Perfectly Sucky

Back in October, 2015, I carried a newborn Auggie in his bucket car seat through a blustery parking lot and into the doors of a local mom’s group. I settled into the squishy floor seats with a group of ten or so other new moms and smiled at the room.

Because Auggie was adopted, I tried to make jokes about how quickly I’d lost my pregnancy weight and how I didn’t have any nursing pain at all. (Looking back, I’m not sure why the other moms didn’t smack me on the spot.) At the time, I thought I was being a supportive member of the group; showing up freshly showered and comfortable- the adoption process (although not free from emotion) allowing me to keep my body and hormones intact. I shared newborn advice- having already had an older child biologically- in hopes of being a valuable and knowledgable contributor to the new mamas support group.

As the weeks went on, I watched friendships form. Other group members exchanged emails and cried on each other’s shoulders. I remember feeling invisible- sitting at the far end of a long table in the back room of a nearby restaurant as the group chatted to each other in small circles. I assumed I didn’t fit in because my child was adopted and I couldn’t share that bittersweet joy and pain of giving birth and healing next to that tiny human in your care. In hindsight, I realize it had nothing to do with my lack of shared experience and everything to do with my lack of vulnerability and tendency towards perfectionism.

I’m finishing up Brene Brown’s latest book; Atlas of the Heart, and yesterday from my favorite deck chair, I read something that reminded me of that mom’s group seven years ago. In the ‘perfectionism’ section it said, “people with high levels of perfectionistic traits:
* Behave in ways that result in perceived and actual exclusion and rejection by others.
* Feel socially disconnected and have fewer social connections.” Gulp.

I’d like to think I’ve become a better group friend over the last couple years. So here’s how my mom’s group redo would go: I’d skip the cute heeled boots and curled hair- showing up as I am because biological or not- babies are still up all night and tired is tired. I’d hold the hand of the tearful moms- remembering how hard it was to be healing after giving birth and simultaneously trying to care for a tiny fragile human. I’d admit to the group that I woke up every day for weeks, terrified that someone was going to take this child from me- and I’d lean on the group for healing friendship from years of loss and infertility.

In our friendships we gravitate towards the honest and real, the humble. I strive to be the kind of friend who nods and listens, offering love before advice. That’s the thing about having “perfect” people in our lives- on the outside, they don’t make us feel valued or needed since they appear to already do it all.

Although I enjoy learning new things and being good at other things, I pray that I am never perfect, but just flawed enough to be a friend that someone seeks out.

*** So in the name of vulnerability and imperfection, I do not have a book to recommend this week. I read a few pages here and there, but mostly nodded off to episodes of Alone on Netflix. (Great show, actually.)