Blink of an Eye by Robin Gorman Newman

                      
My father (above) had a stroke over a week ago, and his life changed in a flash, as did mine. In that moment, more than ever, I became acutely aware of the challenges of being a later in life mother with a young child and senior father.

G-d bless my dad. He's 93. My son is 8. I'm 51. Not the easiest of ages for any of us.

Despite the stroke, at 93, my dad hasn't for a long time felt as he'd like to. I've long tried to explain to him that I doubt anyone at 90+ feels as they'd like to, but that's never been comforting to him.

At 51, I'm in the throes of peri-menopause, and that's enough to wreak havoc on anyone.

My son, at 8, isn't little anymore but isn't grown either. He yearns to exude independence yet waivers at moments like bedtime when he asks his dad to lay with him as he falls asleep. I don't want him to grow up too quickly...though we are all aging as the clock ticks rapidly away.

Living in the moment is so key, and that's particularly evident in hindsight.

It took just seconds for my dad to lose much of his long term memory and suffer major language challenges. As bad as it is, it could have been SO much worse, and I'm grateful he didn't go down the path of major physical disability.

He'll get speech therapy, and even if his communication remains compromised, he can live a quality life. He may no longer be able to share the stories of days gone by that engaged so many. He loved to talk about growing up with famed (now deceased) ballplayer Phil Rizutto, and proudly wore a t-shirt I made up for his 90th birthday saying I PLAYED BALL WITH PHIL RIZUTTO. It was a great conversation opener when he wore it to his local pool club or on our annual family vacation to Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz. Now having a conversation for my father isn't second nature.

My dad, despite his many surgeries over the years, was somewhat of a medical marvel. When he'd meet with a doctor and they asked his health history, he could describe in copious detail what surgery he had, when and where, with exact precision. Even I can't do that. I never could. But, it came with ease to my dad. Those days are over.

When he first stroked he was calling everybody Robin. It struck me as curious. At our initial meeting with the neurologist, I was in a room full of Robins...only they were my sister Barbara and Brother-in-Law Terry. I had to identify myself to the doctor as the "real" Robin." It would have been comical if the situation weren't so serious.

Seth, my son, has been a trooper. He, too, became Robin, during a visit with grandpa. He's been my tower of strength, in addition to my husband, and close friends. Seth has always had an innate sensibility and awareness of knowing how to reach out to people when they need it the most. And, he manages to do it with a maturity beyond his years. After my first visit with my dad following the stroke, I put on a brave face in his house, assisting him and his aide, but once Seth and I stepped outside and walked back to the car, I lost it.. I needed to cry, and a flood of tears consumed me. In that moment, Seth reached out and assured me that grandpa would be ok....that everything would be ok...and I believe he believed it. I was so touched by his depth of compassion and ability to put aside whatever he felt to be present for me.

I am so grateful for Seth. He touches my heart in a way I never knew a child could. And, I'm so glad he's cultivated a relationship with my father that hopefully will live on forever.

My beloved mother passed away over 10 years ago due to complications from a major stroke, and it was a tragic death in a sterile hospital room. We weren't by her bedside at the time. She was all alone. A stroke is something I've always found so unbelievably cruel. Not that cancer isn't. But, a stroke is immediately life-altering, and it's just a question of to what extent.

I'm hopeful that my dad's situation will improve over time, and that G-d willing there won't be any repeat episodes, due to preventative medication measures. I treasure having my father in my life, and the last thing I want is for him to suffer greatly. No one deserves that, and certainly not a man who has done his best to be a caring father all these years. As a parent, no one is perfect, and I recognize that. But, he's my dad...the only dad I'll ever have....and he'll always have a place in my heart....even if I'm not the only Robin to him.

GUEST BLOG POST: The Later Mom Paradox: Grateful To Have Kids, But...by Holly Sklar

Because of the way I became a mom later in life – via IVF after several miscarriages – I count myself lucky to have kids at all. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a deeper longing than the one I had to be a parent. After each setback my husband and I experienced in our quest for kids, I became more determined to create a family, somehow or other. Had my IVF not been successful, I probably would have gone down the road to adoption. I would have been full of gratitude to have gotten one healthy child, but I wound up with twins, a boy and a girl. I often say I hit the jackpot. Despite the grief and pain along the way, the wait was worth it.

I might have had children earlier in life, but I didn’t start dating my husband until my thirty-fifth birthday. We moved in together about a year later, and by the time we got engaged, planned a wedding, actually got hitched, went on a honeymoon, and decided we were ready to try to start a family, I was just shy of 38. My only successful pregnancy began three years later, and I’d hit forty-one by the day I gave birth.

All this preamble to parenthood made me appreciate finally getting there in a different way than I might have if I’d done so earlier in life. So does having lost both of my parents before my children arrived. One of the unfortunate circumstances that sometimes comes with being a Later Mom is that sharing the kids with your own parents may not happen. A lot of my Later Mom friends have lost one parent; very few have lost both. My kids only have one set of grandparents – my in-laws. I’ve made sure to foster a close bond between my kids and the grandparents they do have. I’m grateful for my in-laws, and at the same time, wistful about what my kids are missing, as well as what my parents missed.

Not having my parents around has made me a somewhat different parent than I might have been otherwise. I feel an obligation to do the sorts of things with my kids that my parents did with my brother and me. Some of those are big things, like taking them to Muir Woods last Thanksgiving to instill an appreciation of nature and the grandeur of something bigger, older, and longer-lasting than ourselves. Some of them are smaller, like taking them out for Chinese food in downtown L.A. because my parents took my brother and I to Chinese restaurants every Sunday night on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Like my mom, I take the kids to museums and street fairs and cultural festivals; I take them to baseball games because that was something I shared with my dad. I savor this stuff, I notice it as it happens; on these excursions, I try hard to be in the moment, because I’m overly aware that the moments don’t last.

And even though my gratitude at getting to be a parent is great, I resent the loss of personal time I've experienced since becoming a parent. I had a life before I had kids. I was more wrapped up in my career, and tried to do some very ambitious things (e.g., I wrote, sold and had optioned several screenplays, but have no time for that now). I traveled more for pleasure. I would meet friends across town to hear live music, try a new restaurant, go on a hike or a bike ride. And I’d often do so on the spur of the moment. I tried cooking new recipes for myself and my husband on a regular basis; it was a fun and tasty hobby. My husband and I didn’t have to make official date nights; we just went out. We splurged on theater tickets or concerts at the Hollywood Bowl. We stayed out later. We hosted parties and barbecues at home for friends. We also gave each other space to read books, write creatively, just go out for a walk. We had a great sense of our potential: the world was before us. And when we needed quiet, we could find it at home. Down time, time alone – we had it more than we knew.

Now, well, you know the drill. We’re lucky to manage a couple of date nights a month, when we can get a sitter. We drop way more money on those dates because we’re paying for the sitter. It’s only quiet at home when the kids are asleep, and we’re too damn tired, between work and parenting, to do much creative even when there is quiet. We cook mostly what the kids will eat – they’re picky – instead of new, adventurous dishes. I rarely meet a friend for a hike, and it often takes a dozen emails between us to coordinate. Forget biking: my bike’s tires have been flat since the kids were born. Live music or theater requires a big commitment, and even if we make it, there’s no guarantee we won’t have to sell those Springsteen tickets because someone has inconveniently come down with stomach flu. I don’t know what down time is: there’s always something to do for the kids or around the house in the rare moments when I’m not working or sleeping. As for time alone -- what’s that?

Even though my kids don’t conspire to deprive me of all the things I miss about my pre-kids life, the fact is, their very existence means I don’t get to do many of those things – at least not while my kids are still small. I know I shouldn’t resent them. It’s contradictory: I just wrote here about why I’m so grateful for them, and how much I appreciate having them at all. But there it is. I am not just grateful mom, I’m also cranky, pissed off mom, because mom has to “do” for everyone else, and has little to no time to do anything for mom.

Maybe all moms, Later Moms or not, feel this strange combination of gratitude and resentment at times. But Later Moms sure know what we’re missing, having been childless longer. I know the solution is a little more me time. What parenting expert doesn’t recommend that? They all say you’ll be a better parent if you get some time to yourself. But they never say how you’re supposed to get it.

I’ll never regret having had kids. I adore them when they’re not being impossible, and I’m willing to put up with them when they are. They fact that they’re even here is nothing short of a biological miracle. My appreciation of them ultimately outweighs my resentment. But I also understand why, in last year’s movie DATE NIGHT, the Tina Fey character described her ideal fantasy as being alone in a quiet hotel room with a magazine and a Fresca. Right on.

Holly Sklar married at 37, got pregnant with twins at 40, and thus became a late-blooming mom. A movie studio story analyst , she attempts to work, nurture the kids and the marriage, and writes in the cracks in between. She is a member of the Los Angeles chapter of Motherhood Later and blogs at www.latebloomingmom.com.

Rockin' Hormones by Robin Gorman Newman

Can you be a rockin' later mom when your hormones are rockin'?

I feel like I'm seriously being tested in that department of late.

At the risk of getting overly personal, my menstrual cycle this month is seemingly never-ending.  Just when I think it's stopping, it kicks in again. I've experienced this before, but this time, I'm really feeling the effects.  Odd in the head.  Bouts of fatigue.  Tearfulness.  Restless sleeping.

I have a call into my integrative doctor to explore full bloodwork, including hormone testing.  It's been a few years since I've had them checked. 

I know I'm in perimenopause, but I have found that with every decade, things change, and it can be hard to keep up.  When I turned 40, I felt different.  And, now that I'm 50, and actually today is my half birthday, so 50.5, I don't totally know myself.

It's frustrating.  I've been pouring through classic books by Dr. John R. Lee and Dr. Christiane Northrup, both of whom I hugely respect.  I've always been a fan of natural supplements.  But, this hormone stuff is complicated. And, a little part of me is wondering if it is hormones, or something I else?!......(I'm good at getting myself nervous.)

I've always been inclined to let the body do what is natural, and presume things will take their course and hopefully all settle down. But, if it were that easy, then why is there always so much controversial talk about hormone replacement?

Celebs like Suzanne Somers have written on the subject and taken strong stands. And, seem to be making a living off the subject.  Hormones are big business!

I know there's no one way to go.  And, I'm curious to see what my holistic MD in NYC (Dr. Fred Pescatore, who has written for our MotherhoodLater.com Baby Bloomer newsletter) has to say.  I totally trust him.I'm not looking for hormone replacement.  I just want to feel good again.  It's that simple, yet nothing is simple about it.

Knowing that my hormones can also make me somewhat emotionally unbalanced as well as physically, I have to work extra hard to have patience with my son and things in general.  At times like this, being a later in life mom with a young child can be particularly challenging.

I have friends who are already in menopause, and they have shared their experiences.  But, it's different for everyone.  And, my beloved mom has passed away, so I don't have her to discuss it with.  My sister, who is two years younger than me, is already done with her menstrual cycle.  So, no point in comparing myself to her.

I don't want to sound like a broken record with my husband either.  When he calls me from work to check in and asks how things are, I yearn to say great.  But, it's not how I feel.  And, he knows I'm frustrated. 
The other night, Piers Morgan, who took over the slot vacated recently by Larry King on CNN, had on four former television stars.  Linda Evans.  Angie Dickinson.  Stefanie Powers.  And  Nichelle Nichols (of Star Trek fame).  Each was a bombshell in her heyday, and is now in the aged actress arena.  They were talking about having carved careers for themselves where beauty played a role, and what it's like to look in the mirror today.  It felt painful to me.  While they put on brave, unflinching (potentially botoxed, etc.) faces, I had to imagine it can't be easy.

It all comes down to one of my favorite expressions..."it's not easy being a woman," and add aging to that.

All the more reason that us later moms have to stick together.  Share. Laugh. Offer support.  Discuss your hormones.  Let it all hang out. We"get" it.

Are you in perimenopause?  How does it make you feel, and do you do anything about it?

If you're in menopause, did you find the transition challenging?