Our People- Support



Almost seven weeks in with a newborn and I am struck by something that I can’t get out of my head. I can’t find a catchy title for this post. I can’t find something to relate it to so that people understand. All I can do is write about it.

My ma’s biggest concern about where we live is that we don’t have in her words a “support system”. Neighbors that we trust in our time of need, people a stone’s throw away who can come over in a moment’s notice to hold a baby or someone one their way to Target who knocks on our door to see if we need anything.

I get it.

She is right.

We don’t.

We live on a great block in “the city”. We live in an area where people want to live. We are the newest members of our block with the exception of a few rentals. Most of the people on our street have lived here a long time. They are friendly with each other and some are actually very close. But we don’t fit in to this street community. I could attribute it to a lot of things. We are two-parent working household. Both of us work in the suburbs adding more minutes we are away from home. Our kids are two of the youngest on the block. Our opportunity to get to know our neighbors is slim and our time at home during the week even slimmer.

Yet, the past two weeks I have been constantly reminded by the fact that we do have a support system. We have people who care. We have friends that are more like family.

A Thursday morning visit in pajamas with friend I was initially introduced to thru my husband. She came over and let me cry as I told her how hard it has been. Starbucks in hand she sat on the couch, listened, never past judgment and offered support and reassurance as tears rolled down my cheeks. She is the reason we pushed going to the pediatrician three times in one week and why Cate is now on Zantac for reflux. She watched me cry and she never made me feel inadequate.

A phone call from a childhood friend. It started with a simple, “How are you? I am worried about you.” It continued with a honest, real, and emotional conversation telling me I am not alone. She asked what she could do and told me of her own struggles. Something so difficult to share but paving the way for me to tell her my fears. She reminded me that years have nothing on true friends.

A Friday night visit from one of my best friends. She was hoping for dinner and drinks and instead she walked in, sat down on the couch, had a beer with me and just listened. She calls me constantly just to see how I am and to tell me she is thinking about me. She offers advice, laughs with me and even says prayers when we needed them most.

A Wednesday visit from my other best friend. She is a new mama herself and has had more than enough going on in her life yet, she came, she listened, she laughed with me and she helped me.

A package in the mail all the way from Alabama with pink knit hats and pink knit botties for Cate. Sent from a friend from college whose gesture and short note reminds me that community stretches years and that she is still here.

An unexpected Friday visit from both of our siblings to take a walk to Starbucks, play with Brady and with arms willing to hold our sweet baby Cate. They are blood and they are good to us.

A sibling and his wife willing to drive an hour to spend an hour at a pumpkin patch. Knowing we couldn’t do it alone and realizing that we needed their help so that our oldest could have some fun.

A husband who knows me as well as anyone. He knows when to push me to “buck up” and when to take his arms and wrap them around me. He levels me, steadies me, and is the voice of reason when I think we are in over our heads.

Community. I got it.

And ma, you are one of the most important parts of it.

Community, we have it. And I am thankful for it.

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