I was recently in a conversation with a group about the isolation that young parents feel. Even only a generation ago it seems there was more help, more support, more active grandparents, more community. Whether that was true in your family or not, it's clear that the more isolated we're getting the less we are stepping in to offer our help (or just do it) with young families.

I get it... this social experiment has real landmines. I can imagine a mom desperate for rest or to take care of a few tasks uninterrupted. I see her sitting at the playground watching her kid (or playing with them) but thinking of all the things that need to be done but here she is doing this now. I can imagine her trying to plan and organize things in her mind... "when we get home my kid will be satisfied with playtime, I can put them in front of a screen, wash the dishes, start the laundry, and then work on dinner"... but the thought of who can I ask for help probably never crosses her mind. And even if it did, I think most moms would think "nobody." 

Why doesn't she think of someone who could help? Because, in her experience, and amongst her friends, most people are feeling underwater. She looks around and is afraid that she'll ask someone who is every bit as overwhelmed as she is. She thinks of the people she knows and how busy they are too. She doesn't want to impose, to ask. She might also not want to feel like she can't do it, this parenting thing, juggling all the stuff. Aren't we supposed to have everything and be able to do it all? She might be about to bump into the feeling that she's failing. So she doesn't ask. Maybe she's even trained herself not to consider that an option (or maybe she was trained to think asking for help = failure). 

But it's so common to hear people say "parents just need to ASK for help!"  As if it's always been clear who's available to help us out. As if it's just because we didn't ask that we were suffering in overwhelm and silence. Believe me, if moms knew who to ask for help without feeling like they're imposing on someone else's life, they would. This wouldn't be a thing. 

So, it's up to us to offer. Or to simply step in and do when it's clear what's needed. That said, we need to tread this carefully. It can't be an exasperated and judgmental "oh here, I'll do that!" It has to be an offering, support, assistance. It has to be meeting what's happening with generosity and just the basics. No extra advice on how she should be managing herself or her child. Just help. With no judgment. 

Honestly, this is probably why people don't ask. We don't often get help. We get judgment. And when we're overwhelmed that only makes everything worse. 

Let's think of this in a bigger picture. For most of human history we've lived in tribal groups of 100-200 people. Our kids ran around, bouncing from one adult to another. Getting food from whoever had it when they were hungry. Did mom have to go over to the aunties and say, "hey, any chance you could feed my kid for me this afternoon?" I doubt it. The aunties could see when they kid needed something and they just did it. 

We've begun to lose the threads of simply tracking each other... of knowing where our beloveds are, what's going on in their lives, checking in, asking questions, bringing coffee cake over. This is what it takes to help moms these days. The kids don't come asking because they can't. Mom doesn't come asking because she's afraid to, but we can still step in and help. We can do it by checking in, by making offers, and by stepping in when we can and doing it gracefully. 

This is my prayer. It's a world in which we see and know and help one another. Where the one who is struggling does not also have the responsibility for asking. Where there are enough emotionally competent adults who can graciously step in and step back.

​There is so much nuance in this world. And I think we developed language in order to navigate that better. So, yes, ideally, ask if you need help. But if you think someone needs assistance, offer. It goes both ways.

Mothers and babies are inherently connected, so much so that to define either requires referencing the other. To speak of (or perceive) mothers as independent of their babies is difficult. It is a paradox, and in it resides the tension between mothers and their offspring.

The exploration of motherhood is a journey of understanding ourselves as both autonomous and relational beings. 

This is where feminism and motherhood can deeply benefit one another. Feminism has always sought to perceive women as autonomous beings, humans in and of themselves. Motherhood is a relational condition, though, and as such has been a sticking point for feminists.

To bring feminism and motherhood together is to make enough room to encompass the paradox of being one's own person as well as being in an important relationship to one's offspring. 

If we can clearly see the ways that mothers are both autonomous individuals and also fundamentally relational, maybe we can have better conversations about caring for moms AND children, rather than deciding one side should have more consideration than the other.

We can begin with the presumption that both mothers and children are individuals first. And we recognize that their needs are distinct from one another, then in order for each to be cared for someone else must be present.

Mothers do not get this autonomy as things currently stand, because they cannot be separate from their children's needs if they are the only adults in the room, which often happens when mothers are home with their small children.

For moms at home, adult contact and conversation is limited, and most or all of her interactions are centered on the children. 

She has no self-tending time, nor does she have access to co-regulatory adults, down time, or peer conversations. She becomes lonely, exacerbating or making her more prone to postpartum depression and other mental health conditions that are less about her chemistry and more about her environment.

Current public conversations about women and children continue to see mothers through the eyes of the infant. In so doing, they inherently focus on the impact the mother's actions have on the baby, and obfuscate the ability of other adults to contribute to the care of the child.

The mother becomes the context for the child, but ceases to exist in her own right.

Her autonomy is easily undermined when we make her the assumed caregiver. We've erased helpers, support systems, and the mother herself. It's so easy to lay blame on her for her own frustration, depression, and fury.

We were never meant to do this alone. For 99 percent of our evolutionary history there were many individuals that contributed to the raising of each child born. Parenting feels extra hard now because so much of the work of raising children and caring for home and family has fallen to women in isolation from other adults.

Admittedly, parents these days are in a difficult spot. There are few social support systems, so we rely on personal ones; family, friends, other moms, many of whom are also spread pretty thin. We cobble things together, we overwork, defer our self-care, and these are all borrowing energy from tomorrow to function today. This isn't sustainable. And it looks like what gives is usually moms. They return home when caregiving for elder parents or children are necessary (as we saw during COVID).

In my opinion, we can point to the lack of structural support all we want, but getting the government to listen is getting increasingly difficult. Even when there is a popular majority opinion or need, the government is often unresponsive. This doesn't mean political action is not on our bingo card anymore, it certainly is, but it is unlikely to go any length to solve your immediate problem anytime soon.

So what do we do? We focus back on where we have power. What can we do for and with our friends and neighbors and communities? And while it's deeply unfair to be looking for help to other folks looking for help, it's where we are right now. These are the people who understand how important it is to be together, who are willing to figure out how to navigate difference in order to go after something much bigger, community. 

This is the relational landscape we evolved in. We need to relocate it.