Wednesday, November 16, 2011


When I was in high school, I was a joiner. I was actually queen joiner. My list of extra-curricular activities actually didn't fit in the space allowed on my college applications. When college came, I took the opposite tack and  became a non-joiner. Over time, I have continued on the non-joining path. Then, infertility firmly moved me from being a non-joiner into a downright group-hating-girl.

Motherhood and moving to a new duty station has brought that to a screeching halt. Well, to be fair, my attitude hasn't changed that much, however I have joined TWO moms groups in the last year to simply meet some people. Necessity for sanity.

The first group I joined helped me get out of the house and dive into some Alaskan activities with my kiddo. Thumbs up.
The second group is a huge local MOPS group, that despite the religious affiliation, is not overly pushy on that aspect. Instead I get to talk with other moms twice a month while my son safely plays downstairs. We have an assigned table within the bigger group which makes it more personal. Thumbs up.

Despite the general niceties of both groups, a few things drive me nuts:

a) groups of women often have catty or high schoolish tendencies. Boo.
b) groups of mothers can complain about their kids and ramble on about procreation on a frequent basis. Double-boo

I don't know if it is my infertile scars or group-hating tendencies that makes me back away from fully connecting with these ladies, but I find myself very guarded with them. During the last meeting, a mom-with-no-filter kept going on and on about how easily she gets knocked up. And oh by the way, she doesn't want to get pregnant with her fifth kid now because her husband is deploying. My pissed off angry self thought, "shut up you stupid bitch." I know, that's totally mean. Of course I didn't say anything. Instead, I murmured my goodbyes, turned around, and left quietly crying. I was just so raw from my appointment with the doctor the day before. Yet even from this crappy moment, today something changed within our little group. One of the girls just came over and hugged me with her other friend who told me that last year at the ripe-old-age of 29 she had to have a hysterectomy. Maybe I'm not the only slightly broken down girl there.

Bonding over crappy stuff like this isn't exactly what one hopes for, but hey, it's something.



  1. I find that infertility and my style of parenting (breastfeeding, stay at home mom, not leaving my son with babysitters) stops me from bonding with a lot of other moms out there, too. It's hard. I especially find that the infertility thing is always an undercurrent when I'm around other moms. They can take procreation for granted, and I can't, and it still bothers me.

  2. I know that bonding over the shitty stuff isnt the way you want to make friends, but I actually find that it really is a good way to weed out people who you can count on when things get hard. So yay for your new friend and boo for the Duggar-in-training. I think it's very impressive that you are able to find people in a new place every time you PCS. Seriously, it's a real skill.

  3. I was the opposite of you when I was younger: In high school I was a total non-joiner, but then when I got to college and met all the other awesome former non-joiners, I ponied up the activity/group buffet: RA, judicial board, orientation leader, academic groups, a secret society, etc. It had everything to do with finding others who had similar views and feelings as I did...finally.

    Which has been my experience with the moms group as well. I joined one as a SAHM needing some interaction, and I was super skeptical and reserved, but once I opened up a little I found that 2 other moms had gone through IF/losses, and the others who hadn't were generally pretty respectful and listened and seemed to care, even if they didn't quite get it. Now I'm in a new city, trying on a new moms group for size, and I'm feeling less open again, almost ambivalent even...just like high school.

  4. Infertility has also left me with scars that will always run deep. Fertile bitches that have no idea about the gift they have been given still piss me off. You were probably able to provide some comfort to that poor girl so feel good about that.