There is a saying that "life begins at 40." It is also when life begins to show. Bette Davis said, "Getting old ain't for sissies," and she is right on. This is my third time getting old.
The first time I got old was when I was in my late 20s, when I landed a coveted job as a VJ on MTV. Most of the viewers were in high school and my coworkers were recent college graduates. I know I got hired because I had a few extra years of experience. I was a recreational therapist at a nursing home. Dealing with the elderly residents, many of whom had a one-inch attention span from Alzheimer's, prepared me for the ADD of the MTV audience. I often felt like mutton dressed as a lamb, but it was a blast.
The second time I got old, it wasn't nearly as much fun. In my early 30s, I got sick and was diagnosed with a rare disease in one of its rarest forms, sarcoidosis of the central nervous system. I had been hardworking and focused on my career and—boom!—I had to stop work and devote myself to getting better. It was like I had been building an airplane by hand, and when I was finally ready to take it for a flight, I had to lock it up in the hangar.
It took several years of chemo treatments and long hospital visits to get better. Getting sick isn't for sissies, either. There is a long list of indignities you face during a serious illness, like losing your hair, blowing up on steroids, and the possible side effect of early menopause. These are just the side effects of the treatment; the disease itself was no picnic, either. I had to mourn for the old life I had and figure out how to best play the cards I had been dealt. I felt like I had a very early midlife crisis.
Now I am old for the third time, and this time it is for real. No matter how great Demi Moore looks, your 40s are the youth of old age. My health has stabilized, and through miraculous medical triumphs, I am the mother of a smart, funny, and beautiful 5-year-old boy.
When he starts kindergarten in the fall, I will be the oldest mom in his class. I was 41 when he was born. My friends teased me that I could shop for his diapers and check out the Depends for myself. And when my son started teething, my wisdom teeth erupted. We shared some long nights, Ambesol for him, Maker's Mark for me. I guess that no matter how old I am I will always be a late bloomer.
Elizabeth Adeney just became Britain's oldest new mother when she gave birth at age 66. And she will be 71 when her kid starts kindergarten. Maybe we late bloomers are just the people who never give up trying for what we really want out of life.
