Flotilla

A dear friend once sent me a message that stayed with me longer than she probably realized. It was simple and thoughtful, yet unexpectedly grounding.

She wrote, “The word flotilla keeps popping into my mind. I like to think of it as a metaphor for us grouping our ships together as we float down the river of life.”

The image lingered.

Becoming a parent changes you in ways no one fully prepares you for, especially when it comes to friendships. Life quietly divides into before kids and after kids. You are still yourself, but your time, energy, and emotional capacity become finite. Some friendships don’t survive that shift. Others deepen. And a few arrive at exactly the right moment.

I didn’t always have this kind of steadiness beside me. It took time, courage, and a few drifting seasons to get here.

My mom friends have been God-sends in this season of life. They have made hard days lighter and long days more manageable. Playdates have saved our sanity more times than I can count. On evenings when spouses are working late and the day feels endless, sharing a meal together has helped us stay regulated, connected, and human rather than isolated and depleted.

There is something deeply grounding about spending time with people you can show up with as a family. Watching each other’s children grow side by side creates a quiet intimacy. You share the ups and downs. The sibling fights. The after-school crashes. The friendship drama. The constant wondering if this is normal. And slowly you realize it is not just your child. It is developmental. It is typical. And knowing that softens the weight you are carrying.

I have a cousin-in-law whose children are close in age to mine, and a diaper buddy who is currently growing her first baby, soon to be my youngest’s diaper buddy too. There is something steadying about that overlap of seasons. About remembering what the early days felt like while standing beside someone just beginning them.

My best friend had a surprise baby in between my two children, and that unexpected timing added another layer of depth to our friendship. We were no longer just catching each other up. We were living the same rhythms at the same time. Diapers, naps, regressions, milestones, all woven together. Parenting stopped being something we talked about and became something we experienced side by side.

There is also my sister-in-law, who lives in California, far enough away that our lives don’t overlap day to day, yet close enough to be on speed dial when I have a question I can’t quite name yet. She is more seasoned than I am, and over the years she has been a steady point of reference as I navigate motherhood. We often find ourselves bonding over the similarities in our children, noticing the familiar traits that show up because our husbands are brothers. There is comfort in that recognition, in knowing that some things are shared, inherited, and understood without much explanation. Even from a distance, she has been part of my flotilla, helping me make sense of the current when I needed it most.

These are the people you brainstorm with while the kids play nearby. You problem-solve over lukewarm coffee or half-finished tea. You exchange advice, validation, and the occasional look that says this is a lot, without needing to explain.

As my friend put it so beautifully, may you find friends with whom you can group your ships together as you float down the river of life.

May you find company that steadies you when the current picks up. Family and friends you can sit with in the mess of it, where no one pretends it is easy, but no one faces it alone either.

So take a moment to name the people who make your stretch of the river feel navigable, especially on the hard days, and notice the quiet ways they keep you moving forward.