Becoming a stay-at-home mom has been quite the experience. When I lost my job, the very next day I was online looking for things I could do with my daughter. I didn’t want to be that mom who stayed in all day, and frankly, I was terrified of losing myself.
The first thing I found was Library Story Time. Basically every library has one or even several. I opened my trusty Google Calendar and started a new calendar called “SAHM Events For Me and Lisa.” And off I went scheduling each one, a purple highlighted event or two every day of the week.
The very first Story Time I went to, I will never forget. I was absolutely nervous. I had this ongoing fear of being out alone with Lisa. As if a catastrophe would happen, and I’d be all alone, wondering how to handle it. In real life, babies cry, we change a diaper, give a pacifier or a bottle, and move on. But I had this idea in my mind that SOMEthing will happen!! Regardless of whether the other person I would have with me knew what to do or not, didn’t matter. I just didn’t want to handle something ALONE.
So I arrive at this Story Time, it’s raining, I have Lisa in the little umbrella stroller, and there is no ramp at the entrance. I am puzzled, but just in time, a mom approaches with her toddler and offers to take the front of the stroller and help carry it up the stairs. I was so grateful, and hoped she would guide me to Story Time because why else would I be at a library with a baby? But no, she hurried away once inside. I sighed with disappointment, slightly embarrassed I didn’t ask her myself, but the moment passed and I just kept moving.
I wander around and finally ask the librarian where Story Time is. She seemed overly interested with my search, like she needed to find out where it was, too. “Oh! They should be in this room here!” And she scurried toward this door, where story time had just started, and she was so glad to find it for me.
Now, I don’t remember specifics, but I remember feelings and expectations not being met. No mom introduced herself to me, I was barely acknowledged as I entered, and I had no clue where to put the stroller, where to sit, what the heck was going on. What it reminded me of was the first day of school. When everyone is so into themselves, wondering what others are thinking, and no one really notices anyone else.
I remember being overwhelmed by some sentimental feelings deep down, and I kept tearing up every time a song was sung. Sometimes I chalk this up to leftover postpartum hormones going nuts. And sometimes I believe my soul knew this is where I was meant to be. When I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, especially during times where I was not in control of the situation, I am filled to the brim with sparkly, butterfly-and-rainbow emotions and the only way out is through my eyes, apparently.
Story time ends unceremoniously, and I make small talk with the teacher, who seems more interested in cleaning up and getting out, but offers a quick tidbit of info that on sunny days starting in June (it was then May), they will be meeting a few blocks away at the park on the lake. This filled me with apprehension – a new place I’d have to navigate. Are there bathrooms? Will we need sunscreen? Do I take the stroller? Are there benches? Do I bring a blanket?
As my mind calmed, remembering to stay where my feet are, I decide to scope out the bathroom and change Lisa’s diaper.
I HATE public restrooms for diaper changes. It gives me anxiety about germs, things going wrong, everything. Which gives me an opportunity to practice patience and check in with reality. I run down a mental list within seconds like this: I can’t save my baby from every germ, if there’s no changing table she still fits in the backseat of the car for a change, I have a stroller so yes I can wash my hands after, don’t worry what others think – just change your baby and leave.
I remember this first change, being frustrated and talking myself through it. A family came in with I think 2 kids, and I was distracted, struggling to keep focus on my own baby, hoping these kids don’t start going through my diaper bag. After I’m done, I put Lisa in the stroller and go into the finally unoccupied handicap stall so I can pee and move on with our day.
All is well and good, I was proud of myself for getting out of the house, and then in the afternoon, right after lunch, I realized that Lisa’s “favorite” animal (she didn’t have favorites at 6 months, but Leafy Lion was special since it was the first toy my husband bought her) was not in the diaper bag. I talked myself through the call I’d have to make to the library, took a few deep breaths and pressed CALL.
Librarians are some of the nicest people, I have to always remember this. The one who answered took it upon herself to go to the bathroom and check for me. When she got back on the line, she asked if I’d forgotten the changing pad too, and I said, “Oh, yup, I guess I did! It was our first time out, I must have been so distracted.” She was understanding and put them both in a bag for us to get later.
And so began my journey outside of the working world. Many blunders, more stories to tell. What I learned most from this first experience is that all of us moms are the same. Just trying to do what we think is best for our kids,
desperately hoping for connection but afraid of opening up. Well, I guess I can only speak for myself. Maybe some moms really just don’t care for other people, haha!
But for me, I crave connection and have continually been let down at these events. It hadn’t occurred to me that maybe I should be the one making contact first. After 1 year of almost weekly library visits, I can say I’ve started many conversations with moms and even made a few mom friends!
I’ve come a long way, and I’m slowly building my mom tribe, cracking the mom disconnection code, one vulnerable moment at a time.
