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.Continue reading