Raising little ones while caring for aging parents isn’t just overwhelming—it’s invisible, emotional, and very real. Here is my experience with sandwich generation stress.
What Is the Sandwich Generation?
The term “sandwich generation” refers to people—often in their 30s to 50s—who are caring for both their children and their aging parents at the same time. With women giving birth later in life than ever before, more of us are finding ourselves in this squeezed middle space.
In fact, the average age of first-time moms in the U.S. has steadily increased to 30 in major cities, and many women (like me) are becoming moms well into their late 30s and 40s. At the same time, 1 in 5 adults in the U.S. is providing unpaid care to an adult with health or aging-related needs. 61% of them are still working. If that sounds like your life, it’s not a coincidence. It’s a silent epidemic.
I Became a Mom at 38—And Everything Changed
I didn’t plan to wait, not exactly. But life—careers, relationships, all of it—happens on its own timeline. When my daughter was born, I was 38, full of love, and full of plans for the kind of parent I wanted to be.
At the same time, my dad was starting to become unwell. My mom was struggling with her mobility. Doctor visits began to creep onto my calendar in between playdates and preschool drop-off. Suddenly, I was parenting two generations—and losing myself somewhere in the shuffle.
Then I lost my dad.
Suddenly, it wasn’t just caregiving. It was grief, too. The kind that hits you when you’re making waffles for a toddler while trying not to cry into the mixing bowl. Everything got sharper. Heavier. More real.
When You’re Taking Care of Everyone But Yourself
There are mornings I wake up already tired. I pack school lunches while texting my mom’s pharmacy. I answer emails with one hand while filling out medical forms with the other. There’s a baby monitor on my nightstand—and a medical alert app on my phone. No one sees the mental juggling.
I love them all deeply. I’d do anything for my daughter, and I owe everything to my parents. But sometimes I lie awake at 2 a.m., wondering if I’m failing everyone, because I haven’t had a thought that belongs solely to me in months.
The Emotional Toll of The Sandwich Generation That No One Talks About
People say, “You’re doing such a great job!”
But the truth is, I’m often not sure I am.
I cry in the car. I feel guilt for missing the preschool art show and guilt for skipping a doctor’s appointment with my mom. My daughter wants me on the floor playing Barbies. My mom wants help with her banking. I want ten minutes to breathe—and I feel guilty for even wanting that. I don’t need a gold star, or a pat on the back. I just want to feel like I’m not drowning.
Small Strategies That Help in Big Ways
I won’t pretend there’s a fix-all. But I’ve picked up a few lifelines along the way—small things that bring back just a bit of peace, and control, and clarity.
Time Block Like It’s Sacred
I use Google Calendar like my life depends on it. I block out work time, school time, appointment time, and—yes—”lie on the couch and cry” time. I protect those blocks like they’re sacred, because in this life, they are.
Keep a Shared Digital Notebook
My family uses a shared Google Doc to track doctor’s names, medications, emergency contacts, and schedules. It’s not fancy, but it’s a sanity-saver in urgent moments—and it helps my sibling or husband easily pitch in, too.
Say Yes to Help (Even When It’s Awkward)
The friend who says, “Let me know if you need anything”? Ask her to grab milk. The neighbor who offered to drive your kid to soccer? Say yes. You are not weak for needing help. You are human.
Talk to a Therapist—Even Virtually
Caregiver burnout is real. Resentment is real. A therapist helped me work through the rage I didn’t know I was carrying. Many now offer flexible, online sessions you can do from your car, your kitchen—anywhere you can find 30 minutes ( I love the car sessions, it feels like a safe space for me).
Label Everything (Seriously)
I label my daughter’s backpack. I label my mom’s pill box. I label laundry, chargers, walkers, and reusable water bottles. It sounds small, but every “Where’s my…” you can avoid is one less moment of chaos.
If this resonates with you, you’re not alone
If you’re reading this, and you’re in it—the mess, the guilt, the heartbreak—I want you to know something:
You are not a bad daughter. You are not a bad mom. You are a person doing the impossible.
And maybe, today, it’s okay if the dishes don’t get done. Maybe today, it’s enough that you made it through. You are seen. You are loved. And you are not alone.
For some great tips on how to talk to your kids about dementia, read more here.
