Motherhood is heartbreaking; it’s like a sunset, beautiful and full of glow, but if you blink, it’ll be gone.
Sometimes being a mom is heartbreaking.
I know what that sounds like, but stay with me.
Hear me out.
Being a mom is quite literally the most heartbreaking thing I have ever done. And I have been dealt many heartbreaking things over my life. Some of you will probably instantly get it. You’re sitting there nodding your head ‘yes’, looking back on all the times your mom-heart has broken, aren’t you? Maybe your munchkin was downright rude on an important day (like Mother’s Day *GASP*), or they stopped wanting you to play with them? Maybe your kid became too cool for you and stopped being affectionate because it was “gross”?
More specifically, I am referring to the moment when your kid just doesn’t fit in. Better yet, none of us fit in. Husband, me, and the munchkin are all along those lines, currently.
For three and a half years, we have been tagging along for a remote assignment in a town that just isn’t military-friendly. There are no other military families and no one understands. My child, a high-spirited, funny little girl, tends to just want to be noticed and included. But this is where my heart breaks. Despite her making “friends”, other parents never seem to invite us along for anything.
“Oh! Let’s do a playdate! That would be so fun.”
Ghosted.
“Next weekend we could totally meet up at the farm for some fun with the girls.”
No dice.
“We live right across the street, we would love to meet you guys sometime for some food and fun!”
Silence.
Imagine for a minute that you have been a part of a community. You go to the events, to the local restaurants owned by families, rec league sports, and Girl Scouts for three and a half years. Anytime we have a sport or Girl Scouts, we mingle, we say bye, we go home or out to dinner. Most times we run into a group of her friends we just left, with their parents, and our daughter is sitting there looking at us like, “Why wasn’t I invited to hang out?”
At what point do you tell your child that if these people wanted us around, then they would invite us?
My heart breaks for her. Just as my heart breaks at every sunset I see.
While there are drawbacks to being near a post/base, because people are just not nice sometimes, and maybe we just haven’t found our people, count your blessings for being in an area that embraces and understands military life. These encounters with other parents that have known us for over three years and still exclude us make my heart bleed. It makes no difference to me, but for my daughter, I don’t understand. It’s hard to let your child just be a child when she gets the hard reality of life more than a normal kid.
Maybe this PCS season will be fruitful, and we will finally find our people.
But until then, my mama heart will bleed and break for my little girl who just wants some friends and doesn’t understand the nuances that come with being a military family in a remote area that already has their friend-families established and isn’t looking to add to the group (it seems).
If you are a bleeding heart mama, or in a remote area, I see you. I feel you. And I will be praying for you!
-A Heartbroken Mama, Kara Sepulveda
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Read a beautiful letter Nicole Cowan wrote to her daughter that I am sure we could all resonate with, right here: Dear Daughter: Growing Up While I Catch Up
