In the summer of 2020, my oldest daughter took a surf lesson near our home in Los Angeles, and I paddled out to sit alongside her as she was pushed into waves. Pelicans skimmed the surface of the Pacific, sea lions bobbed, and dolphins even jumped in the distance. I had only ever casually surfed before, but being in the water with her sparked something in me. Even though I struggled to catch many waves, I felt mentally—and physically—challenged; I was doing something new for the first time in a long time.
I often tell people that having a third kid broke me. I laugh when I say it and people laugh when they hear it, since all things considered—healthy baby, happy siblings, roof over our heads—my son was the best surprise for our family. But it’s true. I came undone after he was born.
The pressure of being a “good mom” skyrocketed as I juggled a newborn and two elementary school children. I couldn’t be there for everyone physically, and in some cases, emotionally. As my partner was adjusting to the new family dynamic in his own way, there were days when I felt extreme loneliness, even surrounded by our adorable kids. Amidst it all I was also clinging hard to my old self, a travel journalist with the ability to take off and try new things whenever I wanted.
I eventually realized my anxiety wasn’t just from having three kids, but a postpartum effect, and through treating it I could start to piece myself back together—but I would have to go much further than carving out an hour a week for an exercise class or a walk without a stroller. Experiencing new things in my life wasn’t over because I had kids, nor was it on hold until my kids got older.
After that lesson with my daughter, I began surfing on my own a few days a week, until I noticed another mom I knew in the water. Then another. Slowly, a group of us surf-loving moms banded together and for about a year, we surfed our brains out, taking lessons, trying different boards, and wiping out over and over again. It was revolutionary for us, but it followed in a long tradition of women banding together in the water.
“There's this expression which I sort of semi-adopted, that says, ‘Don’t lose your wild,’ says Elizabeth Madin, a marine ecologist on Oahu, and fellow surfing mom. “It’s so easy to lose the wild parts of us. To have things in your life that are challenging and adventurous is really important for parents, especially mothers.”
Surfing, as a sport, as a hobby, as a culture, has long been dominated by men and subsequently, women have organized** **their own support groups and surf retreats to feel comfortable in the water, and out. Most of these groups are loosely formed, yet a few have taken the shape of proper membership clubs, like the All Girls Surfriders Club which was started in Lennox Head, Australia over 30 years ago.
For a long time though, none have answered the question: What about moms?
That’s where Madin comes in. She founded Surfing Moms in 2018, as a non-profit organization dedicated to helping moms keep up their surf game, while taking turns watching each others' kids on the beach.
“It’s unique because it gives you that support network that you probably really need,” Madin says. “It also gives you your identity back, or maybe a new identity for people who are just learning how to surf.”
This idea of surfing as self-care for moms also has a multiplier effect on the families, Madin says, comparing it to the airplane oxygen mask analogy where you need to put on your mask before assisting others. “Life can get very monotonous as a parent—it’s lovely but very taxing,” Madin explains. “This puts a spark back in the life of a lot of women that I've seen.”
Beyond the mental benefits of Surfing Moms, Madin said the group also helps members become better surfers. The meetups mean moms are in the water on a regular, frequent basis regardless of the size of waves or weather. “You go out in all conditions, because that's the window you got,” Madin says.
While the moms are out surfing, kids get to have fun too. On a recent Surfing Moms meetup at Venice's Breakwater Beach, my kids carried sand toys and chairs out to the waterline, then helped Erin van Liemt, the Surfing Moms Santa Monica chapter head, put up the tent and flag. When I came out of the water, the children had built a sand castle together, with a “pool” for us moms to wash our feet. My children had complained about getting up early to go to the beach; by then, none of them wanted to leave.
“You always hear that you have to sacrifice so much as a parent, and it’s definitely true,” says van Liemt. “But my favorite part about this is showing kids from a young age that we can get creative about combining mom’s favorite activity with fun on the beach.” She also loves the opportunity to expose her children to a “cool surfer mom village.”
Surfing Moms now has chapters all over the US, from Hawaii to California; even New York and New Jersey. Members pay an annual fee of $52 which includes a weekly meet-up to surf with childcare and access to other Surfing Mom chapters while traveling. The group is open to parents of all genders, and other carers for children.
I often wonder if I would have kept surfing if it weren’t for the moms I went out with every week. Surfing was our form of self-care. Even when it sucked—and there were plenty of days when it did—I’d struggle out of my wetsuit feeling as if I had truly accomplished something that day. Taking a steep wave was sometimes just the dopamine rush I needed.