BUILDING VILLAGE

We’ve been thinking about the ways mothers are constantly measured—and how deeply anti-mother it really is.

From how we feed and birth to how we school and rest, the world seems to always be watching. But so often, it’s not to offer support—it’s to offer judgment. And that quiet belief that there’s a “right” way to do this? It sneaks in everywhere: through pediatrician appointments, playground chatter, family pressure, and the scroll of social media.

It’s an illusion that creates invisible ladders of “better” and “best,” and so many of us have climbed or descended them through comparison, shame, and fear. Suddenly, the sacred act of raising a child becomes something to prove. And our deeply personal choices—natural birth or hospital, breast or bottle, screens or no screens, homeschooling or public school—become measuring sticks for another woman’s worth.

But the issue isn’t the choices.
It’s what we do with them.

We’re both mothers who lean into a more holistic path these days—choosing what feels natural and intuitive for our families. It’s what resonates for us, and we honor that our rhythm may not look like anyone else’s.

And many of us—ourselves included—have made choices we would do differently now, knowing what we know. That’s the nature of this path. We grow in clarity over time. We don’t mother from a perfect place. We mother from the season we’re in, with the knowledge, capacity, and support we have in that moment.

And this is where privilege comes in—a word that can feel uncomfortable, but must be named with tenderness and truth.

Because not all mothers have access to the same choices. Homeschooling, extended breastfeeding, birthing with a midwife—these often require time, financial flexibility, a partner, or a village. And while these choices can be deeply intentional and sacrificial, the fact that we’re able to make them at all is a gift we rarely name.

What would it mean to hold both?
The honor of our devotion and the awareness of our access.
The pride in our path and the humility that not every mother has the same road.

Because when we begin with reverence for one another’s reality,
we stop projecting shame, and we start building true support.

Motherhood was never meant to be a performance or a competition of ideals.
It was always meant to be a village.
A space where each mother feels supported, dignified, and empowered to do find her way.

So what if we stopped measuring—and started meeting each other?

Not with critique, but with care.
Not with pressure, but with presence.
Not with judgment, but with curiosity.

The greatest gift we can give a mother isn’t advice or opinions.
It’s the encouragement to trust herself.
To return to her inner knowing.
To mother from her own rhythm.
To be the expert of her baby, her body, her season.

And yes—healing, growth, and change are part of this path.
But they must be born from safety, not shame.

We believe that supporting mothers means more than sharing opinions. It means creating spaces of unshaming. It means offering tools, time, knowledge, and access—so that every mother has what she needs to choose from wholeness, not scarcity.

This is the work—not just shifting mindsets, but reshaping systems, beginning within our own circles. This is how we reclaim motherhood as the sacred and sovereign journey it’s meant to be. This is how we begin to build a true village.

With love,

Kara and Mel