I miss the village of motherhood I never got to experience

I often daydream that I am in a circle of women: sisters, mothers, grandmothers, and daughters, all working together with some common goal. We’re mending or building something. More important than the task is togetherness. We’re talking, we’re sharing, we’re laughing. We’re supporting and holding one another. Our children are running around us, busy with the work of childhood.

The visual of the women’s circle lives in my core, as if it’s a memory and not a fantasy. I often have this picture in my mind as I leave my small child at daycare each morning. Leaving my daughter feels viscerally wrong. It’s impossibly hard to leave my child in the care of someone else for 8 hours a day. It’s more than guilt: it’s a void. It leaves a hole inside of me. I’ve heard it described as a lost limb or wearing your heart on your sleeve. With that analogy, I’m leaving my heart at a daycare center.

I feel equally as disoriented when I’m home alone with my children. I am not alone and, yet, I feel so utterly lonely and isolated. Again, this knowledge serves as a reminder that I was meant to be among my sisters and my children were meant to be in a community playing with others.

Research proves that connection is everything. Study after study has shown that the key to a long, happy and healthy life is connection to other people. It makes sense, then, that when we rewind, we remember that humans have historically lived together, in community. Bands of humans working together for the common good: raising children, sharing resources and sharing responsibilities. A community breaking bread together, talking and laughing, with children playing and learning from one another. It might sound like a dream for many women reading this, I know it does for me.

The physical and mental load of parenting used to be shared. Raising children in community means that we don’t have to carry the load all on our own. If we all had our village, we could be with our children without needing to be their source of entertainment. Other children in the community could provide social interaction and companionship for our kids. We could be mothers and still hold space to find our purpose.

What if we weren’t meant to live in homes with only our partners and children, separated from our neighbors? It’s a recipe for isolation and loneliness. For many mothers, this loneliness starts with maternity leave when we are left alone with a newborn baby for most of the day. We’re left feeling miserable and like we’re failing. Our start to motherhood isn’t as fulfilling as we were led to believe.

New mothers might struggle with everything from nursing to running on little-to-no-sleep. A community of women could care for a new mother as she recovered from childbirth. Research even shows that modern mothers benefit greatly from having a trusted companion during childbirth.

Society doesn’t make it easy for women or mothers. I want better for my friends—and I definitely want better for my daughters. We may not have been the ones to decide the status quo of modern motherhood, but we can be the ones to fix it.

It’s time for us to get creative about how we gather. How can we reimagine our lives in community and connection?

A group of single moms had the brilliant idea of creating a mommune. Others, not just mothers, are forming similar Intentional Living Communities. The concept is simple- curate a community of like-minded families that share responsibilities and resources. This is an amazing option for families and, frankly, I’m envious.

In an attempt to mimic this idea, I have consulted the other neighborhood moms. My husband and I are fortunate to live on a dirt road with other families with young kids. The other mothers and I are often experimenting with ways to foster a sense of community, including neighborhood gathering and leaning on one another for school pick up and drop off. It’s definitely not as good as a mommune, but it’s better than nothing and I’m grateful.

I often go through my day missing my village, missing my sisters. I miss them when I leave my child at daycare. I miss them when I’m home and lonely. How can I ache for something I’ve never really had? Maybe this memory lives in me and in the hearts of lonely mothers everywhere.