C.J. Schneider - Mothers of the Village: Why All Moms Need the Support of a Motherhood Community and How to Find It For Yourself

Copyright 2016 by C. J. Schneider

All rights reserved.

Published by Familius LLC, www.familius.com

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

pISBN 9781942934370

eISBN 9781942934882

Hardcover ISBN 9781942934899

Printed in the United States of America

Edited by Lindsay Sandberg

Cover Design by David Miles

Book Design by Lindsay Sandberg

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

First Edition

For my mom, who passed on her love of reading and of being a mother.

For my dad, who taught me how to find the humor in even the toughest patches of life.

For my husband, who I make music and babies and chaos with.

And for my children, who have my heart entirely.

Contents

Part I

Why a Village?

My intent in writing this book is to offer hope and encouragement to all of those looking to strengthen their own networks of support and improve the quality of their motherhood experience. It is not to discourage mothers suffering from postpartum depression from seeking professional help.

My objective is to give moms options for how they can improve their mothering experience, lighten their own loads, and find joy in connecting with other moms. Being a part of a mothering village can help moms be more resilient and better equipped to overcome depression, fatigue, loneliness, anger, and guilt.

In sharing my own experiences with village building, along with the experiences of other mothers who have also shared their inspiring stories, I hope to offer useful ideas of how to build the villages we all need.

Chapter 1

My Story

E ight months after giving birth to my third child, I found myself sitting in front of my doctor talking about the side effects of antidepressants. She wrote out a prescription; I got it filled, went home, and set the pill bottle in my cupboard.

As I placed the pills down, still not quite believing that it had come to this, I looked at my antidepressants and sadly thought to myself, Well, theres my community. The reason why the word community came to my mind firstbefore any other word, such as happiness or sanity was because, besides being completely sleep deprived, the most overwhelming feeling that drove me to the doctors office in the first place was loneliness.

My loneliness was often manifested in bursts of frustration and anger. Once, shortly before my visit to the doctor, I went grocery shopping with my baby girl and toddler son. I was exhausted and grumpy, my shopping list was long, and, after undergoing the trials of shopping with two small children, I was relieved when I finally reached the checkout line. I reached into my bag to pull out my wallet only to realize that I had left it in my van. I took a deep breath and pushed the heavy cart over to one of the stores greeters. I explained the situation and asked if I could please take the loaded cartwith my children strapped inout to the parking lot to quickly get my wallet and then come back to pay. The older gentleman shook his head. No. There was no way they could let me do that. It was, of course, against store policy. An understandable position for anyone who isnt stark raving mad. I, however, was stark raving mad. So when the greeter told me I had to take my cranky, tired kids out of the cart and haul them in my weary arms to my van, what lit my chest on fire was not the effort ahead of me but the message I felt was being delivered: I really was on my own, and not even the paid door greeter at Walmart would help me.

And so, with my fuse lit, I began, right there in the store, to angrily unload all of the groceries from the cart onto the floor right beside that well-intentioned, bewildered greeter.

I have been known to possess a natural flair for the dramatic, even before children entered the scene, but the grocery store incident was definitely out of character for me. The signs were all there: I had acclimated to feeling miserable all the time and was disconnected from myself physically and emotionally. I ignored flu-like symptoms and joint pain, I stopped feeling happy or sad, and I couldnt stop eatingpicture a bleary-eyed Godzilla in Candyland.

I needed some help.

I needed my village.

I havent always craved a close community in such a desperate way. Before h aving kids, I was a pretty independent person. Ive never had a difficult time leaving people or places behind, because I naturally delight in the novelty of change. For many years, I didnt really think that having a solid, consistent community was all that important. Perhaps it is because, for most of my life, I have found ready connections and been able to develop meaningful friendships fairly easily. However, this ease in building a new community became progressively harder as I started having children. Shocking how no one wants to cozy up to the strange, crazy lady who looks like she is readyeven eagerto step into an Ultimate Fighting Championship ring at a moments notice.

Now that I look back at my life, I see how important community has been all along. I guess I just took it for granted. I can now see that at every stage of my adult life, I have benefited tremendously from being a part of a community.

During my university studies, I lived in a house full of students which we named The Pit. It lived up to its name. It was old, gross, neglected, and cheap. That run-down place (which I would shudder at living in now) holds some of my favorite memories, because I had good, solid friends therea community, a group of girls with whom I could talk about my life and my worries. We did Tae Bo in our living room, shared ideas about art, took road trips, and listened to a lot of Neil Diamond together.

I also found community through joining the Canadian Naval Reserves to help pay for a semester abroad in Amsterdam. I struggled through boot camp and am so glad I did, because that experience helped me see the importance of group cohesion and demonstrated the powerful force that can be created when people organize and work together toward a common goal. I loved the feeling of knowing that my platoon had my back and shared the understanding that you are only as fast as your slowest man.

After university, I put a plane ticket to Taiwan on my credit card and taught English for a year and a half. I lived with two other women who were definitely kindred spirits. The best memories I have of Taiwan are of the people I connected with who loved me, laughed with me, and taught me. Although I can happily recount the joys that friendship and connection brought me in the past, it has taken me a while to truly understand and appreciate what deep and meaningful connections really look like.

While I was living in Taipei, I met Jackie, an experienced mother of five who shared with me a heartwarming example of a connection she had made in her own life. I count her as one of my teachers even though it took years for me to be able to look back and finally benefit from her wisdom.