We started talking over the seesaw. Her with one, me with two. I’d had a rough night with both the baby and the toddler taking turns- up, down, up, down. My guard was down; I was tired. We chatted away, the toddlers’ heads bobbing beneath us.
It didn’t take long for us to learn we had a few things in common: gestational diabetes while pregnant, our boys hating the car, and we both had children with intolerances to dairy. When younger, our tiny babies screamed and writhed uncomfortably for hour upon hour each evening. It seemed that there was no miracle cure, until dairy was eliminated from our diets. Ahhhhhhh relief.
But some damage had already been done for both of us. Add to that our children who scream horrendously when they go in the car and you have two mums who have become isolated by circumstances.
We shared what this felt like, we sympathised with each other and we normalised our experiences.
It felt good. I felt lighter, invigorated, and I could tell she did too.
Suddenly her friends arrived, then mine, the mood changed quickly. “Ok nice to meet you, bye”. I don’t think I even caught her name.
Why is it easier to share these things with a stranger? Is it pride? Or is it that when you are with your friends you don’t want to bring the conversation to a negative place? You want to be that fun chick? The cool calm collected mum who has it together? Who knows, but it sure felt good to be alone together that day.