On building a village

Raising a baby with all the help I can get

My husband is away this week. I watched him drive away early Monday morning, looking down the street until I couldn’t see his car anymore.

There goes my heart, I thought.

I felt slightly sick to my stomach after he left, a mix of nerves and sadness. The quiet in the house was deafening. I ate my oatmeal and listened to the steady breaths of my sleeping baby strapped to my chest and took stock of the week ahead: the babysitter this morning, then Shelby and Isla, and Carolyn tonight. Tomorrow I’ll go to Hannah’s and my mom will come to spend the night, and maybe on Wednesday I’ll take the baby to the gym and leave him at Child Watch before my call with Rose. Or ask that new mom I met yesterday to come over. Or both. On Thursday Theresa will bring her four kids in the morning, then Laura in the afternoon, and Linsey and Shane’s for dinner. Friday is playgroup and then he’ll be home—thank God.

I’ve been a mom for just shy of four months, and I don’t know much, but I do know this: I need all the help I can get. I don’t remember when the switch flipped, but flip it most certainly did—in those early weeks with a newborn, I was in full hibernation mode, not even opening the curtains some days. Now, with my husband away, I’d like to fill every inch of the day with plans and company. And the fact that now I can (or almost can) is a minor miracle, I think, given where I began.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. But what if you don’t have a village? What then? I moved here when we got married just over a year ago, knowing no one but my husband and his (now our) elderly next door neighbors who welcomed me with open arms. It’s hard to remember exactly how I got to this point, with dozens of names I could rattle off if you were to ask me about the people—mostly moms—I’ve met.

Actually, I do remember. Or at least I can point to one main reason, one invaluable source of community. I found a name and email address on a book club website, and I took my chances. I was wondering if you'd be up for meeting sometime this summer? I wrote. It hasn't been easy to find community since moving here so I am always looking for ways to meet people. I got a kind response the next day. I do have a book club, but we’re all old! You should meet my daughter instead. I connected with her, Cate, and it was if a door to a new world opened before me. She and her husband took my husband and me under their wing, inviting us to dinner and me to a homeschool playgroup. I showed up to that first playgroup a little sheepishly, my newborn baby nestled in his carseat, no kids in tow who could actually join in on playing. But again I was welcomed with open arms, by kind, smiling moms who were happy to see a new face in the group.

Cate continued to invite me to the playgroup, and to her house. You can invite yourself over anytime, she urged. Will you take me up on that? I assured her I would. When our husbands started working out together every Friday after work, she offered a standing invitation to join her and her girls while the men exercised. Once when I was feeling overwhelmed, I reached out and asked Cate for advice. Two days later, we sat in her backyard while her girls romped around their sprawling property and Cate shelled out pearls of veteran mom wisdom. My original question morphed into a dozen others and I relaxed into the easy give and take of conversation as I shared my struggles and joys and received hers. Suddenly, I felt a little less alone.

Yes, meeting and befriending Cate has opened a new door, a new world, to me. Yet a village doesn’t grow overnight. Even hopping into a preexisting one, someone else’s, isn’t a cure-all for low points or lonely days. And it’s this week of solo parenting that has helped me to see just how much I need to continue to work at this village-building endeavor. I have my part to play, and the need to cultivate community and deepen friendships doesn’t ever end, I don’t think. I’m still so new at it, and still I face plenty of stops and starts as I try to make my way along. Still I can feel insecure or unsure or out of my element. Still I get lonely. What’s a mom to do?

Be the Cate you wish to see in the world.

I’m making that my motto. I’m making the first move, leaving my comfort zone, becoming vulnerable. I’m inviting people over to my house or inviting myself over to theirs. I’m asking for numbers at parties and saying yes to invitations. I’m taking walks and showing off my baby to my gardening neighbor. I’m researching storytime and music class. I’m hiring a babysitter for a couple of hours so I can go to the library or sit in a coffee shop or write a post or pray. I’m asking my retired neighbor to come over and hold the baby. I’m FaceTiming friends across the country (or ocean—hi, Natasha!) and scheduling calls after bedtime. It takes effort, and sometimes I don’t feel like it, but I never regret it.

But even with all that…I still feel alone sometimes. I wake up some mornings with nary a plan or ounce of energy to do anything about it. Sometimes I watch the minutes tick by, counting down to 5:00 when my husband will come up from his office and rescue me from my loneliness. Some days the baby is out of sorts or plans fall through or the heavens have opened and we can’t step foot outside. What then?

I’m still working on that one. I think maybe I just have to be lonely. I think I need to sit in the ache and point my heart to God. To be alone with the Alone. To wait until it passes but resist the urge to wish time away. I’m only four months in and I don’t have all the answers. Does anyone?

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How about you? Do you have a village? If so, how did you build it? If not, how can you start?