I had just came off my forty first birthday. Hopes were high. I was going to get more serious about my diet and exercise. I had a great career, awesome boss, fantastic work environment and was pretty happy. Then, a positive pregnancy test- for myself, it was a no brainer, I was staying at home with my baby.

Having been at home with my two teenagers when they were young, the importance of raising my own child was near and dear to me. At a daycare you’re child is one of many, thrusted into a situation where they do not have you, and rely on people that do not love them. What a utterly terrible situation. Much like how we would feel, old and alone with strangers at our side, instead of our loved ones.

After the birth of my daughter, I gave my resignation to my place of employment. I had many co-workers upset I was not returning, but everyone seemed to understand.

Months went by; I settled into a routine of diet and exercise after my recovery period. I’m down twenty seven pounds and by this point I’ve been a stay-at-home-mom for almost five months.

What prompted me to write this, was a thought that crossed my mind. My husband is my best friend, he’s an incredible man and father, however he cannot be a female companion to me. Also, I am very much alienated from my family, they all reside in the great state of Ohio.

As I walked along a sidewalk of a shady path in the middle of a park, I asked myself: why do I not have any friends? Wouldn’t my walks along the river be so much more fun with someone to chat with?

I’m forty two and feel as though I don’t relate well to other moms. I like bird watching, reading, writing, podcasts and keeping up on current events. Am I boring? Maybe. I’m also busy. I have housework to keep up with, writing to do and other children to take care of.

I have somewhat come to terms with not having any friends. I definitely live to see my husband in the evenings. He’s incredibly handsome and I love our conversations when he arrives home. I enjoy my life, but do miss that connection with another mom. Someone who knows what it’s like to walk around with baby spit on your pants all day. Or can laugh with you about the shit diaper that you changed that seemed to somehow explode out of control. I think we need parallels like that in our lives.

So to this, I’ll end with-I’m not asking for any pity, but rather wondering am I the only one who experiences this friendless state of existence? Let me know.