Finding Your Village (Unhinged mum friends changed my life.)

When I started IVF and really began thinking about growing our family, one of the hardest things for me to adjust to was knowing I would be doing this without my village. Without my parents, without my siblings and in-laws, niece and nephew, but mostly without my friends. The women who have known me through every lifetime, every version of me that came before this one, and choose to love me over and over again.

Friends have always been something I treasure deeply, and I have been blessed with the best. Making friends is something that always came naturally. I love fiercely, and I choose wisely. And for the most part I've always had incredible soul sisters to move through life with.

And so, while staring down the barrel of this new season, I decided I wanted to manifest mum friends. Not just mums to grab coffee with. I wanted unhinged, wonderfully weird, not afraid to say the hard shit and support each other through both the good and bad times kind of friends. I wanted women who would love my children, who wouldn't compete with them, and who wouldn't compete with me either. Who celebrate all our milestones and hold me in the depths of frustration. And I wanted to be that friend for them.

I'm not sure whether it's the trauma bond of IVF and infertility that made us click so fast, or going through that rough postpartum experience at the same time, but knowing our babies are growing up together and we get to watch it happen, and grow up together as mums, through matrescence, as we become new versions of ourselves, is just beautiful.

So here is what I want to tell you about making friends in motherhood.

You have to go first.

I know. It's excruciating. Putting yourself out there as a grown woman feels a lot like asking someone to the school disco and cringing at yourself for hours afterwards. But the truth is, most mums are quietly hoping someone else will make the first move too. So be the brave one. Say hi at the baby class. Comment on her post. Slide into the DMs. Ask for her number before you overthink it. Every friendship I treasure started with one slightly awkward "hey, I think you're great, can we be friends?" moment. Nobody has ever been mad about being told they're wanted.

Be the friend you're hoping to find.

You can't manifest unhinged, ride-or-die, say-the-hard-shit friends while playing it safe and surface-level yourself. Vulnerability is the fast-track. Be the one who admits the day was awful. Who says "me too" out loud. Who celebrates her win with zero jealousy and holds her in the mess without trying to fix it. The energy you bring is the energy you'll attract, so bring the real you.

Choose your people, not just any people.

Because whether you like it or not, you are not for everyone, because no one is. I believe there are people out there for everyone, the people we are meant to cross paths with, the people we share hard times with and the people we’re destined to move through seasons together. There is a difference between a coffee acquaintance and a soul sister, and both have their place, both are necessary, but don't settle for company that leaves you feeling worse. Love fiercely, but choose wisely (as I always say). Look for the women who feel safe. Who don't compete with you or your children. Who make you feel more like yourself, not less. Quality over quantity, always. And know that there are wonderful mum friends out there for each of us! There are more than enough mamas to go around.

Lean into shared seasons.

There's a reason my closest mum friends and I clicked so fast, we were in the trenches at the exact same time, and we still are. Right now we’re all navigating teething and grumpy babies, and while we’re all doing it differently, we’re all there remind each other that yes it sucks but we are doing a great job. Because we often forget to remind ourselves.
Shared seasons bond you like nothing else. IVF and fertility journeys, mothers' groups, baby classes, the NICU parents, the 3am feed accounts you slide into online. Find the women walking the same stretch of road as you right now, because there's a particular kind of magic in being held by someone who truly gets it - and someone who won’t judge you in it either.

Show up, again and again.

Friendship in motherhood isn't built in one perfect coffee date, it's built in the consistency. The unprompted "how are you REALLY?" text. Remembering her baby's tricky week. Dropping a coffee round when she's drowning. Turning up even when you're tired, because she'd do the same for you. Little and often beats grand and rare every single time. And remembering that the seasons will shift as you and your babies grow. This week one of our besties went back to work, two of our babies grew teeth, one is literally trying to climb and walk, one is crawling backwards, and they’re all starting solids. One baby is sleeping in the crib consistently, one baby is trying to climb out of his and one baby refuses to sleep anywhere other than mums arms. We’re all navigating the chaos together and that’s what makes it so special. Imperfectly moving forward, together.

Say yes to the mums' group, then take it further.

Joining a mums' group was one of the best things I ever did, but the magic isn't really in the official sessions. It's in what you're brave enough to build off the back of them. That first hello in a circle of fold-out chairs, everyone clutching their coffee, their baby and their exhaustion, is just the doorway. The real friendship lives in what comes after.

For us, that meant creating a whatsapp group and organising weekly meet ups that became non-negotiable little anchors in the week. Often that looks like a bunch of mums and babies on mats in the park or coffee catch ups than always run over. And the WhatsApp group that is genuinely alive at all hours, questions fired off mid-nappy-change, wins celebrated with a hundred exclamation marks, wobbles held gently, and the occasional 4am "is anyone else awake?" that reminds you you're never quite as alone as the night makes you feel. That group has talked me off more ledges than I can count, and there is something so profoundly steadying about knowing a handful of women are in it with you, in real time, at exactly the same stage.

But I want to be really honest with you here, because I think it's the part that saves people a lot of heartache: not everyone in that room is going to be your person, and that is completely okay. Every single one of us mothers differently. Some women will have values that align so beautifully with yours it feels like coming home, and some really won't, and the quiet miracle is realising that neither of you is wrong for it. All mothers are different. All babies are different. You are allowed to take what serves you, hold tight to the ones who feel safe, and gently release the pressure to be adored by everyone in the group - or to adore everyone else. You're not there to collect all the people. You're there to find your people. Trust yourself to know the difference.

Your own neighbourhood might be the cool new hang out for mums who want to find their tribe.

Some of my most treasured friendships were hiding in plain sight, right on my own street. They started in the most ordinary way, two mums pushing prams in opposite directions, a tired smile, a "how old is yours?" thrown out almost on instinct. The kind of tiny, throwaway moment that could so easily have stayed a passing hello, but somehow, this time, didn't.

Now those same women are woven into my everyday. We meet at the park and let the babies squish handfuls of grass while we actually talk. We grab coffee on the days that feel long. We go for walks with no real destination, just company. And the thing that still gets me, the thing I didn't know I was so desperate for when I first moved so far from home, is that no one is ever far away. There's a particular kind of comfort in a village you can walk to, in knowing help and a familiar face are only a few streets over, in never having to do the hardest days entirely on your own.

So please, don't underestimate your own doorstep. The other mum on your walking route, the familiar face at the local café, the woman at the swings whose baby is the same age as yours. Say the awkward hello. Ask the small question. Your people might not be across the world or deep in some group chat, they might be right there, closer than you ever thought to look.

Let the online village count.

If you're building your village from scratch like I was, so far from home, please know the internet counts. Some of the most genuine, life-giving friendships start as a comment, a shared reel, a voice note between two women who've never even met in person yet. Don't discount it. Your people might be one brave message away. I’ve been blessed to build my online community of mums throughout pregnancy and now while sharing life as a new mum, and being surrounded by women doing it too is something I’ve begun to truly cherish. And we’re spread out all over the world. Motherhood bonds women in ways you couldn’t understand before it.

The bit I want you to hold onto.

Making mum friends as an adult, especially far from your original village, can feel daunting and lonely and a little bit vulnerable. But it is so worth it. The right women will love your children like their own, cheer the loudest at your milestones, and sit with you in the hard bits without flinching.

Watching our babies grow up together while we grow up too, into these brand new versions of ourselves, is one of the greatest gifts of this whole season. So go first. Be brave. Be the friend. Your village is out there, and honestly? They're hoping to find you too.

And a note to the women I couldn’t do this without? Thank you, I love you, you’re amazing xx

Are you searching for your mum village, or lucky enough to have found them? Come tell me about your soul sisters over on Instagram, I love a good friendship story. 🤍