More than a few blog posts have been writ regarding new moms seeking mom friends–one instance you can read about here. Below is a tish of my trial/triumph thus far on the matter.
Oh, how I tried.
I tried and tried and tried some more. Zumba classes, coffee shops, play dates, and motherly book clubs.
Alas, the mother-women I hoped to befriend were habitually so much more than me. More religious. More sentimental. More involved. More matchy-matchy. More sanitary. More put together and tied with bows. Maybe even more maternal.
I have been where you are, you new lonesome momma dove. I’ve sat in your recliner, waiting on a text from a potential mom date, realizing only too far in that we are much too different, and that I just wasted an invaluable free hour–one that does not come without a palpable amount of guilt from one of my family members who do not understand why I seek outside conversation, why I crave to connect with others outside of my shoebox of a house.
That guilt of wanting to be away from my babe for a spare moment coupled with the continuous change of plans from other hectic and hard-working moms left me feeling more isolated than before. It was then that I fully recognized just how alone I had been since my son was earthside–two years, at that point. During this time, a mother of three conveyed that we weren’t as similar as I thought. Over coffee, she told me that my life bringing up one babe was a far cry from hers–her brood stretched to three. While sweating in a gym class, another mother of three expressed similar sentiments of me having ample time where she (obviously) had more responsibilities. Those comments lingered in my throat, and grew with every bit of morsel I ate, every drink of water nourishing me as I drowned in this cavern of defining my new existence with babe in tow.
And so I stopped. I stopped smiling so openly at the gym. I stopped starting conversations with women changing their babe’s diapers next to me in busy bathrooms. I stopped scanning facebook meetups.
And I just accepted the little fact that I am my own desert. I channeled my energy into my blog, into creating meat-filled entrees for Husband, who works night shift, and back into nursing my son in every way possible. Somehow, I managed to get back to myself, by myself. When I ceased searching for like-minded friends, I found this peace residing inside of me that had been there all along. A self-preservation of sorts.
In March of this year, a month after my babe’s second birthday, I stumbled into a fellow yogini gal, and began conversing. I had always known she was a superb red-headed beaut of a human, but I had not sought her out. For she is full from life where I am full from nurturing other’s lives. But somehow a friendship was born, and soon I was talking and making plans and happy memories with her and her comrades–a loverly bunch of good people all residing in my tiny town. Hark, I say! How had I not known of their existence? How had I not realized that common ground can be struck regardless of the number of babes, the number of wedding bands? Perhaps because I was too busy forging forced friendships with women who may never share similar views as my little peephole out into the universe.
What may be most interesting to you, moms seeking mom friends, is that I now have a fellow momma friend within this circle of friends that is just plain rad and thoughtful and strong–all of the things I originally sought out in other mothers.
And so, I urge you to remember that while you are out there seeking hydration of any form, that it is all situational. People get married. People get divorced. People become mothers while people lose lovers. People are as old as they feel and as young as they choose. Closing up shop on any sort of demographic is not wise. In seeking friendships, it should not come down to how many babes one has or has not. True friends are true because they provide the outlet you seek–whether it is a break from talking spit-up and nappy time, or attending an off-broadway you have longed to see for eons.
Fellow mommas, I say to you most sincerely: stop looking. For your tribe already exists and will find you in due time. I know the in-between time is full of cotton billowing on your clothes line, blurring how you wish to define yourself, inevitably leaving you most lonesome in ill-fitted post-baby garb. But it will pass. And you will appreciate your tribe all the more for it.