When I became a mum for the first time, I didn’t just feel tired; I felt completely alone.
I was the first in my friendship group to have a baby. My friends were still living very full, very child-free lives, and while they cared, they couldn’t really see me in this new version of myself. On top of that, I was dealing with severe postnatal depression and anxiety, barely sleeping, and trying to adjust to the total identity shift that comes with becoming a parent.
Those early months were heavy. Long days blurred into longer nights, and I remember thinking, Is everyone else finding this this hard? Or is it just me?
I didn’t have a village. So I went looking for one.
That’s how I found Peanut. At the time, I wasn’t thinking about friendship or best friends or anything long-term—I was just desperate to talk to other mums who were in it too. I needed someone who understood without me having to explain why I was crying over something small or why getting out of the house felt impossible some days.
Somewhere between sleep deprivation and scrolling, I connected with a woman named Harriet.
I honestly can’t remember who sent the first message. We’d both waved at each other on the app, and from the beginning, something just felt easy. Familiar. We decided to meet up pretty quickly, which I know sounds wild—my husband actually laughed and said, “You’re going to meet a random person you met on an app?” But I trusted my gut.
From the moment we met, it just worked.
Our babies were around five months old then. We sat together with prams and coffee, talking about feeding, sleep (or the lack of it), postpartum emotions, and all the things you don’t always say out loud. I went home that day buzzing, not because anything huge had happened, but because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone.
That coffee turned into weekly catch-ups. Weekly catch-ups turned into constant messages. Soon, we were spending most of our free time together—walks, beach days, shopping trips, camping holidays. We met each other’s families. Our partners hit it off. Somewhere along the way, she became my person.
She’s the kind of friend who shows up with a warm meal when you’re struggling. The kind who listens without trying to fix. The kind who just gets it. We both love being outdoors, firmly believe that parenting out of the house is easier than staying home, and have laughed our way through so many chaotic, joy-filled days with our kids.
When it came time to think about a second baby, there was no formal pact. No big conversation. We just found ourselves ready at the same time.
Both of our first kids were terrible sleepers, and we’d survived that stage together. That shared experience made everything feel less daunting. My husband and I started trying first, but it took a while, and I experienced a miscarriage along the way. Not long after, Harriet fell pregnant—and shortly after that, so did I.
Our second babies are six weeks apart. Her eldest, Beau, is six weeks older than my eldest, Coco. And now Indi is six weeks older than Malibu. It still blows my mind.
Having my second baby alongside my best friend was a completely different experience to my first. We were pregnant together, navigating toddlerhood together, and then suddenly awake at 3am with newborns—together. There’s something deeply comforting about knowing someone else is up, living the exact same moment you are.
We didn’t need to explain ourselves. We just knew how to support each other.
Now, watching our kids grow up as best friends has been one of the greatest joys of my life. Seeing them play, fight, laugh, and cling to each other reminds me daily of how far we’ve come—not just as mums, but as people who found each other when we needed it most.
I often think about how close I came to staying isolated. To not sending that message. To saying no to that first coffee because it felt scary or awkward.
If there’s one thing I’d want other parents to know, it’s this: sometimes you really do have to put yourself out there. You’re not going to meet people sitting at home—even though that can feel like the safest option. Say yes to the walk. Follow through on the coffee. Send the DM.
You truly never know where it might lead.
For me, it led to a lifelong friendship, shared motherhood, and a village I once thought I’d never have. And that one small decision—to reach out—changed everything.
