When BC was 2 weeks old my husband went back to work (thanks to our country's lack of any sort of maternal or paternal paid leave) and I was alone in the house with my son. He was so tiny and fragile seeming. And I didn't know what to do. I had to figure many things out. I had to figure him out, of course (that is an ongoing task, as it turns out), but I also had to figure out the more practical things like how to make myself lunch, eat, and wash dishes with one hand. I remember vividly that time period, especially the first time I had to take BC for an appointment by myself.
He had a chiropractor appointment. He had already had a couple of them and had been to my uncle's birthday party, but those three trips were with my husband. He drove and I sat in the backseat of our car with this tiny person who I just knew I had to watch lest he should stop breathing while in the car. This trip, however, that was no longer an option because I would have to be driving. My son would be sitting in the backseat by himself. What if he cried? What if he screamed? What if I forgot the diaper bag, or some critical component of its contents at home? What if he stopped breathing? What if I got into an accident? Or had a flat tire? Or couldn't get the heat to work or ran a red light and was pulled over and he started screaming because the car wasn't moving and so I had to get out of the car to get him out and the police officer thought I was being hostile and I was arrested and... You get the point.
I tried to put on a brave face as my husband went to work. He asked me if he should call in and come with me. "No," I said. "I'm going to have to do this by myself all the time, eventually. Better get on with it." So he left. Because I told him to. As I was getting ready for the trip, gathering, checking, then rechecking diaper bag supplies, my friend SM called "just to say hi. See how you're feeling." "I'm fine. I'm good." I lied. "I'm taking BC to an appointment today. By myself." "Ooohh," she said, knowingly. "Do you want me to come with you?"
SM had her first child 4 months before I had mine. So she knew. She knew. Becoming a mother is an experience likened to many things but, for my part, no comparison has quite hit the mark. The trendy phrase "all the feelings" comes close. Maybe "all the feelings through a magnifying glass." is closer still. It messes with your head in many ways. It changes your soul in one profound way. Everything is new. And that newness is scary. And as I held my fear in close, as I tried to not give in to it, I did not realize I was holding onto this insane notion that I should have been able to do it by myself. That I was this baby's Mama so I needed to just be able to be with him, to take care of him, to do everything for him, and be his everything by myself. I shouldn't have. That's not it. We are made for villages, not silos. We are made for community, and fellowship, and wisdom passed down through generations upon generations. We are made for more than being by ourselves.
"That would be great." I told her. We worked out the details and hung up the phones and I burst into tears. I felt such relief. I felt such vulnerability. I felt seen. And I was. Because she knew. I've never fully thanked SM. So here it is. SM, if you're reading this, thank you. Thank you for being in my village that day, and for so many days since then. I will forever be grateful for your presence in my life.
And to my friend MA, as the days of your pregnancy wind down and you anxiously await the arrival of your baby, I wish for you a village. And that you never feel the need to do it by yourself. I'll be first in line to join your village.
Happy Mother's Day.
~M
