It Takes a Village
To raise a child it definitely does take a village, but what does that village look like? One of my greatest realisations has been that each of our villages looks different. The composition of the village depends on many factors: family structure and dynamics, financial means, the needs of your child, the number of children you have, the roles and careers of both parents (assuming both are present) and many other considerations. I would like to think that mothers feel empowered to choose who is a part of their village, but I think that many mothers still feel the societal pressure of conforming to what it ’should’ look like. It ‘should’ have all 4 grandparents, all the doting aunts and uncles, all the friends. In some circles it ‘should’ include the night nurse and full-time nanny; in other circles it ‘should’ include no paid/hired help. Another important realisation is that the village is dynamic. You can add, subtract, change and rearrange the village depending on who and what you may need at each stage of your journey. All that matters is that the members of your village love and embrace you and your child.
I am not sure what I imagined my village to look like, but over the last five years I have developed and created sub-villages which, in their unique ways, give us the support that we need. My village changed significantly when N turned 2, had to ‘take a break’ from playschool and had to begin intensive speech and occupational therapy. All of a sudden, the village was dominated by professionals on whose services we relied and who we knew where going to form a permanent fixture in our lives for many years to come. This part of the village cannot be understood by parents who are not themselves in this situation: the reliance on the input, the adherence to the schedules and the constant push towards reaching milestones. From a personal perspective, I had limited emotional resources, tolerance and time and I thus began to pick and choose the members of my village more carefully than ever before. I held close those who offered genuine care, love and support. I removed those who offered judgement and unsolicited advice. It was self-preservation and it was also the creation of the sound foundation of my village going forward.
The biggest loss for mothers during the COVID pandemic and resultant lockdowns has been the loss of the village. Yes, we could Whatsapp, Zoom, FaceTime, MS Teams, Skype etc, but none of that alleviated the burden of being the sole / one of only 2 adults in your immediate environment caring for a child/children. It was relentless, monotonous and exhausting (physically and mentally). Anyone who said otherwise was either lying or had a hidden village in their basement. Thankfully with the return to school and some extent of return to work for various people, our village has been able to re-expand to a certain degree. However, it still looks nothing like it did before COVID struck. We don’t have the playdates (for him or me!); we don’t have the same quality time with grandparents and extended family and we don’t have the same variety of extra-mural activities and weekend outings. Video-calls have replaced granny cuddles and lounge picnics have replaced family meals out. But, again, it is up to each of us to piece together a village that works best, is most supportive and that (in these times) is the safest.
While we have lost huge chunks of this physical presence of and participation in the village, this time has also unquestionably shown us who really matters. The ones who are there when we are crying in our pyjamas at 2pm in the afternoon. The ones who are there when we are drowning, failing and don’t know where to turn. The ones who will listen to us rant about home-schooling for what feels like the 173rd consecutive day. The ones who will also admit that they sit in their car drinking a take-away coffee to have some ‘time-out’. The ones who will hold your hand from a socially acceptable distance and not judge you because you are not relishing every second of being at home with your child and you gag at the thought of baking one more loaf of banana bread or one more cupcake with sprinkles. The ones who will share their struggles because they feel safe with you and also because they don’t want you to share alone. The ones who will video-call you and pretend not to notice the dry shampoo in your hair or the piles of unfolded laundry on the dining room table. The ones who will video-call you and notice that the smile is only on your lips, not in your eyes. These are the people to hold close. They are your village.