where does the mommy club meet?

I feel as if I've moved far away from my non-mother friends. Not as in, from FL to MT, or from Missoula to West Yellowstone, or from West Yellowstone to Bozeman, far away in the sense that I don't feel I have anything in common with them anymore. It's really depressing. I try to talk to them, but I feel like I have nothing to talk about. They don't care about diapers, drool, and inconsistent bedtimes. They don't care that I feel like a fat tub o' lard, or if they do, they don't understand what it feels like to so quickly lose what your body was in every possible sense--skin, size, boobs, thighs, mind, face, hair...everything is different. They don't understand. And while I feel like I've graduated from these friends, I don't want to leave them. They are all I have. I don't have any mother friends yet, and I worry I will never have friends like I used to have, because they won't know the "pre mother" me. Not here. Yes, I know I need to make some, but it's not easy when you don't know anyone and you're trying to work and stay home with a baby. I barely get dressed and eat normal meals most days. Forget making it to mommy club, wherever it meets. I didn't get the invite.
I feel unreasonably restless and stir crazy. I want to get out of town for just a day, even. Maybe I will. I'm broke, but my tank is full.
Travis doesn't understand. He asks me, "Isn't this what you wanted? To have a normal, steady life?" Well, yes, I do want a normal steady life. I don't feel like working at home with a baby at home in a town where I don't know a soul is a normal, steady life. I feel trapped and terribly restless. I try to get out. I went to the library today. I spoke to an adult for a few minutes regarding my blacklisted library status. I got off free, which was nice. I bought myself a real coffee. We took the scenic walk home. But even when I go places, I feel invisible. I feel that no one would really want to get to know me even if they had the chance. I am not sure who I am anymore. Lately I just cry a lot, get frustrated easily, eat large amounts of trail mix (that I make myself so it's heavy on the M&Ms), work, and try to keep Kincaid happy, dry, fed, and entertained. I realize most mothers feel like this at some point, but most mothers also probably signed up for this life. They had the "before children" time to get to know their spouse (and this means they actually HAVE a spouse), they went on a "babymoon" trip, they took prenatal yoga classes, they bought cute maternity clothes, had "belly shoots," and painted nurseries. They joined pre-mommy clubs that read and discussed all the latest parenting theories. In other words, together with someone who loves them and also wanted a baby, they planned it. They may not have realized how crazy they'd feel, but they at least signed up for it.
Me? I feel like every single aspect of my life and body has changed in the past year. It was right around this week or a little later last year that I found out I was pregnant. Nine months is too long to be pregnant, but not nearly long enough to prepare for this new way of life.
Him? He still wakes up around the same time (give or take a couple of night wakings), goes to work, does basically the same job, and comes home at night. Has his life changed? Absolutely. Has he lost closeness with some of his non-father friends? Sure. But one of his closest friends in town is a dad, and a great one. Most of the men he works with are fathers. Whether he realizes it or not, he gets a lot more support for this life on a daily basis. I hate playing the comparison game, but I keep going back to it. It's lethal, and I always regret it, but it's addictive.
I feel like I have to very purposefully and even aggressively seek support. No one sees me start to lose it when he won't stop crying or won't go down for a nap or poop leaks out of his diaper for the third time in an hour. Even when I do feel like I am screaming for help, it's just not here. I don't have a single family member here. I have all of two friends in this town, and neither one is a mother. They would both think I was certifiably insane if I shared half the thoughts I have.
So much has changed, and it's hard to let go of the old life. I needed to. It wasn't going anywhere healthy. It's just that I would like to have had a spell of normalcy between carefree single life and full-fledged instant family life. I feel that if half the people I knew before saw me pushing a stroller to the library, they would laugh at me.
I feel like because I'm not 100% happy, that I can't be a good enough mother to Kincaid. He's happy and well cared-for, but I am not. At the same time, the thought of doing anything drastically differently sounds even worse than the current situation. I want to be home, even if I have to work from home, too. The thought of having to get up and get both of us ready, take him to day care, and take myself to work every day sounds MUCH worse than the lackadaisical schedule we keep now. Plus, I would be forced to find real clothes that fit instead of getting away with wearing sweatpants most days. Not only would that cost a lot of money I don't have, it would cost precious sanity.
Speaking of mama's new size, that does not help the depression level up here. Yes, I know, I should be patient. I will be normal again. But these months where I am not normal feel eternal. I want to walk and exercise, but my thighs don't just brush one another anymore, they ARE one another. I feel like I have one fat thigh that just kind of sways from side to side as I walk. I want to do some of the things I learned when I was taking Pilates classes, but I don't ever have the motivation to do that alone for any length of time. All the "mommy and me" yoga classes are ridiculously expensive. As are gym memberships. I really, really, really wish Bozeman had a YMCA. It would be perfect. We could get an affordable membership and I could use the day care for a couple of hours to myself. Most YMCAs even have a sauna/hot tub. Oh, the glory a hot tub would be right now. Why doesn't Bozeman have one?? OK, so apparently there is a Gallatin Valley Y, but it's not like the Missoula Y. It is more of an organization than a big facility. Anyway. Bozeman should have one. It would solve many of my problems. Maybe. I just feel like maybe another new-to-Bozeman mother around my age with an infant would walk in the door with me, and we'd knock our car seats into one another, apologize, realize we are both wearing shirts that make our nursing pads obvious, and smile. We'd be instant friends. It could happen, but only if Bozeman had a YMCA.
I just don't get why I feel so overwhelmed and testy all the time. I snap for no reason and feel like I have permanent PMS worse than I've ever had. I'm starting to think that some mothers actually like working because it gives them a break every day. I think I'd only like working if it paid me a lot of money, if Kincaid could be in the same building or on the same campus as me, and if I only had to work, say 10-3 with an hour lunch break. Then, maybe, I would want to work every day. Obviously, that is not a choice, or I would take it. I couldn't find a job out here or anywhere but Alaska that would pay enough to merit child care. There aren't any teaching jobs to be had in Bozeman, and if there were, I wouldn't want one right now. All in all, I love being home with my little guy. I just wish I felt like I was doing a better job.
I want out, but I really don't. I just want a temporary out. I just need (yes, it's a need, trust me) maybe three days in FL near my sister, who at least mostly understands what I'm going through. I want some comfort food in the form of ChickfilA and Sonny's. I want to be around people who care about college football, even if it's the stinky Gators. I want to finally see my friend Haley's baby. For most people, this would be a fairly easy thing to come by. Since I found myself thinking the thrift store was getting expensive the other day, I obviously can't afford a plane ticket for myself and Kincaid. I'm not sure how he'd do on a plane. I don't even care if he screamed the whole way. At least I'd get there. Maybe his screaming would make the pilot fly faster. I can dream, can't I?
At least we get to drive to Boise in a couple of weeks. I thrive on road trips. I may not thrive on a road trip with an infant, but we will at least get a change of scenery, and Kincaid will get some grandparent lovin'.