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The vibrant sign reading “Just We Too” made my heart race as I parked my snack-filled SUV. I glanced in the rearview mirror to ensure I still looked the same as I did just ten minutes ago. The silence from the backseat led me to believe my five-month-old little one was also admiring herself in her smudged mirror.
Unbuckling her seatbelt, I admired my daughter Lily, who was dressed in a colorful tie-dye outfit, topped with a bow that I hoped would stay put. I leaned down and reminded her of our earlier talk: “Please don’t cry or scream. No hair pulling, and for goodness’ sake, if you need to go, let’s keep it contained!”
With Lily on my hip, I opened the door to the class billed as “the first step in introducing your child to social settings… paving the way for school and beyond.” The women inside were chatting, and I began to feel the heat rise. It was like being a nervous freshman on the first day of high school. Laughter erupted from a group of moms, each effortlessly cradling their babies, making me wonder how I appeared holding Lily. Another circle seemed engrossed in a discussion about their babies’ tiny fingernails.
Having moved to this town just before Lily’s arrival, I was unfamiliar with anyone except the Weight Watchers lady and my neighbors, who had graciously welcomed us with a fruit basket upon our arrival. This was my opportunity to make a friend—and for Lily to do the same. All I hoped for from “Just We Too” was a playdate and some adult conversation. I envisioned inviting moms over for our little ones to crawl around on personalized blankets while we shared coffee and talked. We had a lot riding on this 45-minute session.
Suddenly, someone lightly touched my arm and complimented my “awesome diaper bag!” I silently thanked my mother-in-law for insisting I get it, then introduced myself and Lily to this friendly stranger. We bonded over our daughters sharing the same birthday, and my anxiety began to fade as we chatted about baby milestones. She thought she recognized me from yoga class—score! I was making a friend. Shortly after, another mom approached, sporting an identical diaper bag, and our conversation flowed naturally until Miss Karen clapped her hands for circle time.
Unbeknownst to me, this was the first official gathering of my people.
The moms in the circle were just my style, and they invited me to join them for lunch afterward (YAY!). We devoured our salads and swapped tales of sleepless nights and homemade baby food as our little ones cried for more. I felt as if I had struck gold when we exchanged numbers and set up our first playdate—A PLAYDATE!
That first playdate blossomed into a weekly lunch tradition, which evolved into “Girls Night Out” dinners. Our little ones learned to walk, talk, and swim, and soon enough, they were playing soccer and dancing. They outgrew their clothing sizes, and diaper bags transformed into backpacks as our kids began reading, writing, and creating dioramas. Our playdates continued.
We celebrated birthdays, holidays, and Sunday barbecues, often gathering in one room while our kids played in another. We forged something special—both for ourselves as moms and for our children. As the years passed, we became like family. We shared every detail of our lives, from marital squabbles to health issues and mother-in-law drama. We experienced weight changes together, tackled kitchen renovations, and borrowed each other’s fancy dresses. Our “Moms Like Sisters” group chat buzzed with messages about traffic woes, shopping frustrations, and teachers who didn’t quite understand our kids.
Time flew by. Drivers’ Ed, SATs, and various “firsts” filled our calendars. We supported each other through highs and lows. Then, seemingly in the blink of an eye, our kids entered their senior year of high school, applied to colleges, and received acceptances.
Now, it’s May of their senior year, and everything in the rearview mirror feels like a blur. A wave of nostalgia washes over me.
No longer will we sit together in the kitchen over glasses of wine while our kids make TikToks or lounge on the couch together. The laughter and friendships of our children have been the comforting background noise of our lives, but now that silence is deafeningly apparent. We took it for granted, and now the absence of that sound feels like a profound loss.
It was my daughter’s “college commitment party,” just an ordinary day with my friends who had come to celebrate. My daughter and her friends were in the kitchen munching on blue and orange gummy bears, laughing and shrieking. I glanced at my friends, and for a moment, my heart ached. Sending my daughter off to college across states will be tough, but saying goodbye to all we’ve shared as moms will also feel like a significant loss. We will still gather and laugh, but it won’t be the same without our communal rhythm in the background.
“Just We Too” was spot on. It equipped our kids for college while nurturing the friendships we moms needed throughout 17 years of parenting. They should definitely add that to their tagline.
For more insights into parenting and community, check out this other blog post here. If you’re interested in learning more about the process of insemination, this article is a great resource. You can also explore this excellent Wikipedia entry on artificial insemination for further information.
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In summary, as my daughter prepares to leave for college, it’s not just her presence I will miss; it’s the community and friendships we have built along the way that will leave a void in our lives.