I’ve always held the belief that it takes a community to raise a child. Growing up in London, I was surrounded by my extended family and deeply rooted in our traditional Indian culture, where new parents receive immense support from their relatives. However, when I became a mother while living in New Zealand, my husband and I found ourselves far from that familiar support network.
It was during this time that I discovered a different kind of village. The expectant mothers in my prenatal classes, unknowingly preparing for life-altering changes, transformed into my new family. They, along with the new moms I met at playgroups, coffee meet-ups, and local gatherings, became my allies. Together, we shared the highs and lows of motherhood—crying over sleepless nights, exchanging both good and challenging experiences, and bonding over long walks to soothe our restless babies.
These women, who were once strangers, swiftly became my confidantes, advisors, and friends—my village. I listened intently, often disagreeing but always finding comfort in their shared care. As we celebrated our babies’ first birthdays, we had navigated the best and worst moments of new motherhood together, growing alongside our children.
When I welcomed my second child back in London, my traditional village re-emerged as my safety net. My mother cradled the baby when my husband and I were worn out, while my father played with my toddler. My aunt prepared nutritious traditional meals specifically for breastfeeding moms, and my cousins shared invaluable insights on swaddling, weaning, and, of course, getting babies to sleep.
Now that my eldest is 4, it’s been a while since I’ve leaned on the village for guidance and warmth. Yet, I rely on this community for everyday support. My parents care for my children three days a week, and my best friend, with kids the same age, always knows just when to pour a glass of wine during tough afternoons and shares stories about our little ones.
This week, however, I reached out without even realizing it. Nowadays, I find myself worrying less. I’ve come to terms with our imperfections—I don’t fret about my daughter joining us in bed nightly, or that she’s still in diapers, or that my son isn’t keen on writing. I’ve accepted that they watch more TV than I’d like, and I trust that my choices are rooted in their best interests.
Recently, though, something weighed heavily on my heart. I opened up on my blog and social media about my growing concerns for my son’s eating habits. He’s always been a picky eater, but my worries intensified in recent weeks. I decided to share my fears and vulnerabilities publicly, allowing me to process my feelings. I even typed out the phrase “food avoidance disorder,” and at that moment, I felt the presence of my village.
Although I hadn’t realized how much I needed support, I found myself surrounded by an outpouring of kindness. I learned that motherhood is an ongoing journey of learning—from fellow mothers, wise women without children, and from those willing to listen. Our village now extends beyond lifelong friends and family; it includes online connections and mothers I may never meet.
Old friends, new acquaintances, family, and even strangers reached out with warmth and understanding. Some shared their stories, others offered reassurance, and a few reminded me that everything would eventually be alright—I believe them. The thoughtful advice I received, which I hadn’t even known I was seeking, proved more beneficial than I could have anticipated. While my son’s eating habits remain unchanged, I was reminded of the importance of trusting my instincts—I know he will be okay.
The village may not make my son eat, but as it provided its support and I listened, my anxiety lessened. I found strength in the collective encouragement of my village, which has helped me build confidence in motherhood, rooted in my own beliefs and free from judgment.
The village encompasses my family, old friends, new ones, and every person who has ever shown kindness, whether they are parents or not. Its power extends beyond raising a child; it supports and nourishes mothers who need it most. It truly does take a village to raise a child—but it also takes a village to raise a mother.
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Summary
This heartfelt exploration of motherhood reveals how vital community support is for both raising children and nurturing mothers. Whether through personal connections or online networks, the village plays a crucial role in providing guidance, comfort, and reassurance during challenging times. Embracing both traditional and modern forms of community, mothers can find strength and confidence in their parenting journey.