There are some days and some weeks when I truly, truly mourn my old life. I mourn the freedom I once had as a childless individual. The freedom of sleeping in until 10am on a Saturday, eating some breakfast and then beaching it for the rest of the afternoon. The freedom of going to Target with my whole brain functioning and focusing on why I'm there instead of trying to keep a child content and rushing through the store to avoid any potential meltdowns. The freedom to go workout a few days a week. Shit, even the freedom of nurturing my marriage by spending an entire day together without watching Yo Gabba Gabba or changing a diaper. The freedom of living guilt free because even if I drop Lily off somewhere to do something for myself for an hour or so means feeling guilt. Just, missing freedom.

This past week was one of those weeks.

There wasn't anything specifically horrible about this past week, aside from Lily's first ever adult food vomiting experience, which, albeit awful (if you know me at all you know I have a weird phobia of vomiting), was not enough in it of itself to evoke these feelings. I just go through this sometimes.

I often wonder if it's because I had a child in my 30's instead of my 20's. Maybe I was just more set in my ways because I was older? Maybe it has nothing to do with that and more to do with the fact that I'm a spoiled only child that only had to ever worry about myself and my dog? I'm not sure, but I'm just being honest here, I miss my pre-child life once in awhile.

No one told me that I might feel this way. I don't feel guilt over these feelings anymore because I have accepted them as being normal. I might have even shared these exact emotions before and I'm repeating myself, but so be it. It feels good to be honest and get it off my chest right now.