You can build your own village, Mama
on opening yourself to receive authentic connections, support, and love
I see it so often on the internet, women in the comment section, voicing how lonely they feel in their motherhood, pining for support and some one to talk to. “We’re not meant to do it alone — we’re supposed to have a village.” I agree with them, and my heart aches for any mother who feels like their holding the weight of their lives alone. But beyond our romanticization of hunter-gatherer societies, what does a modern day “village” actually look like?
I’ve been wanting to write about “the village” for a while now. Not just because it’s a hot topic in the world of mothers, but I find myself in the position of actually having one. And while I think community is multifaceted and shows up in various ways, my community is an excellent example of one that uplifts and deeply nourishes mothers. Maybe there’s something to learn there.
My Village
When we moved across the planet to Barcelona, I knew no one but my husband. Two days later, my dad died. For the first two months here I was extremely lonely —dealing with my grief without a support system to hold me. Once the summer came, I decided enough was enough, and that it was time for me to seek the relationships I craved. So, I made a major agreement with myself to intentionally integrate instead of waiting for them to arrive at my door.
In the beginning of this opening, it was hard — uncomfortable — scary. I was on a different continent, in a different country where they spoke multiple language. I wasn’t sure how I’d relate to europeans, and I was embarrassed of my American accent. But I pushed through the fear and dedicated a lot of time in search of new friends. I used meetup to find events that resonated with me. I went to beach cleanups. I joined multiple women’s communities. I spoke to people sitting next to us at restaurants.
Faster than I could have imagined, my efforts were paying off. Within two months, I had regular lunch dates. Within 6 months, I had people I called my new best friends. Within a year, I was building a mother’s community with a friend who we kinda-sorta planned our pregnancies together. After putting in the work, it took me just one year to find the strongest community that I had ever had in my life.
I don’t think I could have been brought into a better ecosystem of support as I started my mothering journey. During pregnancy I had weekly get-togethers with other pregnant women to share the ups and downs of our pregnancies. Before giving birth, my friends held space for me at a mother’s blessing to honor my transition to motherhood. After giving birth, I cold-called one of my midwife’s former clients who had experienced a similar birth trauma, seeking support and wisdom, and since then, we’ve shared an ongoing, loving friendship. In my early postpartum days, I had friends make me food and do the dishes, as well as walk my dog. In one of the most profound acts of friendship, my friend held my plum-colored placenta in her hands and made beautiful placenta prints in my kitchen as I learned to nurse my baby in the other room. At 4 weeks postpartum, I began a 10-week container with other mothers and babies, the focus being on nourishing and mothering ourselves. On Wednesdays, I went to coffee meet-ups with my midwife and her other mamas and babies. On Thursdays, I’d go to baby yoga with my best friends. When I needed the next size up of clothes, I wrote in the giveaway group on WhatsApp. In these spaces we witnessed each other, gave advice, shared resources, and actually felt like we were doing this together — not alone.
I received so so much nourishment as a new mother from my community. But the beautiful thing about the village is: it’s all about reciprocity. Just as they show up for me, I show up for them. I’ve made food for my freshly postpartum neighbor, sent healthy groceries to my friend whose baby was in the NICU—knowing there weren’t any healthy options nearby. I’ve participated in meal trains and lent an ear to multiple women who had unexpected birth outcomes like mine. I’ve welcomed new mamas I met around town into the group, knowing they could benefit from the support just as I had. I’ve created “home birth supply kits” for mamas about to go into labor, and passed on the clothes that my son had outgrown for the next little community bub to wear them.
It’s not lost on me that my first year as a mother would be much different if I hadn’t had the backbone that I did. It’s easy to say that I’m lucky for having such a stout and nurturing community. But the facts are that I put a lot of time, effort, and heart into building my village. I opened myself even when it was scary. And in return, I found kindred spirits who have helped me grow, held space for my griefs and triumphs, and have loved my little boy as their own.
Why mothers need community
Motherhood is hard enough, isn’t it? From TTC, pregnancy, birth, the first year and beyond… these phases of a mother’s life are heavy and transformative. Matrescence is often the most significant transition a woman will undergo in her life, so it’s critical that we don’t do it alone. And while our partners can be there to support us, there will always be a sliver of divide as a mother’s journey is irrevocably different and more wholistic than a father’s. We need a support system of other women who get it.
In a more more general sense, human beings need human connection to thrive. The Blue Zones are regions in the world where people live significantly longer and healthier lives, often reaching 100 years or more, and doing so with vitality. The five current blue zones are: Okinawa, Japan, Sardinia, Italy, Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica. Ikaria, Greece, and Loma Linda, California. Something that each of these places have in common is their attention to community and connection. People are deeply embedded in social networks — family, friends, neighbors — and those connections are maintained throughout life. They have a strong sense of belonging, often engaging in a faith-based or spiritual activities. They share meals, walks, and celebrations. Caregiving is often communal. There's time for connection, for storytelling, for checking in.
You don’t need me to tell you how good it feels to connect with others —but the Blue Zones show us that community isn’t just emotionally fulfilling; it’s a powerful force that can profoundly improve our daily lives and even extend our longevity. There action of community is not lost to tribal societies — but it’s here, today, teaching us how to thrive.
What I consider to be truths of community:
Community is in-person. Connection is not sufficient in online groups and social media circles. Scrolling 0’s and 1’s just simply can’t replace soul-nourishing, in-person support.
Community is an integration of people from all walks of life — children, maidens, mothers, fathers, crones, elders. Community is not simply people matching your same demographic and stage of life. We have something to learn from everyone.
Community is good for children — it teaches them they have a place in this world beyond us.
Motherhood is at once expansive and exhausting — a village helps us hold both.
Healing happens when women gather. In the raw, tender seasons of motherhood, a village says: You’re not broken. You’re becoming. And we’re here to witness you.
Community is open-mindedness, respect, and difference. It’s not everyone thinking the same, living the same, and parenting the same.
A village thrives on mutual support — it’s giving as much as you are receiving.
Community is not an add-on. It’s a necessity.
Building your own village
My heart breaks when I hear other mamas say they wish they had someone to lean on— but instead, they’re carrying the weight of motherhood alone, or are surrounded by people who continually let them down. If your heart aches with longing and loneliness, know that you aren’t alone. There are so many mothers who crave connection just as you do, and who could benefit from being in your orbit.
The village is multifaceted. For me, the core part of my village is the friends I have on speed dial, or the other moms who know just what I’m going through. But the village extends so much farther than an immediate friend group. The village is the barista that know’s your child’s name and your choice of milk. It’s the mailman. The old woman who walks her dog on your block. It’s the neighbor who holds your packages. It’s midwives. Community is everywhere, and often times you have to start small to make breakthroughs. What are the names of the people you see on a regular basis? How can you relate to them? How can you make each others days a little bit brighter?
If you’re wanting to invite community in your life, I have some questions…
What’s holding you back from building a village? Is it actually where you live that is blocking you from community? Or is it self-limitation — fear? Do you feel worthy, or safe, to be received? Are you open to receiving others? So many people blame their lack of connection on where they live, but unless you're living alone in the woods at Walden Pond, far from another soul, I’m sure there is somewhere you can go — even if it means taking the kids to the next town over. If it’s indeed fear that is holding you back, all I have to say is growth is uncomfortable, and the benefits of a new friend outweighs any initial embarrassment.
How are you showing up? To have a village, you must be an active participant. Are you leaving your home, or isolating yourself? Are you having conversations with the farmers at the market or the shop owner around the corner? Are you asking the waitress her name? What about the other mama you see wearing her baby on her back? What frequency are you bringing to these spaces? How often are you showing up?
What do you want and what can you offer? Where do you feel you need most support? Do you need someone to listen? Do you need help with the kids? Do you need advice? What are you passionate about, and how can you share that with another mama? What did you learn in your breastfeeding journey? Your birth? Mama, you have so many gifts that are just waiting to be received. And in turn, another has just the answer you need.
Where could you find your people? What’s going on at your community center? Your faith space? Yoga studios? Library? Coffee shops? Your midwife’s office? If you say nothing, then why don’t you be the change maker? Who’s to say that you can’t be the very one to plant seeds in your community and get it started. Host an event in a local park and post a flyer in your cafe. Make a group chat of every single mom you know and all the moms they know, and then set a date. If I could make friends hosting ceramics classes in Spanish (even when I was brand new in the country) I have faith you can do it, too.
Without community, where are you seen? What gives you purpose? Community brings resources, growth, healing, and compassion. Community opens up our hearts, allowing us to break free from the confines of self-absorption. It brings friendship. It brings new world-views. It gives our children safety beyond us, and belonging to the world.
I understand it can be scary to put yourself out there and make new friends as an adult. But to overcome any challenge, you have to practice. In the beginning it might take consistency and a lot of heart opening, but eventually I am confident that you’ll reap the benefits as I did.
So please mama, do the scary thing. Open yourself to trust and to be trusted — to hear and to be heard. Ask for the other mama’s number in the park. Arrange a bi-weekly meetup. Tell her to bring a friend. Make the courageous choice to be loved, to be held, and to hold someone in return. Your future village is calling you, and your children depend on it too.
Go be loved, mama
Go be loved, mama and dare to be received know what you can offer and ask of what you need Go be loved, mama and tell me all your stories your joys and your confusions your every single worry Go be loved, mama your children, I can keep let the water wash your hair then I’ll tell you how we sleep Go be loved, mama and do the scary thing open up your heart for what the village brings Go be loved, mama you aren’t meant to be alone discover where love takes you you might just find a home
If you have a most loving village, I’d love to hear how you found yourself there. And just maybe, someone who answered “no” could benefit from your wisdom, too.
Your village sounds delightful. I’m so happy that you were able to and can continue to be uplifted, supported, and nourished by your community. I am one of those mothers who are still in the midst of seeking their village and you are absolutely right, this phase is uncomfortable. However, I know it will be worth it. As always, a very beautiful read.