Does this all sound familiar?
I have been a baby ever since I wasn't a baby any more. As soon as my parents told me that I couldn't act like a baby any more I knew they were wrong. Surely they thought I was potty trained and such, but I would spend hours in the attic doing dress up in more than just moms things. I loved putting on diapers and just being a baby.
At eleven years old my mom caught me. She was never one for being comfortable with things that weren't clearly defined by the protestant church. Her prepubescent daughter padding around in cloth diapers of the previous decade was not something her minister would have an answer for. It was immediately preached to me that I was not a baby any more, this was sick, not for me, and by the way I was grounded. It would have been so much nicer if she had just pulled my diapers down and spanked me. Of course I don't think she would have had any intention to pull them back up. The next day my world of baby things boxes in the attic were gone.
I admit I was frightened, angry, and confused. I sucked my thumb for another year or so. They couldn't take that away from me, although my blankie mysteriously kept getting smaller. I got even though, I was a raging hormone mad girl. It had to be the toughest three years of their raising me. No matter what they were wrong, even when they were right.
I kept that longing of being a baby suppressed for a long long time. I would be transfixed while reading about diaper fetishes, but never able to get past the ingrained guilt. It wasn't until ten years ago or so that I actually allowed myself to try on a disposable. It was if someone had flipped a switch. I felt so calm, complacent, and comfortable. I started 'doing the research' to find an incredible AB/DL community, it was huge, who knew! I loved what I found. I wore diapers for thirty days straight. I kept denying that I was a baby, yet I would pick up toys, baby bottles, sippy cups and pacis when I was out shopping.
Then guess what? A dysfunctional relationship. First I heard that it was ok, and then that it was sick and how did I ever become this way. I felt all the guilt I did while listening to my mom chiding me at eleven. Now I'm divorced.
For those who have gone through a nasty bitter divorce you know what it's like to be beaten up in every horrific manner shape or form. I have never felt less in control than I have over the past few years going through this. The emotional abuse in the marriage was one thing, but the bitterness in the divorce was awful. I finally gave in like many others do. Maybe it's a gender thing, but I lived in tears for so long I had to give up almost everything just to keep my sanity.
The dust has finally settled, almost, in that saga. Now I'm living alone, with less fear, I've moved my work home, and have finally confessed to myself that I'm a baby through and through. I'm attempting to live as Baby Lizzy full time. It's not just about the diapers, but also the clothes, actions, and lifestyle, all mix together to create the new me. Life is far to short to continue living without embracing and loving myself.
Do I have a Daddy or a Mommy? No, not in the truest sense of having someone there all the time. I'm learning from several wonderful people who have given me great advice. I really value all the guidance I've been given thus far from babies, mommies, daddies, and diaper lovers too.
Am I a good baby? No not yet. I have so much to learn. I lived in denial until just a couple of weeks ago. I never allowed myself the mind space to watch how babies walk, talk, eat, or just plain be themselves. Did I mention that I was medically never able to be a mommy. I couldn't have children. That's another whole story, but no matter what I couldn't get pregnant.
So here I am today in my cloth diapers, little white socks, pig tails, a pretty baby dress, diaper cover, and a huge smile. I'm barely two weeks old and welcome any help, suggestions, love, and care. I'm going to grow up very very slowly for the rest of my life.