When my children were little, a vibrant group of six to eight of us gathered each Monday morning at Angela’s house. With kids ranging from infants to toddlers just beginning to explore their surroundings, we created a lively atmosphere filled with laughter and shared experiences. The older kids darted up and down the stairs, teaching the toddlers how to scale baby gates.
Each of us brought food to share—Angela had a knack for bringing a crowd-pleasing nugget tray. We indulged in cake, cheese, and sweet tea while engaging in discussions that ranged from co-sleeping to babywearing. Angela even showed one mom how to nurse while lying on her side, allowing for much-needed rest. This was more than just a gathering; it was a genuine mom tribe.
Then Angela moved away, and that sense of community faded.
I used to connect with moms from my local babywearing group, but as my interest waned in wearing my baby and my five-year-old’s antics became disruptive, I distanced myself. We had bonded through shared experiences, including the heartbreaking loss of one mom’s daughter. However, as negativity crept into our conversations, I made the choice to step back.
Now, I find myself without a true mom tribe, and it’s disheartening. While I do have mom friends—one who loves to kayak, another who shares my passion for writing, and yet another who never fails to make me laugh—I struggle to connect with homeschooling moms who are often too preoccupied to socialize. I feel a disconnect with the moms in one co-op; they’re kind but seem to approach our interactions from a place of trying to see the good in me, rather than forming genuine connections.
In the past year and a half, three of my closest mom friends have moved away. The last one to leave headed to Ohio, and she was one of the few I could easily call for a quick meet-up at Target. Now, I only have one mom friend left who can join me there, and our trips have become lonely errands rather than social outings. Shopping feels more tedious now; with no one to share the experience, I miss the spontaneous finds and the laughter.
More critically, I find myself without reliable babysitters. Before my friends relocated, I had a solid network of three moms I trusted to watch my children. Now, I hesitate to ask homeschooling moms for help, knowing it could disrupt their routines. Scheduling my own doctor’s appointments has turned into a logistical nightmare, as I must coordinate with my husband’s schedule to ensure he can watch the kids while I go. Even simple things like getting my nails done seem utterly out of reach.
What I yearn for most is the advice and support that comes from a genuine mom tribe. Having access to moms with older children or those experiencing similar challenges is invaluable. I need reassurance that it’s normal for my six-year-old to still throw tantrums or that my three-year-old is on track for potty training. I miss the kind words and encouragement that remind me I’m doing well as a parent.
The internet provides some solace. I’m part of a supportive online community of mothers who uplift one another, but it lacks the in-person connections and playdates that foster real friendships. While the digital camaraderie is a blessing, it also feels like a barrier, preventing deeper relationships from forming.
Creating a mom tribe isn’t something that can be forced; it either develops organically, or it doesn’t. I find myself hoping for a community to emerge, much like a storm forming in warm water. It doesn’t matter how we choose to parent—be it formula feeding, co-sleeping, public or home-schooling—what I truly crave is genuine companionship. If you’re up for a trip to Target, you’re in.
In summary, the search for a true mom tribe is a journey filled with ups and downs. While I have friends, the lack of a close-knit community that shares parenting experiences and offers support is a significant emotional gap. No matter how much I cherish my online connections, the longing for real-life interactions and shared parenting wisdom remains strong.