By Julie Petry, MFA
I stepped into my fifties this year and am proud of my body. Through time, I have asked a lot of it. Be it walking, dancing, gardening, swimming, voraciously cleaning house, or sitting still in meditation, my body has always been there as a trusted sacred space inviting me to connect. I love movement and bodies in motion—so much so, I made a career of it. I have been a professor of theatre and dance for the last twenty years and am proud to know my spine inside and out. I have spent my life taking conscious care of my vessel and educating others on how to do the same. I earnestly require my students to make their cell phones disappear in order to replace that sneaky addiction with an opportunity to sense an embodied body. And yet, despite all this care and wisdom I possessed and professed, time is real. And time had lessons in store for me.
I became pregnant at age 48. Something not many folks would want to attempt for good reason. I am in excellent shape, but nevertheless this experience of motherhood has kicked my butt. It wasn’t the pregnancy either; I taught classes such as ballet and jazz all the way through the month before delivery. It wasn’t even the birth, though that was its own special ball of recovery. What I hadn’t planned for was the continuous lack of sleep and how it would impact me. I figured I would have some rough nights with the baby, but I never imagined I would end up going a full 14 months before getting more than three hours of sleep in a row. Even now, as I sit typing this, I am blurry-eyed as I’ve spent the last three nights having been constantly awakened by my precious teething 17-month-old daughter trying to find her mama bear while thrashing around in the covers. Yes…I am a co-sleeper. Other parents might argue I brought this on myself, and they could be right, but I know what feels right for our unique connection, and it calls for the age-old practice of family bodies sleeping nearby. Our mattress lies on the floor so she may safely exit, while my back cries out for a visit to my favorite massage therapist. Yes…I hadn’t planned for any of this while I continued to age, and my body is wiped out.
I also failed to plan for the constant bending over, extensive picking up of toys, carrying her as she approaches 23 pounds, carrying her heavy go-bags, cleaning up her messy meals so often it doubles the loads of laundry to be carried up multiple flights of stairs, and barely having a moment to regroup. I failed to predict how hard it would be to breathe, shower, or find some precious alone time. As an extroverted introvert, I desperately need alone time to go out into the world every day. Thankfully, a local day care eventually came to the rescue on that one, accepting her at age one, which gave me a few precious hours of alone time each day. But the tending is still a lot to manage for a body entering Act II, even with some extra help.
So…what have I learned? That even at age 50, a body expert can be schooled on the body. Our bodies evolve. They demand and get tired. We must listen. My body wants gentleness, calm, and peace now. My body wants alone time, help, and attention from healing therapists. So, I have paid dearly for sitters I trust in order to find more of what I need. I must keep trying to offer my body what it needs. It’s the only home I will have for life, after all, and I hope to see my daughter turn 50 herself. So, ask yourself…what do you need? Your body is talking to you.
Julie Petry is a practicing professor of theatre and dance. She is a native of the beautiful Pacific Northwest, mother to Georgie, author of the children’s book How To Feel Good When You Wish That You Could, and currently lives in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, U.S.A.