The Parents' Club

            My husband and I took our one-month-old daughter to Kidstuff, a local resale shop, to look for the three-month-sized sleepers.  Abigail was gaining about a pound a week in those early days and growing out of clothes quicker than we'd thought possible.  Of course, Abigail decided after entering the shop that she needed to nurse and started crying.  I'd fed her right before we left the house, but she was already hungry.

            After fishing Abby out of the baby seat and winter wrap, another family nearby said hi.  Knowing she was about to nurse, Abby started to calm down, allowing us to talk for a few minutes.  I was surprised at my newfound ease in conversing with strangers.  The mom asked how old Abby was and if she was our first.

There must be a big R for "Rooky"stamped on new parents' foreheads.  Or maybe it was the way Josh and I were both so intent on releasing Abby from her car seat as if we were the first to conquer this impossible task, or the way we discussed the best way to get her out of her wrap and where would be an inconspicuous place to nurse her.  In her questions and in her look, I knew this other mom completely understood the anxiety we'd just gone through.

            The mom then looked at Josh and I and asked, "So, you feel like you've joined a new club?"

It wasn't until she asked that I realized that was exactly how I'd felt.  We had indeed joined a new club.  Most of the time, we loved it.  As Abby grew, I felt even closer to strangers everywhere.  The grandmother behind us in the check out line who terribly missed her grandkids on the east coast.  Or the gas attendant who made funny faces at Abby in her car seat.  Or the opportunity to talk about our daughter with unmasked pride with others in the produce section at the grocery.  Of course, there were times I resented the intimacy people assumed just because I had a child with me.  But nothing has made us feel more connected with the human family than our daughter.

            Abby is now two and a half and we've come to rely on our membership in the Parents'Club.  The best benefit of course is the friendship with other parents who understand what we're experiencing.  When I feel practically insane after a day of teaching; picking up my daughter from daycare; getting home; scrambling with Josh and Abby through dinner, bath time, brushing teeth, and bedtime; and then trying to have an intelligent conversation with my husband before falling asleep grading a few papers, I know there are many others with similar experiences who will understand why I can't remember anything unless it's written down or leave two tasks unfinished because a third has distracted me.

            Despite the state of distraction and amnesia that parenthood brought upon us, Josh and I have decided to take the plunge and try to have a second child.

            Most evenings these days, Abby gets through the front door, asks for her "cherry dress", pulls it on, asks for music, puts the CD in "by myself!", and shakes her booty while playing her tambourine.  Often Josh and I dance with her.  Her favorite, and ours, is when we all hold hands and dance in a circle.  Looking into each other's faces, holding hands and dancing, it just seems there is room for another child in our circle.

            Just as we were told that parenthood would change us in unexpected ways, I've been told that a second child changes your life in ways you can't imagine.  I can only hope that's true, though I'm scared what it will do to my fragile hold on sanity.

I've become aware that there are break off clubs from the Parents'Club.  There's the Parents of Girls Only Club, Parents of One of Each Club, Single Parents Club, Parents of Kids with Disabilities Club, and probably even the Parents of Kids Who Do Martial Arts Club.  As long as there's a club for Working Parents with Two Kids Who Aren't Sure How Long Their Sanity Will Last, I think we'll be OK.

Kelley Edwards

May 2002