What Happens When Baby Comes but Support Doesn’t: Why the ‘Village’ Is Still Missing

“You’ll have so much help.”
“Everyone comes together when a baby is born.”
“It takes a village.”

Those are the promises we’re fed. The cozy clichés. The beautiful ideas we want to believe.

But then baby comes.
And the messages slow down.
The meal train dries up.
The visitors taper off.
And you’re left holding this brand new life, completely changed, and wondering:

Where the hell is my village?

The truth is, most of us are parenting without one.

Not because we’re doing it wrong.
Not because we’re not “asking for help.”
But because the village — the real one — has been slowly disappearing for generations.

Why the village is gone (and it’s not your fault)

Modern parenthood exists inside systems that are not built to support families.
We’re talking about:

• Two-week paternity leaves

• Housing unaffordability

• Long-distance families

• Hyper-individualistic culture

• Medical systems that discharge you 24 hours after birth

• Social media that pressures you to “bounce back” before you’ve even healed

Let’s not forget: many people are parenting without partners, with complicated family dynamics, across cultural barriers, or while managing trauma and mental health needs.

The old model of grandparents down the street, aunties dropping by, neighbors showing up — that’s just not reality for so many anymore.

When support doesn’t show up, it doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of it.

It means we need to start telling the truth about how hard early parenting can be.
It means we need to stop romanticizing “doing it all.”
And it means we deserve to grieve what we thought we’d have.

It’s okay to feel let down.
It’s okay to feel resentful.
It’s okay to feel like you’re drowning.

You are not weak. You are unsupported. And those are not the same thing.

So what do we do when the village is missing?

We start by getting real about what support actually means.

Support isn’t just “someone holding the baby.”
It’s:

• Someone dropping off groceries.

• Someone texting to say, “You’re doing amazing.”

• Someone taking your toddler for an hour so you can shower.

• Someone listening without giving advice.

• Someone sending you EI claim tips or helping you fill out forms.

• Someone making you laugh when you’re on day 3 with no sleep.

It’s showing up. It’s checking in. It’s building connection — even in small, imperfect ways.

At Simple Smyles, we’re rebuilding the village — one conversation at a time.

We don’t have all the answers.
But we do believe:

• You deserve better than to do this alone.

• Postpartum support should be a right, not a luxury.

• Real connection can be built in DMs, workshops, community pages, and car seat aisle convos.

• You are allowed to ask for help again — even if it feels awkward.

Because the village didn’t disappear overnight.
And it won’t come back overnight either.
But we are out here — re-forming it. Reimagining it. Refusing to parent in isolation any longer.

Want to be part of our village?

Check out our prenatal and postnatal workshops, join our community group, or send this blog to someone who needs a reminder that they’re not alone.

We see you. We’re with you.
And we believe support should feel like home.

The Truth About Breastfeeding: It's Beautiful — and It's Hard

When we picture breastfeeding, we often imagine peaceful, glowing moments: a soft newborn nestled against your chest, a serene bond forming quietly between mother and baby.
And yes — sometimes, it looks exactly like that.

But what we aren't always told is that breastfeeding can also be something else entirely:
Raw. Painful. Emotional. Exhausting. Lonely.

At Simple Smyles, we believe in celebrating all sides of the journey — not just the glossy ones. Because the truth is, breastfeeding can be one of the most beautiful and one of the most challenging experiences in those early days.

The Beginning is Often the Hardest

When I first had my kiddo, I wasn’t even sure if breastfeeding was something I really wanted to do.
In my mind, I thought, “Okay, maybe I’ll breastfeed for three to six months — and after that, too bad, you’re cut.”

Like so many things with parenting, that mindset shifted the second my baby was placed into my arms.
Everything changed. Suddenly, my entire world centered around his needs — first and foremost.

When I was rolled back into recovery after my C-section, the nurse gently asked, "Do you want to try breastfeeding?"
I said, “Sure.”

And at first, it seemed easy. I wasn’t in much pain.
I honestly thought, “Wow, maybe this will be simple after all.”

(What I didn’t realize at the time was that the pain medications from surgery were still in full effect.)
Because when we got home... everything changed.

I remember the first few days vividly:
The pain was so brutal that sometimes I found myself thinking, “Do they really need to eat again?”
“Maybe they don’t need to stay latched for so long?”

The sucking was excruciating.
I used to joke with my girlfriends that every time he latched, I would count to 10 — and slam my foot into the ground to brace myself for the pain.

But then one day — and I’ll never forget this — I realized something.
As he latched, I didn’t slam my foot down.
I didn’t flinch.
I didn’t feel that familiar, gut-wrenching pain.

I thought to myself, “…This doesn’t hurt anymore. In fact, I barely even notice it.”

That moment felt like a sunrise after a very long, dark night.

Breastfeeding is a Journey, Not a Moment

Breastfeeding isn’t a switch you flip — it’s a relationship that grows over time.
Sometimes it starts rocky and becomes strong.
Sometimes it evolves into pumping, combination feeding, or formula feeding — and that is just as valid, beautiful, and loving.

There’s no single way to define success when it comes to feeding your baby.
The real success is in showing up with love, over and over, no matter how imperfect or messy it feels.

If No One Has Told You Yet — Let Us Be the First:

🌿 It's okay if it hurts at first.
🌿 It's okay if it takes more time than you thought.
🌿 It's okay if you ask for help — you deserve help.
🌿 It's okay if your feeding journey looks different than you imagined.

You are doing an amazing job.
You and your baby are learning together — and every ounce of effort, every tear, every moment of perseverance is building a bond that runs deeper than words.

At Simple Smyles, we're here to walk beside you.
Through the beautiful moments, and the raw ones too.

You are enough.
You are strong.
You are not alone.

If you ever need support, guidance, or simply a space to be seen — we're here. Always. 💛

Disclaimer:

At Simple Smyles, we deeply honor and support all feeding journeys. While this post shares a personal story from the perspective of our founder — who identifies as female and describes her experience with breastfeeding — we fully recognize and celebrate that chestfeeding, bodyfeeding, and other forms of infant feeding are valid and beautiful paths, including for trans and non-gender identifying parents.

We also believe firmly that fed is best.
Whatever feeding method you choose — breastfeeding, chestfeeding, pumping, formula feeding, combination feeding — what matters most is that you and your baby are nourished, supported, and loved.
You are doing an incredible job. 💛