A note from Kelley, Head of Marketing at Zoe
As a stroller company, there are things people expect us to focus on, like designing lighter gear and helping parents get out the door (we'll keep doing these things!)
But every now and then, we get to do something that has almost nothing to do with strollers—and everything to do with why we exist in the first place.
Insert Mom Crush.
A few days ago, we invited ten moms from around the country to spend a weekend together (without their kiddos). They checked their nap schedules, feeding rhythms, laundry, and logistics at the door. Just a group of women who had one thing in common: motherhood.
I was asked why we did it, and said: we believe it takes a village to raise a mother.
Every day we're learning, growing, being stretched in ways we never imagined. But we don't have to do it alone. We weren't meant to do it alone. We shouldn't do it alone.
At Zoe we driven by the fact that motherhood isn't about losing who you were. It's about expanding who you are. But in those early years especially, motherhood asks for so much of your time and attention that you hardly have time to visit any other parts of you:
The friend who laughed until midnight (or stayed up until 1 AM dancing on Broadway 😉).
The woman who had opinions that had nothing to do with snacks or sleep schedules. The adventurer. The dreamer.
The version of you that existed before motherhood—and still exists now.
That was the heart behind Mom Crush.
Not to give women a break from being moms – but to create space where they could be everything else they are, too (with the help of a village).
The first night, we skipped the awkward icebreakers.
Instead, we asked the people who know each woman best—partners, parents—to help introduce them. Not with resumes or fun facts, but with reminders of who they are.
As each note was read aloud, you could almost watch shoulders drop as we cozied around the couch (in pjs and slippers, of course).
Women who had met only hours earlier were sharing an intimate moment. There was something almost surprising about how quickly the walls came down.
And then I thought...maybe it’s not surprising at all.
Motherhood is one of the most intimate experiences we can share.
Every mom knows what it's like to wonder if she's doing enough. To carry the invisible mental load. To feel joy and exhaustion in the very same moment. To love someone so completely it changes the shape of your heart.
You don't have to explain those things to another mom. She already knows.
That shared understanding creates closeness faster than almost anything else I've experienced.
Throughout the weekend, I watched conversations move effortlessly between birth stories and passions. No one was trying to impress anyone. Everyone was simply making room for one another. Championing one another.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, strangers became friends. Not because we planned the perfect event, but because space was made to connect.
We build strollers we believe in, but what they really allow us to do is (try to) build a more connected version of motherhood.
One where getting out of the house feels easier, and adventure feels possible.
But before she can travel lightly through the world, she needs to travel lightly through parenthood. And what better way to carry the load, than by sharing it with others?
One invitation, one conversation, one shared table, one walk at a time.
If there's one thing I took away from Mom Crush, it's this:
Every mother deserves a village – someone to remind you you're doing better than you think, to see the parts of you that motherhood has expanded (not erased).
And it's the kind of village we'll keep trying to build.
