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When I birthed three kids in three years in New York and California, the last emotion I expected was loneliness. I was with the man I adored. We were surrounded by new life that had come from our love. One sister lived nearby, and we had many friends. So why did I feel like our house was an island?
Parenting books and social media photos at birthdays, dinners, playdates, and family gatherings made everybody appear overjoyed and connected, but they also made me feel completely distant from my experience. Our family was nothing like those images.
We had a baby with a heart condition, one who contracted a rare disease from a tick bite, and a third who contracted pneumonia, all needing patience, love, and strength as they were born one after the other. As we grew, what defined our marriage and parenting experience was its lack of predictability and its mystery.
But I'll be honest. Raising kids made dating, maintaining friendships, and socializing anything but easy.
We had to take immediate measures to stay connected to that world, to stay vibrant as a couple. So my partner's mom stayed with our baby while we left the hospital for a date or two.
It seemed crazy, but we did it. It turns out that the habit of dating, especially during crises, would become the anchor of our relationship. Since then, no matter how tough things become, we honor our weekly date nights.
We attended different churches as a family. At church, we were given childcare, at least an hour to sit, and a chance to contemplate. Singing, praying, and listening engaged our hearts in worlds beyond practicality and parenting together. Recently, we stopped attending church, finding God in a broader sphere. Still we're forever grateful for the way our hearts were held at church by strangers and friends in our toughest times.
We also volunteered together. Hosting refugee families for dinners, weekend stays, outings to the beach, sports activities, and other events revealed how families from unimaginable crises still maintain love and still survive. These friendships became most valuable to me.
First, we had to work to leave the house. Then, we left the continent, moving our family to Switzerland in search of new, meaningful connections. This lifestyle change brought us closer, as the international community of parents welcomed us in a more open way than I'd felt in my life. Moving overseas was one of the best decisions we made for our relationship and family.
We cycled regularly all over Europe, sometimes with friends but also simply enjoying and challenging each other. Along the way, we met unusual people, like a vineyard owner who told us his life story while feeding us wine and almonds. We burned calories, sweated, ate, and drank, and shared our journeys with cycling friends worldwide.
When we lived in New York, Connecticut, and San Francisco, and our kids were little, we tried not to stay on our block. Travel could mean simply visiting a new park, beach, or neighborhood where we'd be forced to interact with new parents and observe life unlike our everyday world. When we moved to Europe and our kids grew, we broadened our travels into mountains, other countries, lakes, and seas, where our social opportunities expanded.
Pickleball is easy to learn and inexpensive, at least in Switzerland. It forces almost every kind of player to be patient and laugh a little, or at least it weeds out the curmudgeons.
We found this sport ideal for making a variety of wonderful friends. My partner's long arms and height work perfectly with my lack of both. I guess my speediness and laughter help, too. We have "a ball" on the court together and love sharing the sport with others.
Even with all of these activities (and more) we still have bouts of loneliness. This year my partner was in the hospital fighting for his life after a post-surgical infection. I didn't know how I'd stay strong for our kids and him as the familiar fear of loss and isolation descended. But we had practiced for it.
We knew how real life and authentic relationships are always unpredictable. We also knew that through the roller coaster of challenges, our bonds can strengthen, freeing us to love even deeper and seek more time out there in the wild world, connecting together.
