By Heather Pemberton Levy
Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You, too? Thought I was the only one."
~C.S. Lewis
My first child, Charlie, was born in January. The winter months in Connecticut may seem a cozy time to snuggle up with your new infant, but for me they also meant long, isolating days at home. I was accustomed to working in an office all day, bantering with adults in meetings, and challenging my mind. Not so staying at home with my sweet little son. I loved him dearly and cherished our uninterrupted maternity leave together. But I was lonely.
My husband, David, and I had moved to our small, woodsy town a year earlier. With both of us working full-time, we hadn't met many other couples, let alone new moms. While I had grown up in the same town, only one old friend of mine had moved back as well and she had older kids. After a few months, I turned to Carrie for advice.
"How do I meet other moms with babies?" I asked her.
Carrie suggested I join the local Newcomers and Neighbors Club, which sponsored playgroups for mothers and their children. Because I had grown up in my town, I hadn't thought to seek out a club for "newcomers." Good idea.
Charlie and I joined the "up to twelve months" playgroup. One morning, I arrived carrying Charlie in his infant carrier. All of the other children were crawling around, mashing toys together and starting to sit up. I put him down in a corner and rolled up my sleeves to settle in with the other moms. It wasn't that easy.
The mothers in the group were welcoming but had been gathering for several months and had already bonded. I felt mismatched and awkward. I was perfectly comfortable entering a conference room and meeting new colleagues. I knew the agenda, who worked where and for whom, and how we all fit together. Entering a parenting group was like starting a whole new career right out of college. I was unsure how I fit in and had nothing more in common with the other women than motherhood and geography. They chatted easily about their kids' sleep habits and spit up, their sore nipples, and whether anyone knew a good electrician. I was more comfortable discussing strategic planning, product development, and internal politics. In truth, I was struggling to craft my social identity as a mother after years of being a full-time professional. My unease continued and I kindly bowed out of the group.
Adding to my identity struggle was my decision to return to work part-time. I'd always dreamed that when I had a child, I would stop working full-time and find a way to craft a three-day-a-week job. I was thankful that my company agreed, but torn every day I left Charlie in the arms of his sweet Colombian nanny. I lugged my breast pump to the office and booked conference rooms for regular intervals throughout the day. I'd close the blinds, lock the door, and pump milk for Charlie while checking e-mail or calling David to chat.
On the days I worked, I'd race home and find Charlie already asleep in his crib. I was blessed with an infant son who slept from 6:00 P.M. to 6:00 A.M., but my heart was broken a little bit each time I missed his nightly bath or singing him to sleep. I craved more time with him and after nine months decided to leave my job altogether. David and I planned our budget to allow me to stay home and I was relieved to put my pump away and settle in to full-time motherhood.
That January, a year after Charlie was born, I faced five days a week at home for the first time. Snow piled up in our yard as I did load after load of laundry. One morning I stood at the kitchen sink, weeping over the prospect of another daily routine of diaper changing, housecleaning, and quiet. Charlie blessed me with his giggles and grins but he didn't say, "Hey, Mom, thanks for the clean diaper. Thanks for giving me some tummy time!"
Every Thursday, I drove forty-five minutes to a music class we'd joined with a new friend, Meghan, and her daughter, Josie. It was the highlight of my week. While our babies wiggled and wailed to the music, Meghan, the other moms and I talked about our children's development and quirks. I was getting the hang of this mommy role. Soon spring arrived, class ended and Meghan and her family relocated to the West Coast.
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I decided I'd better get busy. Remembering how confidently Meghan had reached out to meet me one night at a girlfriend's spaghetti dinner, I realized I would need to make the effort to meet new friends. But meeting mommies was new territory for me. I was perfectly comfortable meeting people at work, but how should I start up a conversation with a stroller-pushing stranger?
Plus, I was beginning to realize that a strong network of moms was not only crucial for my mental happiness but also critical to my success in the mommy job. Other moms had all the tried and true advice about what car seat to choose, where to get a first haircut, how to introduce solids, and what really worked for putting their kids to sleep. Without their input and listening ears, I'd be adrift in the sea of tough choices on how to raise Charlie.
So one day, while shopping for a vacation to St. Thomas, I wandered into a shoe store while Charlie was at home with a babysitter. As I tried on sandals for the trip, I watched out of the corner of my eye as a woman around my age, with a son around Charlie's age, tried on shoes as well. When she gave the cashier an address near mine, I made my move.
"Hi, how old's your son?" I asked. (A safe way to make small talk. Like commenting on a cute guy's dog in the park.)
"Fifteen months," she replied.
We soon learned that our sons were born three weeks apart and that she had also just left her job. She was shopping for a trip to the Caribbean as well. After returning from our trips, Candace and I became fast friends and our sons are best friends to this day.
Shortly thereafter, I re-joined Newcomers and Neighbors and found a new playgroup for one-year-olds. This time, I instantly clicked with the group and invited Candace to join as well. Charlie developed a group of friends and I found a network of moms.
When my daughter was born, I started a new playgroup. Soon, we had a boisterous group of toddlers and babies and mommies. We trade stories and tips and are only a phone call away should one of us need a helping hand. "You wanna talk about nursing and poop?" I say, "I'm all for it."
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