Subtitled: How I learned to embrace my inner pee-sneezer
Some time back, I was talking about age with some friends. Actually, the discussion has come up quite a bit lately in various circles. As it often does, the conversation turned the past and what age we’d return to, if we could. Teen years (yeah, no one wanted to return there). The college years and the 20s — those were the ones most people felt the most nostalgic for.
Me? I wouldn’t change a thing. I would be right where I am: creeping closer and closer to 40 with every key stroke. Other than eighth grade (I’d just as soon forget that year, thankyouverymuch) and a portion of my freshman year of college, I feel like every age I’ve ever been has been my favorite — and they just keep getting better.
While there are a few things I look back on and think “hmm, maybe I’d do things differently if I knew then what I know now,” none are true regrets. I truly, utterly and firmly believe that every step I’ve taken and every decision I’ve made have brought me to the life I have now. To my Mr. B. To my kids. To my home.
may be is grayer, and my face may have definitely has more wrinkles. But neither of those things bother me. In fact, I embrace them and I celebrate them. Every gray hair has been earned. Cliché as it may be, my wrinkles remind me of everything I’ve experienced — every smile, every tear, every laugh and every thought.
I wholeheartedly welcome every single gray hair and every single wrinkle. I’m even OK with some of the aches and pains that have found my joints in the mornings or after a long car ride. But, if I’m being honest — and I promised I’d always be honest — there is one part of getting older that I’m not ready to embrace.
After each of my three pregnancies, the inability to sneeze or laugh or cough or jump without needing to rush to the bathroom has gotten worse. And worse. And worse. I mean, I’d heard women joke about this before. But you. have. got. to. be. kidding. me. I had no idea how bad it could be.
Recently, I had a nasty cold that came with an even nastier cough. And, for the first time ever, I found myself staring down the aisle of incontinence products wondering what had become of my body and its ability to control itself. On the upside, there are a lot of options available out there for us pee-sneezers.
Now, to be fair, this isn’t just an age issue — some of it is attributed to the three gorgeous children I carried and birthed (#blessed). Apparently nothing does a bladder good quite like giving birth to three kids within three years, two of whom weighed almost 10 pounds. And, if I had to choose either bladder control or my three kiddos, I’d choose the kiddos in a heartbeat every single time.
So, I guess that brings us back to my original point — pee-sneezing aside: I like the age I am; I welcome every passing minute because each one fills my life with something new, gives me something I didn’t have before.
My hair’s grayer. My skin’s wrinklier. My body’s sorer. My britches are wetter. And, you know what, I couldn’t be happier.