Motherhood-- it’s an interesting phenomenon, don’t you think? Sometimes we think we’re a part of a not-so-secret society whose members have made a pact to support each other. When we became new mothers, we knew we could count on our girlfriends for help and support. We knew we’d have each other. But what we didn’t count on was all those other moms we don’t even know who gladly offer help, guidance or even just a friendly, knowing smile when we need it most. Like when we’re juggling a million things in a store, holding a toddler by the hand and trying to balance the baby at the same time. You know what we mean. Sure, it doesn’t happen every time. Sometimes we still get a disapproving “tsk tsk,” but chances are for every critical eye, there’s a sympathetic nod in our direction.

 
Jessica (left) and friend Kirsten (right), hiking with their babies at Runyan Canyon

MOMMY POWER

- Jessica Mortarotti, Contributing Writer

I used to travel all the time. I love the way travelers stick together. Abroad, we are all strangers in a strange land and there’s an inherent comfort in knowing you’re not alone. Now, as a new mom, I’m delighted to find a similar social phenomenon takes place between mothers. This may seem obvious, but as a young woman, I am used to my female peers being somewhat distanced and, well, not entirely friendly. However, recently I’ve noticed an amazing level of support and warmth coming from other moms.

Last weekend I traveled alone with my six-month old son to Arizona. On the days leading up to it my anxiety levels skyrocketed. How was I going to manage it all? I strive for self-reliance, but I found myself reaching out to some of my mom friends– one watched my son while I ran errands, another graciously offered to chauffer me to the airport.

In the security line I positioned myself behind a young woman traveling with her baby. She had all the same travel gear as me: stroller, car seat, diaper bag– I figured I’d mimic her, it’d be seamless.

But when I approached the front of the line, everything fell apart. “The baby has to come out,” barked a friendly Burbank security officer. “He’s sleeping. But okay.” I thought I’d at least try for some compassion. “And his shoes.” You’ve got to be kidding me! “And your shoes. The stroller needs to be folded. Flip that car seat over so it will fit through. If there’s any baby cream in here, you need to tell us.”

Frazzled, I scrambled through the magnetic arches, clutching my baby, staring at the pile of gear I needed to reassemble in the next 10 seconds. Then I looked up and there she was, the other mom! – smiling and waiting to see if I needed any help. I felt so supported, so empowered, I managed to utter, “Thank you, but I think I can manage it.” And I did.

On my return trip, back in the security line, I got a tap on my shoulder from a young woman. She held nothing but a book, so I figured she wanted to cut in front of me. Instead, she offered to help. It was her first time traveling without her young daughter.

Once again, I am a stranger in a strange land. And once again, I don’t feel alone.