My Village
Breastfeeding, C-sections, colicky babies, sleepless nights—it’s all easier when you don’t have to do it alone.
What is a village?
If you’re a parent, you’ve probably heard the phrase, “It takes a village to raise a child.” When people talk about their “village,” they’re talking about the group of people—usually family—who help support you and your child in some way. But your village doesn’t have to be family. It can be your spouse, friends, coworkers, people at church, neighbors, or even online connections. It’s anyone who supports you emotionally, physically, financially, or spiritually. All of these things go into raising a child.
Your coworker may drop off freezer meals. Your church might donate hand-me-downs when you’re in need. Your parents might come stay and help during the newborn phase. Your neighbors may keep an eye on your house while you’re at the hospital or away for appointments. All of that counts. Anyone who contributes to your child’s wellbeing is part of your village.
What was my village?
When my son was born, and up until he was six months old, we lived three hours away from my in-laws and 13–15 hours away from my parents. That was a really difficult season for my family. My husband and I were worn out. He worked full time and hadn’t been at his job long enough to get paternity leave, so we could only afford one week off. I was staying home full time with our baby (thank God and my husband for that), but I’d just had an unexpected C-section and could barely make it to the bathroom by myself.
My parents were able to visit for a few days and help while I recovered, but they had to get back to work. Then I was alone. At first, I napped a lot thanks to pain meds, but when I no longer needed them, the naps stopped. (I’m a terrible napper—always have been.) I was alone for 8–9 hours a day with a newborn. I managed fine in terms of the baby care thanks to my experience as a nanny, but it got lonely.
We were living in a town I didn’t like, in a dark basement with barely any light. I had just given birth and had major surgery. I ended every single day exhausted. It was all I could do to greet my husband when he got home, maybe make dinner if I had it in me, and keep myself somewhat put together. I powered through—but not without a few breakdowns and some last-minute overnight visits from my amazing mother-in-law. Thank God for that woman.
With my husband working full time, I was the primary caregiver. He helped when he could, and we were both running on fumes with lack of sleep, and I was trying to do it all on a healing body. When my son was about six months old, we made the decision to move back to my hometown where my in-laws had just bought a home. Now they’re just 10 minutes away—and it has changed everything.
How can a village make a difference?
Having my in-laws close has been such a blessing.
When our AC couldn’t keep up with the desert heat? We packed up and went to their house.
When my son is bored and needs to explore somewhere new? We go to their house.
When I’m feeling like I need a break from baby talk and want to hang out with adults? You guessed it—we go to their house or go out with them.
My husband and I can do little date outings again because my mother-in-law can watch our son. I trust her. She listens to me, respects the boundaries I’ve set for my son, and doesn’t go behind my back. That is priceless.
My father-in-law swings by most evenings just to say hi and see the baby. It’s been amazing. I don’t feel lonely anymore. Even without the tangible help they give us, just the emotional support and encouragement makes a massive difference on the hard days.
My own family still supports us too, just in a different way. They love to FaceTime and plan visits when they can. When my son is fussy or overstimulated, they help distract him with calls to family he hasn’t met yet (or doesn’t remember meeting). He loves it—and they do too.
Your village might help by prepping food, folding laundry, or holding your baby while you nap. They might clean your house while the baby sleeps. They might just offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on. There are so many ways people can step into your life and support you—and without these people, life would be so much harder and more complicated.
I don’t have a village—what do I do?
First of all, you are not alone. So many of us start off without a village—or with one that’s small, far away, or emotionally unavailable. If you’re in that boat, here are a few things that helped me (and might help you too):
Look for online communities.
There are some great ones out there. Join local mom groups, church communities, or spiritual gatherings. You don’t have to ask for help, but you do have to show up somewhere where people can offer it. If you’re always at home and no one sees you, they won’t know you need help.
Ask for help if you can.
Talk to your doctor or midwife. Let them know your situation. They may be able to point you toward groups in your area. My midwives hosted things like breastfeeding circles, prenatal yoga, and postnatal support classes. It’s okay to need people.
Don’t underestimate apps and technology.
There are actual apps to help you find mom friends in your area! I use one called Peanut. It’s basically a dating app for moms and has led to some great connections.
In Conclusion
Whether or not you have a village, hear me when I say this:
You are a good mom.
You already have everything your baby truly needs—your love, your care, your instincts. Even on days when you feel like a mess, even when you’re crying over the sink with dry shampoo in your hair and a baby screaming on your hip—you are enough.
Just don’t forget to take care of yourself. I forget all the time, even with a village. Raising children is hard. It’s not supposed to be easy.
You are strong. You are not alone. And you don’t have to do it all by yourself.
Ask for help when you can. And remember—we’ve all been there, and we all need help too.