What. The. Actual—” I bit my tongue, remembering the kids were just down the hall.

There was Mark, headphones on, controller in hand, surrounded by empty energy drink cans and snack wrappers. But that wasn’t even the craziest part.

The boys’ room had been transformed into some kind of gamer paradise. A massive TV took up one wall, there were LED lights everywhere, and I’m pretty sure that monstrosity in the corner was a mini-fridge.

I stood there, mouth hanging open, as the rage built up inside me like a volcano about to blow. Mark hadn’t even noticed me yet, too engrossed in whatever game he was playing.

I stomped over and yanked the headphones off his head. “Mark! What the hell is going on?”

He blinked at me, looking dazed. “Oh, hey babe. You’re home early.”

“Early? It’s midnight! Why are our children sleeping on the floor?”

He shrugged, reaching for his controller again. “Oh, it’s fine. The boys were happy sleeping outside. They thought it was an adventure.”

I snatched the controller away. “An adventure? They’re not camping, Mark! They’re sleeping on our dirty hallway floor!”

“Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill,” he said, trying to grab the controller back. “Everything’s under control. I’ve been feeding them and stuff.”

“Feeding them? You mean the pizza boxes and ice cream in the living room?” I could feel my blood pressure rising with every word. “And what about baths? Or, I don’t know, their actual beds?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “They’re fine, Sarah. Lighten up a bit.”

That’s when I lost it.

“Lighten up? LIGHTEN UP? Our children are sleeping on the floor like animals while you play video games in their room! What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he huffed. “I’m just trying to have a little me-time. Is that so terrible?”

I took a deep breath, trying not to scream. “You know what? We’re not doing this right now. Go put the boys in their beds. Now.”

“But I’m in the middle of—”

“NOW, Mark!”

He grumbled but got up, shuffling past me.

I watched him pick up Tommy, who stirred a little but didn’t wake up. As Mark carried him to bed, I couldn’t help but think how alike they looked: one actual child and the man acting like one.

I scooped up Alex, my heart breaking a little at how dirty his face was. As I tucked him into bed, I made a decision. If Mark wanted to act like a child, then that’s exactly how I’d treat him.

The next morning, I put my plan into action.

While Mark was in the shower, I snuck into the man cave he’d created and unplugged everything. Then I got to work.

When he came downstairs, hair still wet, I was waiting for him with a big smile. “Good morning, sweetie! I made you breakfast!”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Uh, thanks?”

I set a plate in front of him. In the middle was a Mickey Mouse-shaped pancake with a smiley face made of fruit. His coffee was in a sippy cup.

“What’s this?” he asked, poking at the pancake.

“It’s your breakfast, silly! Now eat up, we have a big day ahead of us!”

After breakfast, I unveiled my masterpiece, a giant, colorful chore chart plastered on the fridge. “Look what I made for you!”

Mark’s eyes widened. “What the hell is that?”

“Language!” I scolded. “It’s your very own chore chart! See? You can earn gold stars for cleaning your room, doing the dishes, and putting away your toys!”

“My toys? Sarah, what are you—”

I cut him off. “Oh, and don’t forget! We have a new house rule. All screens off by 9 p.m. sharp. That includes your phone, mister!”

Mark’s face went from confused to angry. “Are you kidding me? I’m a grown man, I don’t need—”

“Ah, ah, ah!” I wagged my finger. “No arguing, or you’ll have to go to the timeout corner!”

For the next week, I stuck to my guns. Every night at 9, I’d shut off the Wi-Fi and unplug his gaming console.

I even tucked him into bed with a glass of milk and read him “Goodnight Moon” in my most soothing voice.

His meals were served on plastic plates with little dividers. I cut his sandwiches into dinosaur shapes and gave him animal crackers for snacks. When he complained, I’d say things like, “Use your words, honey. Big boys don’t whine.”

The chore chart was a particular point of contention. Every time he completed a task, I’d make a big show of giving him a gold star.

“Look at you, putting your laundry away all by yourself! Mommy’s so proud!”

He’d grit his teeth and mutter, “I’m not a child, Sarah.”

To which I’d reply, “Of course not, sweetie. Now, who wants to help make cookies?”

The breaking point came about a week into my little experiment. Mark had just been sent to the timeout corner for throwing a fit about his two-hour screen time limit. He sat there, fuming, while I calmly set the kitchen timer.

“This is ridiculous!” he exploded. “I’m a grown man, for God’s sake!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you sure about that? Because grown men don’t make their children sleep on the floor so they can play video games all night.”

He deflated a little. “Okay, okay, I get it! I’m sorry!”

I studied him for a moment. He did look genuinely remorseful, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook when I had one last blow to deliver.

“Oh, I accept your apology,” I said sweetly. “But I’ve already called your mom…”

The color drained from his face. “You didn’t.”

Right on cue, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to reveal Mark’s mother, looking every bit the disappointed parent.

“Mark!” she bellowed, marching into the house. “Did you really make my sweeties sleep on the floor so you could play your little games?”

Mark looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Mom, it’s not… I mean, I didn’t…”

She turned to me, her face softening. “Sarah, dear, I’m so sorry you had to deal with this. I thought I raised him better than that.”

I patted her arm. “It’s not your fault, Linda. Some boys just take longer to grow up than others.”

Mark’s face was beet red. “Mom, please. I’m 35 years old!”

Linda ignored him, turning back to me. “Well, not to worry. I’ve cleared my schedule for the next week. I’ll whip this boy back into shape in no time!”

As Linda bustled off to the kitchen, muttering about the state of the dishes, I caught Mark’s eye. He looked utterly defeated.

“Sarah,” he said quietly. “I really am sorry. I was selfish and irresponsible. It won’t happen again.”

I softened a little. “I know, honey. But when I’m away, I need to know you’ve got things under control. The boys need a father, not another playmate.”

He nodded, looking ashamed. “You’re right. I’ll do better, I promise.”

I smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “I know you will. Now, why don’t you go help your mother with the dishes? If you do a good job, maybe we can have ice cream for dessert.”

As Mark trudged off to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Lesson learned, I hoped. And if not… well, I still had that timeout corner ready and waiting.

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*