To Make Mom Friends, I Rediscovered My Religion

A woman, in her life, will make several types of friends. There are childhood friends, camp friends, college friends, work friends, and, for those who opt into the journey during their reproductive years, mom friends. The lattermost of these categories has always felt like a formidable endpoint—the hardest level in a game played for three decades, and a rite of passage marking the final frontier of girlhood.

Finding your community in motherhood is notoriously difficult. Until a child reaches school age, parents are often left floating through tentative playdates arranged by mutual acquaintances or chance encounters with families at the local playground. Daycare programs can feel transient and fleeting, and establishing solid friendships at the small in-home program attended by writer Hannah Pasternak’s daughter took more than a year of consistent effort.

Many parents discover that pre-existing close friends may have children around the same time, yet live far away—sometimes in entirely different neighborhoods or states—leaving them categorized in their original friendship buckets. Mom friends, by contrast, are uniquely circumstantial. They are often made and sustained through another relationship entirely: that of the children, and what the little ones happen to have in common. Such friendships are heavily time-dependent as well. The logistics can feel daunting. Can parents meet up on a whim? Would another mother like to grab a quick post-drop-off coffee? Pasternak notes that this casual routine often feels more like a staple of 1990s television than an everyday reality.

While some parents might experience smoother luck in building local connections, Pasternak found that the only reliable method for forging genuine mom friendships came from an unexpected source: returning to her religious roots.

Returning to My Religious Roots

Nearly every Saturday morning, Pasternak and her husband take their daughter to their local synagogue at 10 a.m. for "Tot Shabbat." Situated just two blocks from their apartment, the century-old building features magnificent stained-glass windows and a ceiling that shows signs of aging. While the main Sabbath prayer service unfolds in the sanctuary, Pasternak brings her toddler to a multipurpose room featuring basketball court floors. Here, children aged five and under gather on a blue carpet to play together with blocks, magnetic tiles, and toy cars.

Nearby, the mothers and fathers sip coffee and chat. After a period of open play, the group gathers for Circle Time, guided by a young teacher who leads the children in songs about gratitude and spiritual tradition, often incorporating colorful pom-poms. These weekly gatherings typically stretch until noon. Notably, none of the parents use their phones during this time, creating an environment that ultimately helped Pasternak cultivate lasting friendships with other mothers.

This experience places Pasternak among a specific demographic, contrasting with broader national trends. In a 2023 column for The New York Times, journalist Jessica Grose highlighted the decline in church attendance as potentially the largest and fastest religious shift in modern American history. The following year, Grose reported on young women fleeing organized religion in substantial numbers, largely driven by objections to traditional ideologies concerning bodily autonomy and gender roles. Furthermore, a 2025 study revealed that more than one in four Americans currently consider themselves unaffiliated with any organized religion.

Pasternak acknowledges that sharing their weekly observance of the Jewish Sabbath often elicits skeptical reactions from people who assume the practice is restrictive, overly conservative, or anachronistic. Culturally, among urban mothers of her generation, traditional religious observance has not historically been considered en vogue.

At the same time, a counter-trend has emerged among Gen Z and younger adults who are exploring the benefits of institutional religion—such as community, ritual, connection, and shared belief—during an otherwise isolating era. Recent media reports have highlighted Sunday Mass becoming a prominent social hotspot for young New Yorkers, alongside a broader resurgence of traditional symbols like the cross necklace among public figures and pop stars. Within modern interpretations of traditional Judaism, hospitality concepts like Shtick, founded by producer Jacqueline Lobel, have begun organizing curated Friday night dinners and parties celebrating traditional foods and customs in New York City, including events for the Council of Fashion Designers of America.

These developments suggest that turning toward family history and denominational traditions can offer a meaningful foundation. A place of worship, when found to be a good fit, inherently fosters local community building, often at a lower financial cost than commercial children’s activities.

Finally Finding Mom Friends

When Pasternak initially began bringing her daughter to the synagogue, the decision stemmed more from a survival strategy than a quest for community. At six months old, her daughter was a reluctant napper who grew much happier whenever they left the apartment. Barely able to sit up independently, the baby could not yet play with peers. The surrounding mothers appeared seasoned and poised, operating at a level far beyond Pasternak’s understanding of early child-rearing. She largely kept to herself, listening quietly to conversations among the veterans. Though some mothers were welcoming, asking her name and admiring her baby, Pasternak simply maintained the routine of showing up.

After her daughter turned one, the dynamic shifted significantly. A new wave of children joined the group, all learning to walk, eat solid foods, and extend their attention spans. This cohort formed her daughter’s first formal "class"—a group of girls born within the same six-month window who had dropped their morning naps and were ready to build towers and clap during Circle Time.

Together, mother and daughter found their rhythm. Invitations for Shabbat lunches began to circulate, exchanged between homes in the neighborhood. As mothers bundled children into winter coats and wiped traditional kugel from little faces, they routinely arranged to meet later in the day at Central Park. Because these gatherings occurred on the Sabbath, during which none of the participants used mobile phones for a 25-hour period, the arrangements relied entirely on mutual commitment rather than digital coordination. Arriving at the park without the distraction of texting or scrolling, the mothers engaged in uninterrupted conversation, creating a weekly routine that felt distinct from the rest of their social schedules.

This circle of mom friends now shares a neighborhood, though they pursue diverse professions. Many had not met prior to these parent-and-child gatherings, and each maintains an independent life outside of motherhood. Their communication channel remains strictly logistical, used primarily to confirm weekly meetups or special celebrations such as Purim puppet shows and Hanukkah events.

Reflecting on the experience, Pasternak views this outcome as the intended purpose of religious traditions: providing a consistent place to go with a child every week, the collective will to keep showing up, and a community of people who expect your presence. And, for those fortunate enough to find it, sharing a warm slice of kugel along the way.