The Chaos Feels Lighter With Mum Friends by Your Side

“Find your village. They’re the ones who make the chaos lighter.”

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👯‍♀️ From Lifelong Friends to Mum Friends: How My Circle Grew With Me

I was the first one. The first to get married. The first to have a baby. And honestly? I was terrified. I thought that stepping into motherhood meant I’d lose my friends — that our lives would suddenly exist on opposite sides of the glass. They’d still be out for cocktails, and I’d be home, leaking through my shirt and Googling “Can I pump while I sleep?”

But I didn’t lose them. Not even close.

E (my ride-or-die since I was two), A (since high school), and I somehow ended up syncing our lives like our own little version of the motherhood moon cycle. E had her first little boy six months after I had Leonardo, and now our boys are best mates — little chaos twins who somehow manage to destroy a room faster than we can say “put that down!”

Then, the second time around, the universe really went for the group chat content: E, A, and I all fell pregnant within months of each other. Three bumps, two trimesters of daily memes on Instagram, and a lifetime of memories later — our babies arrived one by one: M, then my Massimo, then baby J. It was one of those rare, pinch-me seasons where everything just felt aligned — like I was meant to be doing this alongside them.

Motherhood isn’t meant to be a solo sport.

Now, we talk or see each other almost every week — playdates at the park, coffee catch-ups with cold cups we still call “hot,” and the kind of text threads that start with “what the hell is happening with sleep regression?” and end with memes about wine. If we miss a week, it’s fine — because when we reconnect, it’s like no time has passed. That’s the kind of friendship that doesn’t need a calendar reminder; it just exists.

My boys know them as their “Aunties.” They’re safe, familiar faces — the kind of women I’d trust in a heartbeat to scoop up my kids, wipe their tears, and call me only after everyone’s calm.

And then there’s my soccer crew — K, K, and M — another little village of mums whose kids grew up right alongside mine. Between the three of them, there’s always a new baby being born or a toddler tantrum to laugh (or cry) about. When we do catch up, it’s chaos in motion — swings creaking, snacks flying, someone inevitably face-planting — but the conversation somehow still finds its rhythm.

Across both these groups, I’ve become somewhat of a go-to for parenting advice — not because I’ve got it all figured out (spoiler: I don’t), but because I’ll always share what’s real. If I’ve been there, I’ll tell it straight. If I haven’t, I’ll listen and learn. That’s the beauty of these friendships — they’re built on honesty, humour, and the quiet understanding that we’re all just trying to survive this wild, wonderful season together.

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☕ In the Trenches Together: What True Mum Friendship Looks Like

It’s not one big, movie-moment kind of thing. It’s the series of small, ordinary things that make my mum friends my lifeline.

It’s the coffees and babycinos shouted during a playground catch-up where no one actually sits down for longer than 30 seconds. It’s the late-night group chat memes when we’re all up feeding or mentally debriefing the day. It’s making freezer meals for each other before giving birth so at least one dinner that week won’t end in tears (ours or the kids’). And it’s just… being there. Through the emotional fragility, the exhaustion, and the “I can’t do this today” texts that always seem to come right when you need them most.

There’s something grounding about knowing there are other women walking this same stretch of motherhood right beside you. When we share our struggles or our wins — the teething dramas, the school drop-off chaos, the tiny victories like a full night’s sleep — it reminds me that none of this is just me. It’s universal. Messy, beautiful, universal.

It’s not the big gestures — it’s the small, ordinary moments that make mum friends your lifeline.

The best mum friends aren’t defined by picture-perfect traits but by what they choose to do — carving out time for each other (even if it’s just five minutes worth of a phone call), showing up honestly (no filters, no perfection required), and listening without judgement. Because let’s be real: what’s a “win” for one mum might look completely different for another. For one, it’s making it three months breastfeeding. For another, it’s two years. For one, it’s one night wake-up. For another, it’s surviving three. It’s not a competition. It’s lived experience — and it’s all valid.

I like to think (and really hope) that I’m that kind of mum friend too — the one who says it how it is, who offers a cup of tea and a homemade treat in my meticulously tidy home while internally screaming about the mess the kids are making. The one who gives the kids a baking activity just so the mums can exhale for five minutes on the couch. The one who listens, cheers, and celebrates the tiny, hard-won victories.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what we all need — someone in our corner whispering, “You’re doing amazing, Mama,” even when we can’t see it ourselves.

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🌿 The New Village: Redefining Connection in Motherhood

The friendships I’ve sustained through motherhood are honestly the strongest ones yet. They can survive the month-long hiatuses and pick straight back up with poop-cident stories and teething updates like no time has passed.

These are the friendships that give me confidence in my parenting — and myself.

They’re the ones that remind me I’m not failing, I’m just human. They make me feel part of something bigger — a village. Sure, it might not look like the old-school, everyone-on-the-same-street kind of village, but it’s my chosen one. My chosen sisters. The ones who walk alongside me and make motherhood feel lighter, softer, and less terrifying on the hard days.

And while social media makes it seem like friendship means constant connection, the truth is: it’s not 90s three-way phone calls anymore. It’s the odd meme that says “this is so us,” a random “thought of you” text, or a flurry of group-chat dates that never quite stick because… life. It’s messy, inconsistent, and real — and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your village doesn’t have to look traditional — sometimes it’s a few strong women and a group chat full of chaos.

I can’t imagine what life would be like without my girlfriends. But if I had to start from scratch? I’d begin with the places that make connection feel natural — antenatal classes, mum groups, and baby activities.

During my second pregnancy, I made an effort to do antenatal Pilates and hydrotherapy as a bit of pre-baby group connection with the girls (E and A) - It was what our catchups and girly dates now looked like. A far cry from the clubs and heels of our 20's. Those classes where we were surrounded by other ladies in the same boat as us, were such a grounding experience. Sharing swollen-ankle woes and bizarre cravings with women who were in it too was therapy in itself. I’m sure Ilija was over hearing about my latest craving or backache, but these women got it. Every “ugh, same” landed like a hug.

Then there are the mother’s groups — the ones the child health nurse sets up once your baby’s born. They can be hit or miss, sure, but my second time around I struck gold. We met up for park dates and library visits, and it felt like having teammates in the newborn trenches.

And don’t underestimate the magic of baby classes — messy play, art sessions, swimming lessons. I still keep in touch with a few mums from Leonardo’s first swim class when he was just eight weeks old. Nothing bonds you like trying to keep a baby from drinking pool water while singing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.”

Now that Leonardo’s nearly five, I’ve got a new layer to the mum circle — school mums and sporting mums. School mums who get the drop-off chaos and 'when is library day' texts, and sport mums who stand beside you at 8 a.m. in five layers of thermals, coffee in hand, yelling “kick and pass!” while pretending we’re all awake.

These are the opportunities. The moments where connection can grow — if you’re open to it.

Because yes, it can feel daunting to put yourself out there. To start a conversation or suggest a playdate. But once you find your people — the ones who get it — motherhood becomes lighter. The chaos becomes shared. And at the end of the day, that’s what we all need: to know we’re not doing this alone.

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🥂🍾 Here’s to the Mum Friends Who Keep Us Going

Motherhood is beautiful, but it’s also brutal — and trying to do it without a support system is like trying to push a pram uphill in heels. You can do it, sure, but why would you want to?

Having mum friends doesn’t mean you need a full-blown girl gang or a diary full of playdates. It means having a handful of women who just get it. The ones who don’t judge the pile of unfolded laundry on the couch. The ones who answer your “I’m not coping” text with “I’ll bring coffee.” The ones who remind you that your best is enough.

You don’t need a girl gang; you need the ones who just get it.

If you’ve already found your people — cherish them. Text them. Thank them. And if you haven’t yet, don’t lose hope, Mama. Your village is out there — at the baby swim class, at the playground, at school drop-off, or even in the DMs of another tired mum who laughs at the same reels you do.

Because the truth is, we were never meant to do this alone.

So here’s to the mum friends — the real ones — the ones who see you, love you, and make the chaos a little lighter.

💙💚 Mama Interrupted PS. for E & A: This is article is inspired by you - thank you for loving my boys as your own and for being there for, and loving me in the ways that you do. I just want to let you know that I appreciate you and love you. ♥️ If you resonated with this Mama Interrupted article - maybe you might resonate with my other content also. Consider subscribing to get them straight to your inbox!

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