Solidarity. It’s Freaking Hard.
Parents who are doing it alone with no close friends or family around: how are you coping?
I’ve joined mom/parent groups and met a few people. The problem is we’re all pouring from an empty cup in the trenches of babyhood, so we just don’t have the time or energy to keep up new relationships right now. Maybe in the future.
My husband and I have zero help, and we realized the other day that we haven’t gotten more than a few hours total of a “break” since my daughter was born months ago. Ideas for what you do to deal with that kind of isolation that also don’t involve the general “get a babysitter and leave” would be great.
A Post That Says Everything
This message showed up in a local Durham parent group last week. Within hours, 49 parents replied. They shared what they were feeling—tired, lonely, and desperate for a moment of rest. What came through most was not just exhaustion—it was honesty. Parents wrote about how hard it is to raise children without nearby family or trusted community. They weren’t looking for pity; they were describing a reality that too many families face every day.
Some offered small tips that help them make it through the day: walks with the baby, quick text check-ins with other parents, and trading childcare once a month. Others talked about how they miss having a village or how long it took to build one.
““We take turns doing night shifts so one of us gets a little rest.””
Others found creative ways to carve out connection: joining gyms with childcare rooms just to get ninety minutes of breathing space, bringing babies along to community activities like Pokémon Go meetups, or simply taking long walks with strollers so they could be outside and wave to other adults.
““Sometimes I just walk with the baby and breathe.””
It was raw, honest, and heartbreaking. Not because people are doing anything wrong, but because they are doing everything right—and still struggling to find balance.
“Solidarity. It’s freaking hard.”
What this post shows is simple: when care becomes something families must buy instead of something communities share, everyone loses.
We Don’t Believe Parents Should Have to Choose
At Windy Hill Play, we don’t believe parents should have to choose between stability and support, or between being present for their children and taking care of themselves.
Too often, families are forced to make impossible choices:
A parent wants to work but can’t find affordable childcare.
A caregiver needs a break but has no one to call.
A child is thriving in play-based care, but the program can’t afford to stay open.
These choices are not signs of personal failure—they are symptoms of a system built on the idea that care is an individual responsibility.
But care isn’t a product; it’s a relationship. It’s the heartbeat of our communities.
A Look Back: How We Got Here
During World War II, the federal government funded childcare centers across the country so mothers could join the workforce. These centers were high-quality, affordable, and open to all.
When the war ended, that support disappeared. The centers closed, and care once again became something parents were expected to handle on their own.
Since then, families have been left to navigate a patchwork of options—some great, some barely working. Prices keep rising. Educators, mostly women, are underpaid and overworked. Parents are juggling full-time jobs, commutes, and the constant guilt of not doing enough.
And while the economy depends on working parents, our culture still treats childcare as a personal issue instead of public infrastructure.
When care becomes a commodity—something you pay for instead of something you belong to—we lose the safety net that used to hold us.
The Real Cost
The cost of this system isn’t just financial. It’s emotional.
Parents report higher rates of stress, depression, and burnout than ever before. Care providers leave the field because they can’t afford to stay. Children lose the consistent, nurturing relationships they need most in their early years.
And communities? They lose connection.
We see this in the parent’s post above: “We’re all pouring from an empty cup.”
That phrase says it all. It describes what happens when care becomes a transaction instead of a shared act of belonging.
No one should have to pour from an empty cup just to keep their family afloat.
What We’re Building Instead
At Windy Hill Play, we’re doing something different.
We’re building childcare as infrastructure—something reliable, adaptable, and rooted in community.
Our model focuses on:
Adaptive care: Programs that shift with family needs, not against them.
Play-based learning: Environments that support emotional and social growth, not just milestones.
Sustainable staffing: Fair pay, professional development, and mental-health support for educators.
Community connection: Families who see themselves as part of a larger network, not customers in a system.
This approach isn’t about fixing childcare—it’s about rebuilding the foundation beneath it.
When we treat care as infrastructure, we create stability for families and meaningful work for educators. We make room for creativity, flexibility, and joy.
Our “Why”
Our mission is simple:
To build, provide, and support adaptive, community-based childcare infrastructures rooted in an abundance mindset.
We started Windy Hill Play because we believe care is more than supervision. It’s the practice of being seen, supported, and valued—both as children and as adults.
Every program we design, every conversation we have with parents, starts with this belief:
No one should have to choose between being a good caregiver and having a good life.
We see the long nights, the tired mornings, and the moments when you feel invisible. We also see the courage it takes to show up every day for your children, your community, and yourself.
That courage is what inspires our work.
A Shared Future
Imagine a Durham where every parent had access to quality, affordable childcare. Where educators were paid fairly for the important work they do. Where families could count on one another not only for playdates, but for partnership.
That’s the future we’re working toward—a model that can grow beyond Durham and inspire other communities to create their own adaptive care networks.
Because when care is built together, everyone benefits:
Children thrive in stable, nurturing environments.
Parents breathe a little easier knowing they’re not alone.
Educators are empowered to lead and grow.
Communities strengthen through shared trust and purpose.
This isn’t just about childcare. It’s about belonging.
An Invitation
If you’ve ever felt the kind of isolation that post describes, you already understand why we do this work.
Windy Hill Play exists to make sure no parent, child, or care provider feels like they have to navigate alone.
You can help us expand this vision.
Share our story with someone who needs to hear it.
Become part of our growing network of families and supporters.
Contribute your time, expertise, or resources to help us keep building what’s worth it.
A Final Thought
When we treat care as a shared investment instead of a private cost, we restore something deeper than convenience—we restore connection.
That’s what we’re building, one family, one caregiver, and one community at a time.
Because care is not a commodity.
It’s the blueprint for everything that lasts.
Support Our “Play Is the Blueprint” Campaign
We’re building Bacon Street, the future home of Windy Hill Play—a space designed for the kind of play that builds trust, the kind of connection that creates village, and the kind of care that honors everyone who shows up for children.
