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Middle Aged Mommie: My daughter is adorable, but g-damn sometimes I need a break!

Becoming a mom to a living human baby at the age of 45 is a shock to the system. I feel immensely guilty saying that, but it is the truth.

As I stated in my previous post (which was hella long, TL;DR word vomit) after 45 years of being accountable to very few people, having a squalling infant, dependent on me for every need was a *little* hard to adapt to.

At first, I wanted to make sure I monitored her every need and move 24/7, but as that exhausted me to the point that I became physically ill from sleep deprivation, I had to give that up and try to find a happy medium to my parenting strategy which would still provide for Lil’ P, but which would allow me to actually sleep, eat, and occasionally shower.

Postpartum was challenging for me, too. For, as I live with way too many mental health issues, it was difficult to tell if I was depressed because of postpartum depression, or if I was just going through a normal downswing in my depressive cycle.

But, after a few months #BritishHusband and I found our rhythm and started to get good at the parenting a newborn thing. We had a routine, we had a schedule. I took the dayshift, he took the nightshift. We both had to work, so we were both still exhausted – but thankfully I work from home, so we didn’t need to hire anyone to come in and stay with Lil’ P, except when I needed a break or had a lot of projects to work on at once.

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This Is 45: New Beginnings

When I started this blog in 2016, the idea was for me to get back into the writing groove after an extended writer’s block following the death of my daughter, Maddie.

Obviously, that went SO extremely well that I abandoned the project immediately after I started it.

Three years later: Live has changed so drastically for me that it’s sometimes hard to comprehend the person I was previously. Married, sad, very bothered about politics and people being mean on the Internet… definitely not living my best life.

These days, I’m not sure that I’m living my best life, still – but, I am absolutely closer to it. For starters, in 2017 #BritishHusband and I decided to make a move… literally across the country. The contending cities were both where my best friends (Meows and Molly, respectively,) live. That meant New York and LA. As I am a lover of sunshine, and generally hate New York since living there for six weeks in the late 90s, we chose to uproot and trek with ourselves, our stuff, and our dogs cross country to Hollyweird. For me, it seemed a great choice: I had lots of friends and family in the greater LA area, it was obviously a place where I could get work both as a writer and in communications, and beach! I also figured that #BritishHusband would be able to pursue his comedy dreams and also find some kind of meaningful work.

We landed here in August of 2017 and I was happy. I did things, I saw people (something that I had not been doing in Chicago,) I spent time with my niece and nephew, I got a tan. I did not know or recognize that #BritishHusband wasn’t having such a grand time. He soldiered on for me, because I wanted to be in LA, but he was becoming increasingly frustrated with how expensive things are, and was feeling pretty useless and unhappy. Not to mention, it cost us a ton of money to move across the country and establish ourselves in LA… so now we were close to broke, too. Anyone who has been here knows that to really have a good time in LA you gotta have the chedda. This, of course, caused contention and strife in our marriage… which we were working on, but little did we know the biggest life change either of us had ever faced was about to hit us.

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