Invisible

I've been attending church in the Frontier, in my new congregation, for 5 weeks now (minus a Sunday I spent at The Parents' house). The first week, I introduced myself, indicated Himself was still in Virginia and that he would be arriving in about a month. Other than the little old ladies, who found me entertaining, that's about the only interaction I've had.

Until yesterday.

Himself and I went to church. After the main service, a bunch people spoke to us. People asked how we were doing, how the move was going, etc. Someone mentioned how excited I must be to have Himself home. Then, on the way home, Himself tells me that the bishopric (leading lay ministry of the congregation) is coming over on Tuesday to meet us. We were welcomed.
I felt invisible.

For five weeks, I struggled, desperately trying to hold myself together. Lonely. Overwhelmed with the need to unpack and put away and just as overwhelmed with the physical limitations and pains of pregnancy. Feeling homeless and out-of-sorts.

I mentioned to Himself last night that I felt invisible - that suddenly I am "complete" because I have a husband in town, but that no one seemed to notice me before, when I needed human interaction more than anything else. Of course, I had struck up conversations on my own and never asked for anything - mostly because how do you ask complete strangers? And did I really want to be the one labeled as "the psycho pregnant woman who just moved in?" Some things are left better uncovered over time.

But yesterday's conversations and attention were spontaneous. Now comes the offers of help. The "you must have been so lonely in a new place with no husband!" comments. I hadn't felt invisible until that point. I felt like I apparently hadn't existed until then. Nothing big, just a small bruise to my independent ego - I'm not used to being so defined by someone else, I guess, much less Himself.

Practice for the rest of my life - being known as "Baby Girl's mom," I guess.