My hometown is small enough that everybody knows everybody--or, at least, they know your cousin, who's best friends with their buddy down at the hardware store--and just big enough to give people a little breathing room. I grew up in a tight-knit Catholic community, around Southern women who spent their mornings helping out at the church office, their afternoons cataloging our school library's mess of books, and their evenings making calls to other families to ask them to volunteer at the Bazaar, our annual fundraiser. They had dinner parties for three or four families on the weekends, met for Saturday night book group discussions, and got their husbands to run the playground Christmas tree sale. But the bottom line for each of these moms was that they were brought together and stayed together because of their children.

I remember one night when we had to be out very late to clean up after the Bazaar, and by the time all the other volunteers had given up and gone home, a group of five or six women were left to organize the supplies and put things back in the storage shed. My mom and two of her closest girlfriends, Karen and Jacquie, were loading big pieces of plywood into our pickup truck when Jacquie announced that she was pregnant with her fourth child.

"Well, daggum, that's a great way to get out of hauling these boards," Karen said. "I'm pregnant, too!"

My mom jumped on the bandwagon. "I bet you've been saving that until just now, this perfect opportunity to gab?"

They started hugging and crying, and when my dad found them they were all huddled in a pile of gooey, girly mush.

My mom and Karen--confident that they were out of the baby business--started teasing Jacquie about the inconveniences of having children later in life. My little brother was seven at the time, as was Karen's son. "See, Jacquie, it's all about perspective. Soon we'll have strong, muscle-y teenagers to do our work for us, and you'll still be chasing little ones around!"

Two years later, my mom had another baby... and Karen and Jacquie showed up at the hospital, of course, with a slew of children in tow.

- Kady (NYC)