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.

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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.

We Took in a Homeless Man for the Winter — The Package He Left Before Leaving Broke Us

A freezing night and a simple act of kindness brought a homeless man named Jeff into Ellie’s home and her life. But as their bond grew, an unexpected discovery unraveled secrets from the past.

For months, I saw him sitting near the bench by the bus stop outside my office. He always had that same small, battered kit, fixing shoes like it was his job. His clothes were clean but shabby, and his hands were rough, though they moved with such care.

A homeless man | Source: Freepik

A homeless man | Source: Freepik

I couldn’t help but notice him. Something about the way he carried himself struck me. He never begged or even looked like he wanted anything from anyone. I started saying hello when I passed by. He’d smile politely, nod, and go back to his work.

One day, on a whim, I handed him a shoe with a broken heel. “Do you think you can fix this?” I asked, unsure why I even stopped.

A woman with her shoes off | Source: Freepik

A woman with her shoes off | Source: Freepik

He looked up at me, his eyes warm but tired. “Sure thing,” he said, holding it up to inspect. “Should take me about twenty minutes.”

I sat nearby, watching him. He was quiet but focused, like fixing that shoe was the most important thing in the world. When he handed it back, it was as good as new.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

A young businesswoman talking to a homeless man | Source: Midjourney

A young businesswoman talking to a homeless man | Source: Midjourney

“Jeff,” he said simply, tucking his tools back into the kit.

One night, just before Christmas, the air was freezing. I pulled my coat tighter as I walked to my car, but something made me stop. Through the window of a café about to close, I saw Jeff. He was sitting alone at a table, his head down, clutching a small package wrapped in brown paper.

A homeless man looking down | Source: Freepik

A homeless man looking down | Source: Freepik

I stepped inside, the warmth hitting me immediately. “Jeff,” I said softly, walking over to him. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have somewhere to go?”

He looked up, startled at first, then relaxed when he saw me. “Shelter’s full tonight,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But don’t worry, I’ll manage.”

I frowned. “It’s freezing out there. You can’t stay out in this.”

A serious woman outside in the snow | Source: Freepik

A serious woman outside in the snow | Source: Freepik

He shrugged. “It’s not the first cold night I’ve had.”

The thought of him out there in that weather made my chest tighten. “Come home with me,” I blurted.

He blinked. “What?”

“I mean it,” I said, more firmly this time. “We have a basement. It’s not fancy, but it’s warm, and there’s a bed. You can stay there for the night.”

A woman talking to a homeless man | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to a homeless man | Source: Midjourney

Jeff shook his head. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” I interrupted. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re out here.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. “You’re too kind, you know that?” he said finally, his voice soft.

I smiled. “Come on.”

A smiling woman outside in winter | Source: Freepik

A smiling woman outside in winter | Source: Freepik

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of bacon and the sound of laughter. I found Jeff in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while my kids sat at the table, grinning ear to ear.

“Mom, Jeff’s so funny!” my youngest said, her face sticky with syrup.

Jeff glanced over and smiled sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. Thought I’d make myself useful.”

I shook my head, smiling back. “Not at all.”

Freshly baked pancakes | Source: Pexels

Freshly baked pancakes | Source: Pexels

Later that day, I went down to the basement to check on him. Everything that had been broken, an old lamp, a wobbly chair, even a leaky faucet, was fixed. He’d polished all our shoes too.

That evening, I brought it up to my husband. “What if we let him stay for the winter?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“He’s kind, he’s helpful, and…” I paused. “I don’t know. It just feels right.”

A couple talking | Source: Freepik

A couple talking | Source: Freepik

After a long silence, my husband nodded. “Okay. But just for the winter.”

When I told Jeff, he looked stunned. “I can’t impose like that,” he said.

“It’s not imposing,” I assured him. “We’d like to have you here.”

For the next few weeks, Jeff became part of the family. The kids adored him, and he was always finding ways to help around the house. It felt like he belonged with us, though I couldn’t explain why.

A man washing the dishes | Source: Pexels

A man washing the dishes | Source: Pexels

One evening, we were sitting in the living room, chatting about old times. I pulled out a photo of my parents to show him.

“This is my mom and dad,” I said, handing him the picture.

Jeff froze, his face going pale. His hands trembled as he stared at the photo. “Your mom…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, alarmed.

An elderly man looking at a photo | Source: Pexels

An elderly man looking at a photo | Source: Pexels

But he didn’t answer. He just stood up abruptly and left the room.

The next morning, he was gone. All that was left was his package, carefully placed on the pillow in the basement.

It was the same brown paper package Jeff always carried, the one he never let out of his sight. Now it was here, deliberately left behind. I stared at it for a long moment before slowly peeling back the paper.

A brown package | Source: Pexels

A brown package | Source: Pexels

Inside was a photograph and a folded letter.

I picked up the photo first. My breath caught in my throat. It was Jeff—much younger, his face free of the wear and sadness I’d come to recognize. He was smiling, holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. On the back, in neat handwriting, were the words: “Jeff and Ellie, 1986.”

I stared at the name. My name.

A happy man with his daughter | Source: Midjourney

A happy man with his daughter | Source: Midjourney

My hands shook as I unfolded the letter. The words blurred as tears filled my eyes, but I forced myself to keep reading.

Jeff wrote about his life, his mistakes, and the love he lost. He explained how he’d met my mother when they were young and deeply in love. But life hadn’t been perfect. He admitted he’d cheated, a mistake he regretted every single day. When my mother found out, she left him, cutting him out of her life completely.

A senior man writing | Source: Freepik

A senior man writing | Source: Freepik

“I tried to see you,” he wrote. “I begged her to let me stay in your life, but she wouldn’t hear it. She moved away, and I had no way to find you. I lost everything—my family, my career, my home. I never forgave myself for failing you. When I saw your mother’s photo, I knew immediately who you were. But I was too ashamed to tell you. I didn’t deserve you, Ellie. I still don’t.”

The letter ended with: “I love you, my little Ellie, more than I can ever say. I hope you can forgive me someday.”

An elderly man writing | Source: Freepik

An elderly man writing | Source: Freepik

I sat there, stunned, clutching the photo and letter. How could this be true? My father, the man I believed had abandoned us, was Jeff?

My shock quickly turned into anger. I grabbed my phone and called my mom. She answered on the second ring.

“Ellie?” she said, her voice bright.

An elderly woman on her phone | Source: Pexels

An elderly woman on her phone | Source: Pexels

“How could you?” I snapped.

She paused. “What are you talking about?”

“Jeff. I know everything. I know who he is. Why didn’t you tell me?”

There was silence on the other end of the line, then a shaky breath. “Ellie… it’s complicated.”

An angry woman on her phone | Source: Freepik

An angry woman on her phone | Source: Freepik

“Complicated?” I shot back. “You told me he left us. You said he didn’t want to be part of our lives. But that’s not true, is it?”

Through tears, she admitted the truth. She’d been hurt, angry, and unwilling to forgive him. She thought it would be easier to raise me without him, so she cut him out completely.

“I thought I was protecting you,” she said. “I never thought you’d find him. I’m so sorry.”

A sad elderly woman on her phone | Source: Freepik

A sad elderly woman on her phone | Source: Freepik

I hung up, overwhelmed. Everything I thought I knew about my life had been a lie.

For weeks, I searched for Jeff. I went to the spots I’d seen him before, hoping to catch even a glimpse of him. Each day I came home disappointed.

Then, one afternoon, I saw him. He was sitting on a bench near my workplace, staring into the distance. He looked smaller, sadder.

A sad homeless man | Source: Freepik

A sad homeless man | Source: Freepik

“Jeff,” I called softly.

He looked up, and his eyes filled with recognition and something else—regret. “Ellie,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for leaving. I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to face you after you found out.”

I walked closer, my chest tight with emotion. “You should’ve stayed,” I said. “You’re my father. I needed to talk to you, to understand everything.”

A young woman talking to an elderly man | Source: Midjourney

A young woman talking to an elderly man | Source: Midjourney

His shoulders slumped. “I didn’t think I deserved that.”

I sat down beside him. “Maybe not. But you’re here now. And that’s all that matters.”

He looked at me, his eyes glistening with tears. “Do you think… you can forgive me?”

I leaned in and hugged him tightly, the tears finally spilling over. “I already have, Dad.”

A crying elderly man | Source: Pexels

A crying elderly man | Source: Pexels

From that moment on, everything changed. Jeff came back into my life, not just as a father but as part of the family. My kids adored him—they called him Grandpa Jeff, and he loved every second of it.

He wasn’t perfect. We had years of pain and misunderstanding to work through, but he tried every day to make up for the time we’d lost. His kindness, his humor, and his quiet strength became a foundation for our family.

Grandfather and his grandson | Source: Pexels

Grandfather and his grandson | Source: Pexels

Looking back, I realized how much I almost lost by holding on to anger and pain. Forgiving Jeff didn’t just heal him, it healed me, too.

Sometimes, second chances aren’t about what we deserve. They’re about what we’re willing to fight for.

And we fought for each other. Every day, we fought to rebuild what we’d lost.

A hopeful woman | Source: Freepik

A hopeful woman | Source: Freepik

Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: Thanksgiving dinner at my house was shaping up to be the same as always. But when my mother-in-law, Linda, walked in clutching her sweater tightly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something. And I was right. There was something under her shirt and it left us all speechless.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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