My husband’s mother and his aunt, both of whom are referred to as grandmas, visited for a long weekend. Friday evening until Tuesday afternoon were filled with grandmothers spoiling the heck out of my kid.
The grandmothers are in love with Sabine and spent most of the time playing with and holding her, giving me precious blocks of time to sit and do nothing but look at my lovely child. I thought I would do more, like cook, clean, paint and take a tub, but instead I enjoyed just watching, and having two free hands to pet my cats!
And then the grandmothers left and suddenly our 900 square foot apartment seems extremely empty… and lonely.
People had mentioned the isolation that motherhood brings and I always assumed these were mothers who did not get out. I figured the only way to feel isolated when you were a new mom was to avoid play groups and making new mommy friends, so I struck out as soon as we moved to New York and remedied this. I have awesome mommy friends, fun play groups, regular outings and more. I live in a walkable, exciting city that is brimming with free things for me to do with my baby.
What I did not anticipate how much my child would dictate what we do. Sabine is run down from a long weekend of grandmothers doting and playing. Her nap schedule is off. Her sleep schedule is off. She is fussy and unpleasant to be around. Because of this we missed play group. Because of this our morning trip to the grocery was not fun. Because of this I am sitting in my apartment, freshly showered but still in yoga pants, waiting for her to wake up and praying for a better mood so we can go to the library. So I can get out. So I can see other faces and maybe chat with some other lonely moms.
I am not complaining. I know that these early months are the hardest, and that as Sabine grows we will have more good days and more adventures. It’s hard to galavant through NYC with a four month old, you know? Despite this knowledge, I sit here looking out my big windows at the city below and feel so alone. I remind myself that tomorrow will be better, and that in a few weeks we will be heading to my parents house for Christmas, and in a few weeks after that I will start school, giving me some precious structure to my rather fluid weeks. The isolation, though, is still very real. I know that if I’m sitting here feeling this way, looking out at this big city, at least a few other moms are doing the same thing. So I thought I’d write about it and hope that together we can remember that this too shall pass, and that we are not alone.
To the lonely mamas, and the lonely future mamas, I raise my cup of hot decaf to you. This too shall pass.