When my friend Sarah became a mom, it was a whole new world for her and for me. After welcoming her gorgeous baby boy in June 2014, I made my way to the hospital to visit, brought her some dinner, and made a few after-work stops to cuddle with her little one. During those moments, I often vented about my demanding job while she listened with a smile, occasionally hinting at the challenges of new motherhood—like those sleepless nights spent nursing her newborn.
I felt a twinge of guilt for my inability to relate to her struggles. After all, she was my friend. Yet, I could hop in my car, buckle my own seatbelt, and go wherever I pleased, free of any child-related responsibilities. One day, she excitedly mentioned her new “mom friends” from a hospital group, saying it like it was one word: “Mom-Friend.” A hint of jealousy crept in—what was so special about these “Mom-Friends”? What did they have that I didn’t?
Fast forward to July 2015, when my own daughter arrived after a whirlwind, drug-free labor. The first week home was a hazy mix of sleeplessness and tears over everything from breastfeeding struggles to feeling like Jabba the Hutt. My first solo car ride with my baby was to the same new parents’ group that Sarah had attended. She screamed the entire way, and I found myself crying too.
We arrived 20 minutes late, and as I sat on the classroom floor, I hoped my daughter wouldn’t need to nurse in public. Naturally, she did, and I fumbled awkwardly with my nursing cover—sweaty and on the edge of tears. But then I noticed another mom across the room comfortably nursing her baby. In that moment, it hit me: these women were my tribe.
Over the weeks that followed, the moms from that class became my lifeline. We met for coffee before each session, sharing everything—our babies’ milestones, our personal struggles, and the physical toll of childbirth. We tackled topics from the dread of the first post-labor bowel movement to the reality that our lives, much like our bodies, had changed forever. Our late-night texts and calls became a daily ritual filled with both tears and laughter.
As our babies grew, some of my Mom-Friends returned to work, and our meet-ups became less frequent. Yet, every new stage of motherhood brought us back together, often in the middle of the night with questions and fears. Just a few weeks ago, we gathered without our kids, and I realized that my “Mom-Friends” had evolved into genuine friends.
Together, we navigated those early days of motherhood, clad in black leggings that concealed our insecurities while cradling our babies and clutching lattes. Some of us leaked breast milk, while others mourned their inability to. Now, although we’re all finding our way back to “normal,” it’s a new normal—an intricate blend of challenges and joys we’ve tackled side by side.
I hope our friendships endure through the years, filled with laughter as we reminisce about those days of postpartum hair loss and nursing pads. Even if life takes us in different directions, I will always cherish the support and camaraderie of those women who stood by me through the ups and downs of new motherhood. There truly is nothing quite like having a Mom-Friend.
If you’re looking for more insights into home insemination, you can check out this link. If you want to dive deeper into the topic, I recommend visiting this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination.