For better or worse, I was never part of a mothers’ group.
The care we received while the twinlets were in NICU was priceless. I had a fantastic mid-wife who was solely dedicated to paying us home visits in those early months, saving me the stress from trying to get twins to a baby clinic on my own.
Just before discharging, I was given a long list of contact numbers – even one for an Indonesian speaking social worker if I was to ever seek support. (Only necessary I thought, if I my Indo needed practise. Not high on the agenda at that stage).
Despite all of this, there was no twins Mothers Group available.
Trying to join a normal singleton local group, I was given the face palm.
Apparently, my twins would “disrupt the dynamics” of the group.
Or something to that effect. Blah, blah, blah…
Despite the other things I’ve missed out on in life – like a raucous hen’s party, a BFF to share my wedding preparation joys, a normal, low-risk pregnancy with a straight forward labour and vaginal birth, I’ve never felt deprived.
I just figure, you make do with what you have; embrace the alternate route you need to take; and fill that void with other forms of awesomeness.
But I do remember when finally free from being house-bound, I yearned for social interaction.
A daily outing to the local shops and lunch at the coffee shop would be the closest thing to seeing humans .
Sitting at the outside corner table with the twinlets as my lunch buddies, I would secretly hope that a nice passerby would stick around, have a chat.
A few other mothers would stop, smile and strike up a conversation – which I would lap up like a desperate puppy dog.
It was a total score if we exchanged phone numbers.
“I hang out with some other mothers every week, you should come along to the next one,” they said sweetly, with a tinge of sympathy.
“Oh, I’d love that!”
Easy, Grace. Don’t appear too keen, now.
I’d go home with a spring in my step, thinking I hit the jackpot.
But that phone call never came. And disappointment would sink back into my days of seclusion and loneliness.
One day, a bubbly lady walked by, stopped in her tracks.
Finding out she had a boy of the same age, she told me about a local playgroup she attended with another mummy friend.
I almost feel off my chair when she actually texted me and invited me to come along with them.
And with that, the three of us became fast friends.
Being mums in the “older age” bracket, with boys all of the same age, there were already a few common denominators.
But being a mum for a while now, I realize that your kids can’t be the only connection to a mummy friendship.
I wish I could pinpoint what determines its foundation but all I can say is that it happens when you least expect.
You find it and you run with it. There’s no room to pine for what never was; or to wish for what could’ve been. You graciously take what you’re given and make it your alternate route to awesomeness.
Guaranteed you won’t be disappointed.
What alternate route to awesomeness have you taken lately?
Joining Essentially Jess for #IBOT