Being a parent has underscored for me just how deeply fragmented our sense of community is in American culture. When I was pregnant with my first child, I thought I had ample community support. My husband and I were very connected with our church, we had family nearby, we had work, and we had other long-lasting friends around the city. Our work and social calendars were full, and surely the people and events that filled our days would continue to be there for us after our child was born.
Unfortunately this turned out not to be the case, at least for the most part. Thankfully we did have friends drop off dinners for us for the first week after our daughter’s birth. But then it seemed friends quickly started to fall away. Maybe it was just that I was too exhausted to reach out, combined with people assuming I was unavailable for socializing (a fair assumption).
I also got laid off from my job, so I didn’t even have the structure of work to go back to. We still had our church, but its service met on Sunday evenings, a difficult time for a fussy infant, so our church attendance became sporadic. I was faced with long, isolated hours alone with a preverbal baby. This took a toll on my mental health, which was already declining from extreme sleep deprivation and postpartum hormones. In truth, I likely had PTSD from a difficult labor and first few weeks postpartum. I didn’t have health insurance and was over the income limit for Medicaid, so I couldn’t seek medical or mental health care for myself.
There were a few things that saved me during that difficult time. One was having help on the weekends. Between my mom and my mother-in-law, usually one of them was there each weekend to spend a night or two and do some night-time bottle-feedings so I could sleep.
I also figured out some outings my daughter and I could go on during the day. By the time she was 5-months-old, I’d cobbled together a weekly schedule that included library storytime, mom + baby yoga, baby sign language, and even a mom + baby writing group. I had a zoo membership and we’d frequently go for long walks through the zoo. My husband and I started inviting various friends over for dinner about once a week, and we had a group of friends that I arranged monthly weekend breakfasts with. I arranged playdates with other moms at our church. Still, I spent most of my time alone with my baby, and I was very lonely.
I’d mastered the art of getting out of the house with a baby, but I was too exhausted to really connect with people during those outings. I needed a community that I didn’t have to try so hard for. No one – especially an exhausted young mom with a postpartum mood disorder — can be the constant host and initiator. Relationships need to be reciprocal.
In Matthew 15:12-13, Jesus said, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” We are called as Christians to be good friends. Being a good friend should be a high priority, but it often gets buried in our busy schedules and various commitments.
A friend who lived nearby during this time told my husband and I later that we should have asked for more help. I suppose this is true. I accept responsibility for that and I have no blame for anyone. But I was too busy surviving each day to ask for help. Besides, asking for help was not something that naturally came to my mind. And I couldn’t even think of what to ask for. We’d been gifted many of the material things we needed, and I was grateful, but it didn’t fill the hole where community should have been.
Ultimately, my husband and I decided to move to Eugene. Living in Portland wasn’t working out for us economically, and I didn’t have the emotional support system I needed. We needed to be nearer my parents, as well as to find more affordable housing. One thing that I’ve really appreciated about having my parents around is that they assume we need help with our kids. I sometimes let them know when I have a need, but they usually offer before I ask. They’ve provided us with an immense amount of free childcare, and even let me share one of their cars for a few years until we could afford to buy a second vehicle.
I wish that all parents had supportive grandparents living nearby. Many do, and many do not. I can tell you with certainty that humans were meant to raise their children in community, with supportive family and friends nearby. It absolutely does take a village to raise a child. Community in our culture is fragmented, but we can work to change that. How? I invite you to build community by:
Being an initiator. Invite a friend or acquaintance to join you for coffee, dinner etc.
Reciprocating. Do you have a friend who often reaches out to you or invites you to do things? It’s your turn to invite them back.
Saying hello to your neighbors.
Expanding your circle. Be intentional making new friends.
Volunteering at church. Church cannot happen without the support of volunteers. Volunteer to help lessen the burden and prevent others from burning out!
Asking for help. Yes, sometimes we all need to show our vulnerable side and allow others to help us. People don’t know that you have a need unless you ask.
What are your ideas for building community? Let us know in the comments below.
About the Author
Ursula and her husband Spencer have two young children, and their family enjoys playing hide-and-seek and dancing in the living room. She works as a communications and events coordinator with the University of Oregon.
You can read more from Ursula at motherbearblog.com.