It Takes a Village : Why Moms need Moms
By Cory E. Kowalski, PhD | Mom & Neuropsychologist
It Takes a Village: Why Moms Need Moms
As a clinical neuropsychologist, I spend my days helping families navigate some of the most challenging seasons of their lives. I sit with parents searching for answers, advocating for services, and trying to make sense of diagnoses, school systems, and endless paperwork.
Recently, I met with a mother who has a four-year-old son who is nonverbal and autistic. She came to me exhausted. Not because she didn’t love her child. Not because she wasn’t fighting for him.
She was exhausted because she had been fighting alone.
She described being turned away repeatedly by community resources that should have been helping her family. Her son didn’t fit neatly into a specific box, and somehow that meant doors kept closing instead of opening. As I listened, what struck me most wasn’t just her frustration—it was her loneliness.
She’s a single mom. She lives here without family. She carries the weight of appointments, advocacy, caregiving, and uncertainty largely on her own.
And it reminded me of something I’ve learned both professionally and personally:
No mother was ever meant to do this alone.
This past year has been one of the hardest and most life-changing years of my life.
My youngest daughter experienced several significant health challenges. Before she even turned one year old, we spent nearly two weeks in the ICU with her. It was terrifying. There were moments when my husband and I felt completely broken. We were exhausted, scared, and trying to hold ourselves together for our children.
One day, after receiving difficult news that our daughter wasn’t improving the way we had hoped, we were sitting in her hospital room feeling defeated. The phone rang.
The front desk informed us that we had visitors and asked if it was okay to send them up.
Without thinking much of it, we said yes.
A few minutes later, the door opened.
In walked two of our closest friends carrying gift baskets, prayers, hugs, and love.
They held our daughter.
They held us.
And for a moment, we didn’t have to be strong.
Around the same time, I was trying to balance hospital life with home life. Because when you’re a parent, life doesn’t stop simply because you’re in crisis. We still had our three-year-old daughter at home. My husband and I took shifts between the hospital and home, doing our best to survive one day at a time.
One afternoon, while I was home alone, the doorbell rang.
Standing there was a friend holding coffee.
She didn’t come to fix anything.
She didn’t come with advice.
She simply came to sit with me.
And over those weeks, people continued to show up.
Meals appeared at our door.
Texts arrived at just the right moment.
Prayers were offered.
Babysitting was arranged.
People checked in again and again.
They became our village.
Those experiences changed me.
They reminded me that strength isn’t about doing everything yourself. Strength is allowing people to love you when you’re struggling to carry the weight on your own.
It’s also what ultimately gave me the courage to leave my hospital position and build a life with more flexibility and more presence for my family. Looking back, it was one of the best decisions we’ve made.
Because at the end of the day, our careers matter. Our accomplishments matter.
But our people matter most.
The truth is that motherhood can be incredibly isolating.
Many moms are carrying burdens that no one sees.
The child who isn’t sleeping.
The diagnosis they’re trying to understand.
The marriage they’re trying to nurture.
The anxiety they hide.
The loneliness they don’t talk about.
And sometimes what changes everything isn’t a perfect solution.
It’s another mom saying:
“I’ve been there.”
“You’re not alone.”
“Come sit with me.”
So how do we build community when we desperately need it?
Start small.
Invite another mom to coffee.
Say yes when someone offers help.
Join the mom group even when it feels uncomfortable. LIKE MOMMISH
Text the friend you’ve been meaning to call.
Show up imperfectly.
Community isn’t built overnight. It’s built one conversation, one shared struggle, and one act of kindness at a time.
Recently, I attended a MOMMISH trip and almost didn’t go. I brought two friends because I was worried I wouldn’t know anyone.
Instead, I met incredible women.
Women who understood the joys and challenges of motherhood.
Women who inspired me.
Women who reminded me that friendship is still possible, even in busy seasons of life.
It was a beautiful reminder that community often begins the moment we decide to show up.
So if you’re reading this and feeling alone, please hear this:
You were never meant to carry motherhood by yourself.
Find your people.
Borrow strength when you need it.
Offer strength when you can.
And remember that sometimes the most healing thing we can do is simply sit beside another mom and remind her that she doesn’t have to do it alone.
Because it truly takes a village.
And every mother deserves one.
