MADELEINE WEST: 'What it's like parenting when my eldest child is 20 and my youngest is 3 months.'

After 20 years of parenting, you could be forgiven for assuming I have some idea what I'm doing.

To the untrained eye, I certainly look like I have it all together. I have the feeding schedule. I have the Bugaboo. I'm maintaining the delicate balance between school bus drop off and Mums and Bubs pilates.

There is still a meal on the table every evening (I can't promise it's always edible, but it's there) and the kids trundle off to school with a lovingly packed lunchbox (that's if they don't forget it in the backseat of the car halfway) and the return to work with bub in tow is.…well it's a work in progress.

But I can say as an actor, one skill you learn to employ is the subtle art of smoke and mirrors.

Watch: Madeleine West talks about parenting later in life on No Filter. Post continues below.

That's right, faking it till you make it. I've become like a duck. Smooth, Mona Lisa-like serenity on the surface, legs paddling a million miles an hour beneath. Because I thought I had a handle on the pitter, splatter and clatter of parenting.

But after two blue lines on a wee stick proved it wasn't menopause I was wrangling with, but later-in-life pregnancy, I have found myself back at the starters line on a crash course I thought I was on the cusp of completing. This was not something I expected to be doing in my mid-40s.

Yoga? Yes. 

Meditation retreats? Yes. 

Reenacting Eat, Pray Love in order to stave off a midlife crisis? YES!

Instead, it's yes, I am the oldest 'new' mum at mothers' group.

No, I have not yet been mistaken for grandma, and no, when asking which aisle the nappies are in, I've not yet felt obliged to explain they aren't for me, but it's on the cards.

I'm not for a moment going to pretend I know what I'm doing. Frankly, beginning at the beginning of parenting again is like exploring a new frontier. The key difference is this time, as chaotically busy as I am, I'm taking the time to enjoy the ride. 

The biggest difference I've noticed is how far nursery equipment has evolved in 20 years. My stash of baby stuff seemed to dwindle with each new arrival, til finally I'd gotten rid of the lot. Now, confronted with the plethora of Gen-A, Wi-Fi-connected, new-fangled, 'must-have' parenting paraphernalia on the market, I just want to curl up in the corner and suck my thumb.

See, I struggle to send emails with attachments, let alone remember my password or wifi codes.

It's been 10 years since my darling twins were in nappies and boy have things changed. There are now cots that rock themselves! Nightlights that serenade baby to sleep while monitoring room temperature! What's next? An iPhone app with an AI-generated nappy changing service? (Actually, while slightly weird, it's not inconceivable…and would be really handy, if only for the really stinky ones).

Perhaps the biggest struggle to date has been sleep. I truly had no idea how much you actually need and how much I'd become accustomed to getting. How on earth did I go for 15 years straight, averaging between two and five hours of shut-eye a night?

It probably explains some of my career choices in that period and some of my fashion choices to boot. AND why I've been in a very bad mood for the last 10. Above all else, I've learned to prioritise my wellness and the importance of being present. It really is the greatest gift you can give yourself and your kids. It costs nothing but the results are priceless. 

Madeleine in the throes of life with a newborn. Image: Instagram/@msmadswest.

Having witnessed a few childhoods, tweenhoods, teenhoods and young adulthoods now, I know how quickly they go and how moments that feel unendurable will pass in the blink of an eye. So now, I take the time to lean into that. Not just with bubs but my whole brood. I've become a slow parent. Not because I ought to be using a zimmerframe (also on the cards), but because I don't want to miss a moment.

I prioritise and protect slow mornings laying in bed giggling with my kids. I carve out time for long slow baths, long meandering walks that don't necessarily need to get anywhere. It's the journey that I'm interested in, not the destination.

I remember, amid the fog of early first-time motherhood, regularly waking every morning in panic. Mentally triaging the day, making a list, long before my feet touched the floor, sweating over the stuff I needed to do for everyone else, while my needs barely rated a mention. Rushing rushing rushing to get through the day, to get through the week, to get through the month, the year, to get to that holiday, and then rushing rushing rushing to the buffet breakfast, to the beach, to the pool to the restaurant. Getting my kids up in the morning, rushing just to get them back to bed. Why? Just to carve out a little Me time? These days I find the greatest relaxation and contentment in the smallest of things. The simplest of pleasures, and the more I lean into those the happier I am.

I feel so lucky to be part of the miraculous cycle that is bringing new life into this world. I've been doing it now for 20 years, and I am determined to celebrate the positives rather than grumble too much about the negatives. Because it is hard. I don't suffer from delusions, or Pollyanna syndrome. Nor do I suffer fools, or their commentary on how I live my life. Because at the end of the day, what others think of me is not my business, and had I let what others have said of me across my life impact the decisions I make and the way I live, I would never step out the front door. In fact, I'd never leave my bed.

This time around, I'm spending a lot of time working on what I think of myself and how that impacts those nearest and dearest to me.

There's an old adage about a young mum struggling with a crying baby in a busy restaurant. The young folk and the men in the room will all be rolling their eyes and scowling, but the older women, the mothers, would be smiling and nodding in empathy. Been there, done that.

Now, whenever I hit a hurdle, struggling through a sleepless night, a crying babe, frustrated kids and an overflowing shopping trolley, should I catch my harried reflection on one of the glass doors in the freezer section, I take the time to pause, nod, and smile empathetically to myself.

To smile on my experience, because I too have been there, done that. As a parent, I've become a lot more forgiving of myself. And others. I have a lot more patience. I have a lot more comprehension, understanding, and tolerance.

Despite 20 years of parenting, I'm much more student than master. Probably because I'm still learning every day and more importantly, I want to learn. I'm slowing down, smelling the roses, practicing presence. I'm so proud of my body for all it has overcome, and all it still manages to do. I have lumps, and bumps, bulgy veins, baggy bits and saggy bits. But they are all part of the puzzle that is me, Mum, and it's never been so complete. 

So much has changed and there is so much I forgot, but one thing remains true. That is my surprise at how much a body can endure. How much a heart can hold. And that even when your cup is empty, there's still plenty of love to go around.

Images: Supplied.