I graduated seminary December 2012 and got to work my dream job doing spiritual direction from January until May. Then Emi was born late June and my hubby and I had one month to enjoy our new daughter where we had formed our life and marriage together before moving (literally taking visitors every day so our wide and well-loved community could meet her at least once before the move). One month to the day after she was born, we moved into my parents' master suite and exactly one month later we moved into the home we've lived in our entire time in Sacramento thus far. We left what was probably the closest and best community we have ever experienced--dear couple friends across the street that we were doing life with and several of my closest college girl friends within an hour's drive in any direction I looked. Add to that the fact that I had just finished a degree in Spiritual Formation in which my professors created a beautiful space in which my cohort could connect and get to know one another in a deep and raw way as we learned to become spiritual directors. Those people became so dear to me in 3.5 short years and came to know the "real" and "whole" of who Lindsay is. There is a group of women that I could go to (and still can, thanks to the internet and phones) about deep things of the heart and they listen well and respond with the utmost care and love.
Then I had a baby and we moved and suddenly, my life consisted of taking care of a sweet baby who didn't like to sleep while my husband worked 60+ hours a week in a place where no one knew me. And this was the first time hubby worked a full-time job since we had both been in school our first years of marriage. We thought, "Sacramento is close to my family so that will be helpful," but the closest family is 45 minutes away and I wasn't confident driving my newborn that far (and back) right away to make weekly visits.
So I did what lots of people told me to do (the rational thing, really). I joined a moms group. Everyone says it's easier to make friends when you have kids, so I thought it wouldn't be so bad. But, as sweet as these new mom-friends were, I couldn't shake this deep struggle in my heart. I was disappointed. I still felt extremely lonely. I couldn't go to very many play dates because it interfered with the challenge of naps (now I think I should have gone and said the heck with those naps, but that's in hindsight). These moms were nice. They ooohed and aaahed over Emi and offered to hold her and tried to connect with her and I. But I still felt so empty relationally. Of course, I was texting, skyping, FaceTiming and FaceBooking with old SoCal friends to try to fill my vast need for social connection, but it still wasn't enough and I couldn't figure out why. And my poor husband was being sucked dry by his new job and then coming home to a needy and exhausted wife and baby. Recipe for disaster... or at least the beginning of some unhealthiness in our family life.
Then one day, after a few meetings with my new spiritual director, we stumbled together upon the realization that each new friend I was meeting up here was connecting with me almost entirely as "Emi's Mother" (except one who knew me as a woman in ministry, but still with both of us having little ones, we mostly talked about mom-things... and one other girl who asked me lots of great questions but due to busyness didn't become a regular part of my life). I didn't realize there was anything wrong with this (there actually isn't anything wrong with connecting just as moms) until it finally dawned on me that I wanted desperately to be known as more than "Emi's Mom." Not that being "Emi's Mom" isn't enough of a description for me currently because it sums up the majority of how my time is spent and what my thoughts are consumed with. Her well-being is a very high priority at this time in my life. But I realized that in the challenge of having to make all new friends with a newborn, it was too easy for conversations to start and stop at the mom talk. Conversations rarely ventured past feeding and sleeping schedules and trouble-shooting (important and consuming topics but sensitive for me since I had a "bad" sleeper who didn't follow the oft-praised BabyWise formula). I wasn't having conversations in which we spoke about the other aspects of our lives. Who were we before we had children? How does being a mother become mixed into the other parts of us that are still there albeit more in the background? How do others handle the great sacrifice it is to become a mother and let so many things go in the early years? How do I maintain my sense of who I am professionally, relationally, socially, maritally, etc. while not neglecting the huge responsibility of mothering my little one well? Do other moms experience these challenges or does it come more natural to them? I realize that not all new mothers care to take much time to deal with this and/or that some assimilate their selves as mother and other things more smoothly/quickly/easily than I did (and still am). But for me, I needed to realize that I was feeling discontent in these new friendships because I felt known only in this new awkward part of my identity and that the rest of me (now 30 years worth of interests, experiences, roles, parts of me, etc.) seemed unimportant and untouched. But how can I feel like any of these new friends actually know me if they only know this new part of me? I don't even fully know who I am as a mother yet--it is constantly evolving and taking shape and yet this is the only part of me that seemed visible and interacted with on a regular basis.
And then I realize I have to add the caveat that my experience has been intensified by the fact that I made a geographical move at such a critical time in the "becoming a mother" season. If I had stayed in SoCal, I am confident my experience would have been much different. However, I think I still would have felt the need to explore the same sorts of questions: how do I assimilate who I am as a friend and spiritual director into my new identity as a mother? How do I keep those other parts of me alive when taking care of a baby is at times all-consuming and completely exhausting? But having friends who knew Lindsay pre-Emi would have changed the experience drastically. Sometimes, I mourn not having those friends available for play dates during Emi's early months when I was trying to sort these things out and articulate the deep things going on in my heart. But I know not to wish my circumstances away. I know I have learned important things from having to "become a mother" in this new place. Maybe I needed the drastic lack of community to bring it to light more quickly so that I could begin to process this thoroughly the way I needed to.
Today, as I reflect on these things, I realize how blessed I am that I have a few women who are becoming deeper friends as we have begun to reveal the "other" parts of ourselves beyond our motherhood identities. I also remember that, thanks to my husband's nudge and blessing, I took Emi with me to see a few close (but non-mother) friends in Seattle when she was 6 months old and those women reminded me what it was like to bring the rest of Lindsay out to play, so to speak. I think that trip helped me remember who I was before becoming a mother so that I could return to Sacramento on a mission to become a more cohesive person again--woman, mother, wife, friend, spiritual director, runner, reader, crafter, etc.
