Imperfections are not inadequacies; they are reminders that we’re all in this together.
— Brené Brown
I find many social interactions painful. I’ve worked hard over the years to cultivate a part of me that I call my public representative that can have conversations with strangers or acquaintances. This is the part of me that I think is the least weird and awkwardly manages to make small talk, although far too often I still find myself unintentionally steering conversations back to my analysis of Naked and Afraid (my favourite reality show), because other than the politics of parenting, how to survive without the luxuries of modern life is basically the only thing I like talking about. Social work counselling is the perfect job for me because it allows me to mostly listen, to set up clear boundaries and role expectations, and to know that people want to be around me because they pay to be there.
I didn’t have any parent friends for quite a long time. My older child was five when I first became friends with someone who also had kids the same age as me. I share this because I understand the challenges of finding your parenting village, despite the popularity of this advice to postpartum parents. This chapter isn’t going to give you all sorts of advice about signing up for baby music classes or how to start a playgroup. If you’re a person who gravitates to those things, I encourage you to explore those avenues and build a village that feels good for you. For the rest of us, this chapter is dedicated to being less alone when you feel that there are significant barriers to resolving isolation and loneliness as a parent.
I hear references to “the village” a lot when discussing new parents. This concept of a parenting village has gone through many iterations, but it usually falls somewhere between pre-industrial images of women giving birth in the woods and then sitting around with other women breastfeeding each other’s babies, and images of country women bringing new parents casseroles and disciplining each other’s children. This back-to-the-land mentality crops up in a variety of social areas, most recognizably in the domains of childrearing and food (take a quick look at Pinterest trends if you aren’t sure what I mean). As we feel the deep impact of cultural shifts to individualism over collectivism and as we realize that the rise of technology has not fulfilled its promise of more leisure and efficiency, but instead has created an economy that demands that we work harder, produce more, and never feel like we have enough, it makes sense that we long for a return to authenticity and naturalness (whatever those are). The result has been an idealized fantasy about “simpler times.” But these fantasies overlook the labour and resources it takes to raise children and run a household,1 which was a lot when you had to grow your own food, make your own clothes, and manage seven children. We made homemade tofu at our house recently, and it was a lot of work. We soaked the soybeans, made soy milk, then made tofu from it. It took over a day from start to finish. While I felt like a total rock star and demanded praise for my industriousness, the whole family likely would have benefited more from buying it from the store and then spending the afternoon playing cards together.
When we imagine this idyllic parenting village, we overemphasize the aspects that we long for, such as family and friends nearby to help. Because our current economy requires that parents raise families close to their paid work, but not necessarily close to their extended families, our personal “villages” often lack the types of resources and security that multi-generational families enjoy. Often, the images of the “parenting village” centre around a Leave It to Beaver–style image that omits the high maternal and infant death rates, class disparities, and egregious human rights violations that have featured so strongly throughout history.
That sad truth is that the kind of village most of us would ideally have for our child/children is gone. I’m not sure that it ever truly existed in the way we wish it did. While I’ve heard references to a modern-day parenting village, usually that involves hiring services (which is a great option if you can afford it) or leveraging online parenting communities, which doesn’t feel like a well-rounded solution. Thankfully, other conceptual models are emerging. Gabrielle Griffith, a full-spectrum doula who specializes in postpartum sex and relationships and has a focus on supporting queer and BIPOC families, doesn’t refer to the village when working with clients, but instead guides them through cultivating what they call compassionate and conscious collective care (CCC Care). Parents often get vague offers of support, such as “Let me know if you need anything” that don’t result in anything tangible, which is why CCC Care suggests that parents create a detailed list of what support means to them. This could be anything from taking your dog for a walk, to setting up a meal train, to keeping you company during the day (or night!).
The first step to CCC Care is to get really clear about what help looks like for your family. Start by making a list of all the things that would give you a sense of relief, allow you to feel supported, and make life feel a little bit easier. Don’t get distracted by whether or not you think what you’re asking for is possible; the purpose of this exercise is to get clear about what would feel like appropriate help.
Once you have your list of support actions, the next step is taking an inventory of the support people in your life, to get a sense of who could offer support and what kind of support they could offer. Keep this list as broad as possible, not just limited to your mom and your best friend. Include friends you haven’t talked to in a while, co-workers, neighbours, and extended family. The people we will turn to for emotional support are often very different from the people we turn to for hands-on support. For example, you might call your cousin and cry about how tired you are but know that they would never come over during a snowstorm and shovel your driveway, but a sibling who lives close by might if you asked.
Once you have a sense of who you can turn to, ask them if they would be willing to support you in very specific ways. That way you can negotiate what’s possible and state your expectations, rather than hoping they notice that you need help. Here’s what it might sound like:
“I’m having trouble remembering to take my meds in the morning because I’m so tired. Could I text you every morning after I’ve taken them, so I have some accountability while I build a new habit?”
“I find some of the afternoons really lonely. Could I call you on really tough days?”
“It’s really challenging for me to take the baby to the doctor on the bus. We have a few appointments coming up over the next month. Are you able to drive us to any of these?”
If it feels difficult to ask directly, it’s perfectly okay to send a mass email or ask someone you trust to organize your support team on your behalf. When asking, it’s important to make sure your requests include three questions: (1) Are you able to help?, (2) What can you do from this list?, and (3) When can you do this?
The last step in building CCC Care is following up and holding people who said yes accountable. I totally understand that accessing your community can feel overwhelming. Belonging to a community generally comes with rules of conduct and expectations, such as being easy to get along with and not taking up too much space, which is sometimes difficult to live up to when you are suffering from a PMAD. It can feel risky to show up in social spaces with our authentic mood, and we worry about experiencing criticism or rejection. Or worse — we may ask for help that never comes. I know someone who experienced this when they reached out for help with their PMAD, and while it was painful to realize that their community was unreliable, they said that once they had processed the frustration and embarrassment of having friends and family not follow through on their commitments, it became obvious what relationships were worth investing in going forward. It shifted their intrapersonal relationships in a positive way.
Families of origin (meaning the people who raised you), whether yours or your partner’s (if you have one), are complex. There are some of us who have wonderfully supportive relationships, for whom family members are also the primary source of friendships. If you have that, it’s special and I hope you cherish it. And if they live with you or close enough to help with the day-to-day child and household maintenance? That’s basically magic.
Alas, many new parents have difficult relationships with some or all family members. You may adore your family of origin but feel tense with your partner’s family (or vice versa), or you may adore your own family while your partner does not. Families can be a source of great pain, abuse, or loss. If that feels familiar to you, it’s normal to feel sad, angry, or jealous about the lack of family support available to you. You may feel this extra deeply if you have parent friends who are well supported by their family members. Often we have to grieve the loss of family, sometimes for the second or third time, when we see what we’re missing and feel the loneliness of not having parents looking out for us in the way we would ideally want.
Thankfully, family of origin is just one way to be in a family system. You can opt to create a chosen family of people who accept you and look out for you in the ways you wish your family would.
It’s common for our friendships to go through dramatic changes after we become parents. We can feel very out of touch with our child-free friends, who often operate on very different schedules and can never fully understand the grind of parenting. It can be painful and awkward if you have friends that want to have a baby but are having a difficult time with fertility, especially if they have suffered a loss. How do you tell someone who’s working so hard to become a parent that you’re finding parenting hard? And if you do have friends with children, it can be surprisingly difficult to coordinate plans, given that they’re navigating their own set of family dynamics.
If you’re feeling lonely or unsupported, it’s likely not rooted in poor intentions from the people who care about you. Maybe they’re also managing the best they can and don’t have anything extra to give, or maybe you just haven’t asked (or haven’t been specific with your requests, which is why the support action list is so helpful).
Also, if you have the energy, it’s worthwhile asking the people in your life if there’s anything you can do to support them. Not only because it models what you want from them, but also because it feels good to support other people, and hanging out in someone else’s problems can give you a reprieve from your own. (And it solidifies that community orientation to raising children that I am such an advocate of.)
If you’re in the market for new parenting friends, it’s worthwhile to check out spaces that are intentionally designed for new parents, but it’s more helpful to choose activities that you like, rather than what you think you should do for your baby. If you hate working out but love politics, you likely won’t find your parent-people at a stroller fit class, but you might find them at a political protest. Make a list of activities that you really love and see if you can seek out opportunities to engage in them, child or children in tow. Don’t be afraid to try out lots of different activities, and be gentle with yourself because, similar to dating, it takes time to find the right people.
It can also be helpful to seek out support groups for parents with PMADs. Not only because it’s a great form of therapy, but also because you might more easily relate to parents going through a similar experience. Also, support groups usually provide snacks and child care!
If there are physical or emotional barriers to connecting with people in person, there’s an increasing number of online support groups, which are often free.2 You can also meet local parents or parents with similar interests or parenting philosophies to you on websites like Facebook or Reddit, or on standalone sites. These are great because you can often lurk and get a sense of the people and the unspoken rules of the group before posting. Sometimes it’s enough just to read others’ posts and know you aren’t alone with your feelings. And it’s comforting to know that there are others up feeding babies at 3:00 a.m., when it’s dark and you feel so alone in the world.
If you’re particularly socially anxious, know that you are my parenting people. It can be helpful to reframe social interactions as a quest to find people that you like, rather than trying to make yourself likeable to others. Having kids around the same age is often not enough to build a connection, so you may need to dig for points you have in common. When I’m going into social situations where I have to meet new people, I always make a list of things I can talk or ask about, such as “I’m looking for a new show on Netflix. Have any recommendations?” or “Been anywhere interesting on vacation recently?” People love to be asked about themselves, so if you get stuck, try to get curious about who they are. If all else fails, exit the conversation and try again with someone else.
Meeting new people is difficult, and sometimes it can leave you with a vulnerability hangover, which is a concept from Brené Brown’s research about shame and vulnerability.3 This occurs when we’ve opened up a little too much, a little too fast, or to someone that wasn’t able to hold a vulnerable part of us. It happens to everyone from time to time, and it’s just a sign that the person you opened up to isn’t a safe person to be vulnerable with. If you find yourself ruminating over a conversation, feeling like you’ve disclosed too much of yourself, try imagining multiple possibilities for why the conversation felt uncomfortable, rather than making up a story that you are unlikeable. For example, let’s say that you talk openly about your struggles with PPA with another parent you meet at a drop-in group and they become uncomfortably quiet and find a reason to end the conversation. It might be true that the person thinks you’re a total weirdo, but it’s just as possible that they related to a lot of what you said but got awkward because they aren’t comfortable talking about their own mood, or that they were thinking of a friend who also has PPD/A and they were worried about them. You might not be able to convince yourself of an alternative story, but it’s worthwhile to make space for the possibility and allow for multiple narratives about what happened. Thankfully, talking openly about perinatal mood is rapidly gaining more acceptance and coming out of the shadows.
You may not find forever friends in your quest to seek out parenting friends. Media images and the make every moment magical value from impossible-parenting culture want to sell us on the idea that we need to have a parenting squad, but it’s actually rare to find one, and it can’t be forced. Sometimes it happens over time and not in the first few years of parenting. I like leveraging author Tom Rath’s Vital Friends framework for conceptualizing friendship, which suggests that there are a wide variety of types of friendships, each important in their own way.4 Rather than look for a parenting group that you feel gives you a sense of total belonging, often it’s easier to look for a few specific types of friends. And it’s okay if you form temporary friendships that fizzle out over time. Here are a few types of friendships worth looking for:
Activity Partner: This is someone you share a similar interest with. It could be someone you like walking with, going to baby classes with, or meeting up for coffee. This might be a superficial friendship that doesn’t go very deep. The goal is just to have some enjoyable company.
Identity Inspiration: There are a lot of different types of parenting labels, such as attachment parents, tiger parents, unicorn parents, etc. The formation of your parenting social identity can be confusing and has both benefits and costs. It’s true that the world of parenting subcultures can feel divisive, because they focus more on how we are different than on how we are the same, which can lead to judgment or a sense of superiority. More often than not we don’t fully align with all the values of any parenting subculture group, so it can feel overly simplistic to assign ourselves a group label. But when our parenting identity is first forming, feeling a part of a particular group can be an important anchor and confidence building. It feels similar to exploring teenage cliques in high school. There’s comfort in knowing that you’re a jock or band geek, because it provides instant access to community and a deepening sense of self. Yet as we grow and have more experiences, we expand our social identities and realize that being a band geek is only one part of us (most of us do, anyway). You likely no longer identify as a jock, but as someone who loves to play sports. Finding someone whose parenting style you admire can be helpful in shaping your own identity until yours feels fully integrated.
Normalizer: This is the friend that always makes you feel a little better by saying “Same here!” when you share a challenge you’re going through — not in a way that feels competitive, but in a way that makes you feel less alone.
Venting Buddy: Sometimes it feels great to rant and complain! This friend never judges you for letting it out and will often join you in saying “This part of parenting sucks so bad!” Ideally this friend is also funny and able to share venting space. You can limit time with them if it starts to feel too negative or toxic.
Answer Master: This is your friend who’s a seasoned parent, or at least a little bit ahead of you, who knows a lot about what’s normal. They are the one you turn to when your kiddo gets their first tooth or diaper rash and you aren’t sure what to do.
Wisdom Seeker: This is the opposite of the answer master. This is a friend whose kiddo is a little younger than yours, who you get to give support and advice to. It can be helpful to realize how far you’ve come and how much you know about parenting.
What I like about the approach of finding certain types of helpful friendships, rather than look for a lifelong parenting crew, is that you don’t need to solve every intrapersonal relationship issue in the first few years of parenting; the goal is just to be less alone. I suggest you play with the types of friends that you would like to have in your life, and limit time with any that don’t feel supportive right now. Anything that helps alleviate loneliness is worthwhile.