In the fall of 2016, one by one, my best friends and I all announced we were pregnant. We were all due in the summer just months apart from the first to the last baby, and we would all go on to have 5 baby boys between the four of us. We hosted each other’s baby showers, we poured over our registries together, we discussed birth plans and rubbed each other’s growing bellies. We shared our fears and our joys and even maternity clothes with each other.
And then one by one we welcomed each of our “Boys of Summer,” and we became more than just friends.
We became a village.
We shared those first few exhausting months together through a never-ending stream of text messages and the occasional get together where we knew we wouldn’t be judged for still being in the same clothes 3 days later with bags under our eyes and sometimes tears in them. We dropped food and coffee off when one of us was in the weeds, and we cheered each other on every single time we had a victory.
We traded gear as we learned that what didn’t work for us might work for someone else. And we traded experiences and laughs as we tried to figure out breastfeeding and nap schedules. We watched each other’s babies during family emergencies and sat in hospital rooms together when adversity struck. We celebrated so many firsts — football season, Christmas, Mardi Gras, Easter, beach trip, babies’ first bbq. And we shared wine … lots of wine!
We became each other’s cheerleaders and sounding boards.
The place where we could be our best and worst selves and still be loved and celebrated regardless. We have found that our love for these boys is so vast and so all encompassing. They are loved on and loved up without competition or judgement. They are all OUR boys.
Motherhood is oh so beautiful and oh so tough. I’m so grateful to have a whole team to celebrate with and to lean on throughout this journey. And I’m so proud to raise our boys in a community filled with so many adults and kids to walk along with them.
The “boys of summer” have all turned one, and we have all earned our mom merit badges for surviving the first year. One of our boys has moved to North Carolina, and the return to jobs and the pull of life with older kids will no doubt push us in different directions. But, this shared experience of getting our feet under us will bind us together no matter the time or distance. When I reminisce on the baby days, “the boys of summer” and their moms will always be a part of our story.