During the early years of motherhood, I found myself part of a vibrant circle of moms—about six to eight of us gathered weekly. We met every Monday at Sarah’s home, bringing along our little ones—some still being cradled in our arms, while others were just beginning to walk. The older children, homeschooled and full of energy, would zoom around, even teaching the toddlers how to navigate baby gates.
Each week, we contributed something for our get-togethers. The most popular dish was a tray of chicken nuggets. We indulged in cakes, cheeses, and sweet tea while engaging in deep conversations. Sarah even shared tips on side-nursing, allowing one mom to catch up on sleep, while others taught me the art of baby-wearing. We discussed co-sleeping practices, shared feeding tips, and occasionally nursed each other’s babies. This was a true mom community.
Then, Sarah relocated, and everything changed.
I once had connections through my local babywearing group, but as I stopped attending and my five-year-old son faced challenges during meetings, I withdrew. It was disheartening, especially since we had supported one another through difficult times, like the passing of a member’s child. However, when negativity began to seep into our online discussions, I quickly distanced myself.
Consequently, I find myself without a supportive mom community, and it’s disheartening.
That’s not to say I lack mom friends. I have several—one who enjoys kayaking and hiking, another who shares my passion for writing, one who never fails to make me laugh, and a longtime friend who remains steadfast despite life’s ups and downs. I have a few homeschooling acquaintances as well, but I often feel out of place among them, as they seem perpetually busy. I also find it challenging to connect with moms in a particular co-op; while they are genuinely kind, I sense their kindness is rooted in a desire to see a shared faith in me. We simply don’t share many common interests, compounded by their busy schedules.
In the past year and a half, three of my closest mom friends have moved away. The last, who recently relocated to Ohio, was one of the few I could rely on to join me for impromptu trips to Target. Now, I’m down to just one mom friend willing to accompany me. Those former friends were my go-to shopping buddies.
We used to go on these outings together, treating them more as socializing than shopping. Now, I find myself navigating the aisles alone with my kids, which is a far more stressful experience. I buy fewer spontaneous clothing items that surprisingly suit me, spend less at Starbucks, and have abandoned the makeup aisles altogether. My children lack the patience for exploring the clearance sections—an area where I used to find great deals.
More troubling is the scarcity of people I can ask to watch my kids. Before my friends moved, I had three reliable babysitters. Now, the few I trust are busy with their homeschooling commitments. I hesitate to ask them for help, knowing it would disrupt their educational routines. While I have a few friends I trust with my eldest child, I’m uncertain about leaving my youngest in their care.
Scheduling my own appointments has turned into a logistical nightmare. I have to time them around when my husband is available, especially since he usually gets home by 4 p.m. I still have not addressed a ductal plug issue in my eye simply because I can’t find a moment to visit a specialist. Gynecological check-ups, routine eye exams, and even self-care like getting my nails done seem like distant dreams.
Most importantly, I miss the collective wisdom that comes from a solid mom community. A good group has mothers with older children or kids the same age who can provide valuable insights. I need support to normalize my concerns—Is my six-year-old’s tantrum phase typical? When should I transition my three-year-old from diapers? I crave reassurance that my five-year-old’s letter recognition is on track and that my six-year-old will eventually master tying his shoes. Moreover, I long for compliments and validation, which are essential for any mom.
While the internet provides some community through supportive online groups, it lacks the tangible connection of playdates and nights out. The screen is a barrier, even though we care for one another deeply. It’s a dual-edged sword.
Creating a mom community isn’t something that can be forced; it either develops naturally or it doesn’t. I find myself trying to be friendly, avoiding drama, and hoping that a community will form around me, much like a storm gathering strength over warm waters. Whether it’s formula feeding, co-sleeping, or various schooling approaches, my only requirement now is finding someone who can accompany me to Target.
In conclusion, having a mom community is essential for sharing experiences, gaining support, and navigating the trials of motherhood. If you’re considering ways to expand your own circle, resources like Make a Mom’s CryoBaby at Home Insemination Kit and Mayo Clinic’s Information on Intrauterine Insemination can help guide your journey.
Keyphrase: Seeking a Mom Community
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