I had a protracted time in the mate-search. Met Gary at 31, re-met at 33 (long story), married at 35. Then, with the casual assumption of youth, that motherhood would be available to me any time I wanted, we waited 4 years before attempting pregnancy. Passed our 5 year anniversary with me 7 months along with Connor. I was 40, 4 months from my 41st birthday when he was born. Again the casual assumption that the opportunity would be there for me when I felt ready to add a sibling to our family. I'd heard a 3 year spacing was optimal and it made sense at the time. In the meantime we'd moved from our city in the Pacific Northwest to the midwest. Pregnancy did not come easily this time, in fact we scraped together what funds we had and a credit card for our one shot at fertility treatments: injectible fertility drugs and interuterine insemination. To our enormous good fortune this resulted in Scott. We had a 4 year spacing between the boys, and I was nearly 45 when Scott was born.
My own baby gave me baby hunger and for a while I intensely longed to try again and to hell with spacing. Fortunately there was no pregnancy before Scott's turning 3 with an older sibling sobered me up quick. I was pretty maxed out with two, and the dynamic between them.
So, I became a mother in my forties. Since the oldest is now 10 I'm 51. Married for 15 years. An at-home mom for 8 years (our move to the midwest was partly motivated by the prospect of a family wage by one earner so I could be home with the kid(s). We moved back to the northwest just 3 years ago after 5 in St. Louis.)