Dear Moms, It Really Does Take a Village

We found a sense of belonging. When you have your “village” backing you up, you feel the freedom to show up as you are. Sometimes that looks like being able to laugh at the pure craziness that motherhood can bring.

As an introvert who was also living away from any family able to help with my daughter, I quickly and naively accepted the mothering role as an assignment requiring self-sufficiency. When my daughter was two, I slowly began joining mom groups in the area and taking her to every kids’ program so I could have an excuse to get out of the house. That should have been my clue that I needed to be part of a community. 

After a few meetings at my local MOPS International (Mothers of Preschoolers) group, I began to acknowledge my need for emotional and tangible support as a mom. I had made it through the infancy stage on a wave of adrenaline, coffee, and muscle memory. Now, the toddler stage had settled in and I was in desperate need of a village.

Community Boosts Mental Health

I didn’t realize how much I needed to be part of a community until other moms surrounded me. We shared the joys, struggles, and questions of motherhood. My loneliness hadn’t been obvious to me until another mom in my small group named it. She said, “Being at home with my son all day has been the loneliest I’ve ever been.” At that moment, I could label how I felt–I was lonely also and needed support. She went on to share how guilty she felt for feeling alone when her son was the greatest joy of her life. 

Before having her son, she had been a full-time government worker in Washington, D.C.–many of the women in my group had been high-ranking professionals in the city. We discussed how our loneliness wasn’t just about a desire for fellowship; many of us had a significant shift in identity after becoming moms and needed to build connections with other mothers going through the same experience.

My new friends from the mom’s group boosted my mental health, and many shared the perks of being part of the community they were noticing for themselves. 

Here are a few of the benefits I recognized once I was parenting from a place of togetherness with the other mothers in my community:

• The meetings gave us a reason to get out of the house that wasn’t just to run errands! If you know how exciting that is, then you know. A change in routine and scenery was a breath of fresh air.
• Often, we went on walks together and got our heart rates up chasing the kids around playgrounds and splash pads. 
• The most recognizable benefit of community for all of us was feeling heard. Surrounding yourself with a group who understands your struggles and knows the importance of cheering you on is invaluable. 
• We found a sense of belonging. When you have your “village” backing you up, you feel the freedom to show up as you are. Sometimes that looks like being able to laugh at the pure craziness that motherhood can bring.

“Every day when you’re raising kids, you feel like you could cry or crack up and just scream ‘This is ridiculous!’ because there’s so much nonsense, whether it’s what they’re saying to you or the fact that there’s avocado or poop on every surface.” -Kristen Bell 

The Strength in “Giving Up”

There were a lot of things I thought motherhood would be and at the top of my list were: 

1. Snuggles
2. Giggles
3. Smiles

Soon, I found snuggles usually happened after boo-boos or tantrums. Giggles came with a lot of effort–like singing my daughter’s favorite song at 2 am as her fever broke. The smiles have always been most genuine when I’ve allowed myself to let go of old expectations–the ones I set for myself and those I’ve absorbed from society. My community invited me to be among women who were different from me with different parenting styles, but gave themselves permission to simply be. The humanity of motherhood is that we are all figuring out what we’re doing as we go. There’s the lifting up, loving deeply, letting go, unlearning, and gaining wisdom.  

I still find myself leaning toward seasons of self-sufficiency when I take pride in raising a daughter who is confident, strong, and who unashamedly seeks justice for kids on the playground at her elementary school. Those seasons of strength are beautiful and they should be celebrated–in community. 

The stretches of discontentment, discouragement, and weariness are when I’m most reminded that the need for community does not make me weak, but allows me to open up to the rich emotional and spiritual gifts of women who, like me, need a village next to them through all the seasons of life.

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