I have a superb village, but it does not replace family

Almost as soon as I became pregnant with my first child, I began to hear a familiar refrain. “It takes a village,” my colleagues and friends told me repeatedly. I had no idea what raising a child entailed, so I smiled and nodded in response, not realizing how true their words would ring true years later.

At the same time, my parents warned me that it would be difficult to have children without family nearby, that nothing could replace family. Still, my husband and I were confident that we could raise our children in Washington, D.C., where we had settled, even though we had no family nearby. And after all, we would have a village if we needed help, I reasoned.

I started building my village very early

Without meaning to, I started building my village before my daughter was born. Another mom-to-be in my birth class invited me to join a group of pregnant women with similar due dates. Many of the moms in the group also lived away from family, and we vowed to become a mutual support system. We would prepare meals for each other after we took turns giving birth and exchange babysitting once our babies were a little older. The childless friends vowed to be fun aunts who could step in to help.

After I had my daughter, the village appeared. After birth, my daughter had to stay in the NICU. Friends brought me food, support and love. When my daughter was finally allowed to come home, we had a constant stream of visitors that lasted for weeks. Friends held my baby so I could shower or drink a cup of tea while it was still warm. Later, they kept me company on one of my many walks to his follow-up doctor appointments.

The village works, I told myself. We would be fine, even without family nearby.

My village grew as my children grew up

I had three more children and my village grew. A group of moms I met at the playground formed a childcare co-op. We looked after each other’s children as if they were our own, on a rotating schedule, a few hours a week.

Once my children started elementary school, my circle expanded. Those of us who lived far from family became emergency contacts for each other. We committed to giving up everything for each other, and we mean it. One day, when I was sick for a few weeks, some friends came to get me some food. They took my kids on endless walks in the park so I could rest and recuperate.

I have a long list of people I can text to pick my youngest child up from school if I’m running late or need backup for after-school care. There are at least a dozen friends I could call in the middle of the night if I needed help. Friends didn’t hesitate to offer to watch my husband while he was recovering from an injury and I had to leave town for work.

I’m lucky to have such a big village, but I would still like to have family nearby.

Even the best village is not the same as a family

My village is strong and vast. However, even the best village does not have the strength of a family. Some friends I once considered “ride or die” have disappeared from my life in a way my family never would. Some moved away, and others I stopped seeing as much when our kids stopped going to the same school. With others, we simply drifted apart in the natural ebb and flow of life. My village is not a constant presence in the same way that a family would be.

Plus, even though my friends don’t keep score, I’m still hesitant to ask for favors as I wouldn’t with my family. I’m careful not to ask for too much help, too often. Still, if I had family nearby, I wouldn’t hesitate to ask for more support. In many cases, family would offer help without me saying a word.

There are things I would never ask of my village either. For example, absent an extreme emergency, asking friends to take on the heavy lifting of spending the night with my kids is something I would only ask of my family.

Sometimes I think how nice it would have been to raise my children close to family, knowing that we were surrounded by people who loved them almost as much as I did and would always be a part of their lives. People who would always be ready to help. My people. Even though my village is fantastic, even though they often feel like family, it’s not the same and never will be.