Conception at 45?

Turning Two

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You would think after having two years experience (that’s 730 days) of watching my child grow and develop, I would have come to terms with him inevitably getting older. I have not.  I have made strides in the right direction (acceptance), but my heart still aches a bit with each inch and milestone he conquers.

O’s second birthday is approaching, and if I let myself breathe that all in, it could seriously knock the wind out of me.  My husband has been asking me what’s wrong with me lately.  He can tell something is “off.”  I keep saying it’s my stomach.  I just don’t feel right. Well, when something is bothering me, that’s where the stress goes.  Right to my gut.  I’ve not been purposely lying to him.  I actually didn’t realize the correlation until I started writing this post.  But that’s what’s “got” me.  My baby is growing up and there is no way to stop the clock.

That’s not to say that I want to actually stop the clock.  Of course not.  I want to see him grow and thrive and become the man he is meant to be.  It’s just the pangs of loss that hit me occasionally.  Sometimes gently and sometimes like a smack across the face.  Like now, as this 2 year marker approaches.  I understand how precious this whole process is.  The act of raising, caring for, and unconditionally loving this being that was created with such love.  It is awesome and truly the best thing I have ever done in my life. And it’s all flying by so quickly.  I believe this is one of the big reasons why people have more children.  The feeling is so wonderful, at times, euphoric.  Of course you want to  make it last.  So you have another.  And maybe another.  Unless you can’t.  Unless it maybe just isn’t in the cards.

Ah, and there it is.  The crux of the matter.  I didn’t really think about O’s birthday coinciding with the end of our “have another baby” project.  But the months have passed and with each one came a reminder that I’m not going to have another child.  I promised I wouldn’t be upset.  I promised.  But as I sit here wiping away my tears, I’m finding my promise is proving to be empty, however well intentioned.  I won’t let myself spiral into a dark place over it, however.  I have far far too much to be thankful for to let that happen.  But I think my not allowing sadness over it was a mistake.  That’s a ridiculous notion, really.   Not allowing sadness?  It’s just silly.  As if my heart has a choice.  Ha.

So I’ll go on, filling my my mind and days with work and projects.  I’ll spin more plates than usual, no doubt.  But I will be aware of my particular sadness and honor it.  And I suppose, if I need to cry, well then, I’ll cry.  At least I won’t be denying my feelings.  If you read my blog, you know that I believe everything happens the way it is supposed to.  And I don’t believe in regrets.  I believe in lessons.  But this advanced maternal age mommy wishes perhaps she didn’t wait quite so long to have a child.  Maybe there would have been time for another?   A tough lesson to swallow in hindsight.  But then, perhaps another child was never in the cards.  You can really think it to death.  Who really has time for that?

So as my little O gets ready to turn two, we will celebrate his time so far on this earth and the immense  joy he brings us….with a Sesame Street theme, no less.  We are having a combined birthday with his second cousin, Nora, who was born two days after him.  Lots of Elmo and Abby Caddaby!  Alphabet cookies, crayons and Cookie Monster fudge!  I’ll take lots of pics for a fun party blog.  And I won’t forget for a moment all that I have.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading. Xo

Here It Comes

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Well, there is snow on the skylight.  I’m under a faux fur blanket and my luxurious long underwear are certainly getting some “wear time.”  I’ve been avoiding writing this post, like I do many…but this one in particular seems to be my hardest thus far.  You see, I’d like to lie to you.  I’d like to fill the screen with fibs and fantasy. But that wasn’t our agreement.  No.  I promised to honestly examine what it is like to be a new mother of advanced maternal age.  So here it goes….or should I say, here it comes?

No one really wants to talk about it.  Certainly not me.  How I have escaped it up til now, I don’t know. Some women deal with it much earlier, so I’m thankful at least for that.  Oh, God, Mary, just say it!  Ok! Ok! Perimenopause.  There I’ve said it.  In simpler terms it means the beginning of “the change.” Right now all it means to me is night sweats at certain times of the month.  Icky, cruddy, soaking pajama top night sweats.  Night sweats suck.  Just getting that out there.  But for some it can include many more symptoms like daily hot flashes, loss of sex drive, pain during intercourse…among other fun things.  Ugh.  Good times, eh?

I am actually having a difficult time accepting this upcoming change in my body.  I don’t like it.  My doctor says I can still get pregnant, so that isn’t what is bothering me.  It’s just the fact that finally my body is telling me that I am getting older.  I always felt like I could defy it, at least within reason.  But this onset can’t be avoided with clean eating, more crunches at the gym, or more miles logged on the treadmill.  It can’t be hidden by creams, serums, or Botox.  It’s the real deal.  It’s the beginning of a bridge taking you to the next phase of your life.  As much as I talk about wanting to age gracefully, I feel like I’m on the one side of that bridge….resisting going forward….but the bridge is actually a moving walkway…it doesn’t stop because I wish it so.  It is just like Time always proves to be…relentless.  There is no spanner to throw in this wheel to stop it spinning.  It is all how nature intended.  I just thought Mother Nature and I had a special understanding. Ha.

Yesterday at story time at our local library I looked around at the other adults in the room.  It was either young moms or youngish grandmothers.  It occurred to me that I fall somewhere in between these groups of women.  I made  friends with some of the moms, and realized that, although we can relate through our children, I can’t actually relate to them on a personal level.  Not really.   And the same goes for the older women there.  I find myself on my own plane.  Running after my toddler waiting for a hot flash to zap me.  It’s bizzaro world.  Does that make any sense?

I know, I know. I’m ungrateful. I’m superficial. I’m whining about something that happens to every woman, eventually. How dare I be annoyed at Mother Nature when she has really been so good to me. I should be so thankful that I am healthy. That I rocked a bikini up until I had O at 44! That I have escaped so many things that can afflict us. And mostly, I should be grateful that the powers of life, let me conceive and give birth to a beautiful healthy son. And I am!! So very grateful. I’m just whining…and maybe feeling some of those mood swings that can also hit you during this time.  Most of all, I’m feeling sorry for myself. Like my wise Mother-in law tells me, time and time again…this too shall pass.

Until next time, I’ll keep battling through my own personal Bikram Bedtime.  Keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading.  Xo.

It Is What It Is

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Well, I don’t know about you, but this holiday weekend has left me completely wiped out.  We hosted Thanksgiving dinner for 10 people and a dog, had my parents visiting with us all week, and had our bathroom remodel project commence.  Well, just about.  There are a few things the contractors still need to attend to.  Getting them back here is going to be a headache for sure.  Ugh.  I am digressing, as usual.  Suffice it to say, I’d like to take a long long bath in our new tub.  That’s a great idea.

Of course, all the happenings I just listed were all fraught with bumps and hiccups.  Isn’t everything? I kept the phrase, “It is what it is,” going around in my head like a mantra.  Cause it’s just the truth.  Nothing turns out like you wish it to.  You can plan your Thanksgiving dinner for 4pm, but, if you are us, it’s more like 6pm.  You can try your hardest to please people, but, if you are me, you usually wind up disappointed at the response.  And you can expect a certain level of workmanship from a craftsman, but if you are a perfectionist like me, their work most likely will come up short.  I sound like I’m whining.  I’m really not.  It’s just an exhausted response…but in my heart of hearts I know it is what it is.

The same goes for our project sibling.  No success with conception to date.   While the “trying” is fun, it’s also exhausting.  After two months of no bun in the oven, I am getting the feeling that it may just not happen.  I promised myself I would be ok with it.  But, of course, I feel the pang of disappointment, even if I am keeping it in check.  I think it’s harder to see the look of disappointment on my husband’s face.  It’s was so easy last time, I think he thought it would happen just as quickly the second time around.  But I know that my body is 2 years older than the last time.  I can feel the difference in my body, though no one might be able to see it.  Do any of you gals in your 40’s or higher know what I’m talking about? It’s so strange.  It’s like aging starts to accelerate from within.  It’s totally weird.  So I truly leave it up to God and the Universe.  It is what it is.  And it will be what it will be.

I find the lack of my ability to control the outcome oddly comforting.  I’m glad it’s not up to me.  I get to sit back and wait and see what happens.  I get to have Faith.  I get to Trust in something greater than myself.  I get to say, “It is what it is” and mean it.  And I am reminded everyday that I am not pregnant, I am so so lucky to have the beautiful child I do have.

Until next time, enjoy your left overs and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is messing it up.  I’m going to soak in a hot tub with a glass of Pinot Noir.  Thanks so much for reading xo.

 

Sexy Mommy Happy Family

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I recently shared our “project” to attempt getting pregnant again.  As fun as it can be,  it is also quite a commitment.  It requires energy.  Something that after being up since 6am, running around after a toddler since 7:30am, I am on short supply of most days.  It also, I’m finding, requires effort.  I’m not talking  about “the act” itself.  I’m talking about getting myself feeling ready for a “tumble.”  I never thought I’d say this, but feeling sexy can be a challenge for me as a stay at home mom.  So here are a few things I find myself doing to combat that:

I get dressed.  Everyday.  Sweatpants more than two days in a row is bad.  Even if I’m not going out, I put on something that makes me feel good.  Sweatpants don’t make anyone feel good.  They make you feel comfy and cozy….but not sexy.  Now yoga pants can make me feel sexy if paired with a cute lulu lemon top…but again, not worn on consequetive days.  Also, not to be forgotten, I try to wear a sexy bra.  NOTHING is sexy about a jog bra.  NOTHING.

I take the time to put some light makeup on.  This is not for my husband, who literally could care less if I ever put makeup on again. This is totally for me.  Again, even if I’m not going out, it makes ME feel pretty. It’s something small that goes a long way.  Being totally honest, it’s not super easy being the oldest Mom at the story time, or at the market.  In some small way it helps me feel like I might avoid the “Is that your grandson?” comment.  (God help me when THAT happens).

I shave my legs and underarms.  I use a great shaving gel that keeps my skin nice and smooth and hydrated.  Thank you Trader Joes.  I am a big advocate of “au naturale” but let’s be frank, hairy legs and pits don’t scream “sexy time.” I also use lovely lotions on my limbs and a spritz of perfume.  Smelling good is a huge part of being desired by my husband.  I love it when he comes home, embraces me and takes a huge breath to take in my scent.  Let that be a positive experience for him.

Beyond all the superficial things (which are valid), I think there are more important things involved in feeling sexy.  These are things which may not be as simple to do on a daily basis.  I try to challenge myself each day to do something I think I might not be able to do.  Because it gives me confidence.  And confidence is sexy.  I try to find the humor in everything I do and in most experiences, each day.  Because funny is sexy.  I practice gratitude daily because happy is sexy.  I am not always successful in accomplishing these things…but I try.  And trying, is, yup, you bet, sexy.

I understand that these last points are the true keys to feeling and, in fact, being sexy.  Maybe that is the allure of the “older woman?”  Lol!  Maybe it’s the amount of pheromones we ladies on the older side of young emit into the atmosphere? Who knows? Who cares? What I do know is that for me, sexy is as much a state of mind as it is anything else.  You can have the perfect makeup on and the most expensive perfumes…hell, you can be wearing a piece of dental floss from Victoria’s Secret, but if you don’t “own” being sexy, well. you’re just not.  I mean, really…ever have an orgasm when your head wasn’t in the game? Right.  Enough said.  Sexy Mommy signing off.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember behind every great kid is a mom who is sure she is messing it up.  Xo

 

Project Sibling

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The Universe has conspired to make me sit down and write.  It is O’s nap time.  The hinges I bought off of Amazon for the bathroom cabinets don’t fit properly….so there will be no replacing them instead of writing.  I was going to start to paint the walls of the master bath, but I now have to clean and paint the baseboard heating covers and don’t have the right high heat paint to tackle the task.  I can’t  just leave my sleeping angel in the house while I run to Lowes….so I’ll have to go later. Perfect window of time to write.  The fact is that I am faced with a blog that is due tomorrow, but I’d rather eat potato chips.  Or bacon cheese flavored popcorn.  Any yummy tasty savory item from the Trader Joes snack aisle will do.  I want to mindlessly crunch away like a teenager.  I find it a satisfying way to avoid the task at hand.  Maybe one more handful before I decide whether to spill or zip it.

Alas, I am writing the piece.  After two bowls of crunchy goodness (boy, that’s an oxymoron), I am hitting the keys.  I am tentative about sharing this week’s tidbit.  Part of me feels like if I share it that I am somehow accountable if things don’t work out.  But a bigger part of me knows that there are women just like me who are contemplating  the same thing.  Ok, ok, enough with the lead in…I’m talking about having another baby.  Everyone has there own opinion on the subject.  A lot of women my age are done after having one.  Why push it, right? I see their point.

It takes me back to when I was 39 weeks pregnant with O and I had an exam with an older male doctor I had never been seen by before.  This practice in Florida was odd.  You could request a specific Doctor for appointments, but when you actually went into labor, you got whoever was on call.  So they urged you to familiarize yourself with as many physicians in the practice as possible.  And there were a lot.  Oye! I digress.  Anyway, on this particular day I opted to see Dr. Collins a.k.a. Crabby Pants.  I remember him telling me while discussing the labor,”Well, at your age, you don’t want to mess this up….I mean, it’s one and done for you.”  I remember feeling like I was slapped in the face.  I told another physician what he had said and she just shook her head.  Tossed it up to him being ready to retire.  But it does make you think.  At least he made me think.

Well, after a bit of a touch and go medical issue, my doctor up here in New England told me there is no reason we shouldn’t try.  I’m fit and I’ve got the blood pressure of a teenager, hence the teenager snack attacks.  By all snack accounts I should be over weight, but as my luck would have it, I’m as slim as I was when I was a vegetarian and really watched everything I ate.  (Completely unfair, I know).  So according to my lovely Dr., we have the all clear to jump to it.  I would prefer to say like rabbits…but apparently it’s more of an every other day thing.  You don’t want to exhaust the sperm.  Who knew? I assumed the more sex the better.  There will be no hormones or fertility drugs involved.  It’s Au Naturale for us.

So, here’s to trying.  Really trying.  And if it doesn’t happen, then Frieda, my friend and psychic, was right.  It won’t be meant to be.  And in the mean time, me and my young husband can have a lot of fun.  Either way it will all turn out the way it is supposed to.  I have been so blessed already, it seems greedy of me to want another.  If you asked me a year ago if I would want another, my answer would not have been  the same.  I have evolved into a really good mom. I’m so happy to be right where I am.  So happy to share raising or child with my husband.  It’s more happiness than I ever knew was possible.   So I am making a promise to myself right here and now, in front of all of you.  I will not be upset if we don’t get pregnant.  I won’t let it shade the abundant sunshine we live in.  I truly believe in things happening the way they are supposed to.  My entire life is a testament to just that.  So we will give it a go.  Here’s to Project Sibling! Lol!

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight.  I know what I’ll be doing.  And remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is messing it up.  Xo