kiwords

Earlier this week I was chatting with a young mom. I got to hold her beautifully squishy six month old daughter while we talked, and I swear the smell of that baby’s head was taking all my taut baby-not-making resolve and causing it to unspool in my heart. How do you people DO it out there? You “I am SO DONE having kids” people?

Ahem. Not my point.

Anyhow, the mom and I were talking. She had planned to work after her baby was born, and then circumstances contrived to make it possible for her to stay home. This was what she wanted all along. However, she and her husband just moved and now she doesn’t know anyone in her neighborhood. She is isolated, cocooned with her baby while her husband works.

I so, so, SO relate to her story. When Tre was born I did an abrupt about-face, from working full time and going to school full time, a life of utter chaos and action, to days at home with only my baby to talk to.

Which was fine to me. I was blissful, completely besotted. I strapped Tre in the baby carrier, warm against my chest, and walked the neighborhood. I stroked the velvet of his head and told him about the world. I remember talking to an older mom at church. When she realized that I was home – HOME - with my baby, she leaned in toward me and said emphatically,

“You need to get out. You NEED mom friends.”

I sat there, fat baby Tre on my lap, his fingers tangled in my hair, and nodded vaguely. I had no idea what she was talking about. I didn’t need anything.

Of course she was right. I DID need mom friends. I didn’t realize that until Tre was a toddler and I was pregnant and I nearly lost my mind.

So I tried to tell this mom, just as that other mom tried to tell me.

“Is there anywhere you can meet other moms in your neighborhood? You NEED mom friends.”

She sighed, shook her head.

“You know, I’ve tried. I went to the pool…and…it’s just that all the moms around us seem to be sort of…hands off. You know? They just sit on the side of the pool and talk while their kids play. I’m the only mom in the pool! I just think we do things differently.”

Oh. I rubbed my chin on the fuzz of her baby’s head. I remember. I pondered for a moment, but there is no way to prepare this mom. I couldn’t convince her that one day her baby, this tiny little being who looks at her like she invented light, will one day frown and say, “Mommy? You play over HERE, ok? I will play over THERE.”

And because today she defines her success as a mom by the amount of love and attention she can lavish on her child, she cannot comprehend that one day she will stand aside, force her hands to let go, and clamp her mouth shut on the advice she wants to give. That doing nothing as her child strikes out on her own will one day be the best thing she can do. One day she will turn and chat with her friends, even though her heart is splashing around in the pool.

There is no way to tell her what’s ahead. And just then two of my own babies ran up to me. Max was chasing Raphael, who barreled into my legs. The two of them circled me, throwing playful jabs at each other and shrieking with laughter. The young mom gathered her baby back, alarmed. I grabbed one wriggling boy in each arm.

“Hey, guys, look at me. Look at me. If you want to run around, go outside.” They nodded in assent and I released them back into their wild. I watched them go, hands-off, but heart bared.