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How one Aussie mum began a community for lonely mums

Mum-of-two Stephanie knows the importance of having a village
A woman smiling with a dog. She is wearing a hat and a pink and red shirt. The background is a cartoon style picture of the countryside.
Motherland's Stephanie Trethewey
Pic: Stephanie Dalton. Background: Canva.
  • Motherland founder Stephanie Trethewey, 35, from Tasmania, moved to the country with her husband and baby in 2019
  • Both loving the transition but also finding it hard, she figured she couldn’t be the only struggling mum in the country
  • Soon after, she launched her podcast, Motherland

Here she shares her story in her own words.

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Holding my bub Elliot, then six months old, I took in the scenic views of our family farm.

‘Isn’t this gorgeous, Bubby?’ I grinned.

A born and bred city girl, it was a stark contrast to the life I’d known back home.

Before moving to rural Tasmania in July 2019, my husband Sam, then 35, and I were living in bustling Melbourne, Vic.

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I had a job in television, while he worked in agricultural technology.

After welcoming sweet Elliot in January that year, we decided to relocate to Tassie, where Sam had grown up.

Purchasing a 500-acre property six months after Elliot arrived, we started our own cattle farm, raising and selling beef.

‘It began to take a toll on me.’

Sam worked hard seven days a week, while I took care of our son and helped with marketing.

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But being so busy and so far from friends and family, it began to take a toll on me.

I’d also suffered from an oversupply of milk and was struggling with sleep since giving birth.

I wished I’d sought counselling from a therapist when I was living in Melbourne, I thought.

A woman holding her two young children. They are outside in the countryside.
Motherland founder Stephanie and her children. (Credit: Eliza Beer)
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Here in the countryside, finding support services was a tricky mission. With few psychologists, wait lists were months long.

Having had all the resources back in the city, I realised just how much I’d taken my life there for granted.

‘I love it here, but I’m also finding it hard,’ I eventually confessed to Sam, several months after our big move.

Sam, my absolute rock, was super understanding.

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‘I was determined to make a difference.’

But I didn’t want to wallow in my pain. I wanted to do something about it.

I can’t be the only mum struggling in the country, I thought, determined to make a difference.

‘I’m going to start a podcast,’ I told Sam, who fully supported the idea.

My aim was to share raw and incredible stories of motherhood told by women from the land, to help other rural women feel less alone.

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Buying a microphone online, I was ready to record.

During my first episode, I invited new mum Chantel to be the first on my podcast, which I lovingly named Motherland.

A rural photographer, and mum to 20-month-old Travis, Chantel opened up about her postnatal anxiety and other struggles she’d been dealing with.

A woman smiling with a dog. She is wearing a hat and a pink and red shirt. The background is a cartoon style picture of the countryside.
Stephanie Trethewey (Credit: Stephanie Dalton.)
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‘What has been the toughest part about bringing up a baby on the land?’ I asked her.

‘I think it’s missing the connection with the outside world,’ she admitted.

With each woman I invited to speak about their experience, the more I could feel the burden of my own isolation lifting.

And the feedback I got from listeners was just as positive.

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‘People felt seen.’

This has made me feel less alone, one woman commented.

I finally feel seen, wrote another.

‘You’re doing so great,’ Sam smiled, encouraging me.

Shortly afterwards, life threw us another curveball when we sadly lost our second baby in 2020.

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I was devastated.

But just two months later, we were overjoyed when I fell pregnant again.

Our rainbow baby, who we named Evie, was born in November that year.

By now, the podcast’s popularity was steadily growing, but I wanted to do more.

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It takes a village to raise a child, and everyone deserves their village, I thought.

With Covid disrupting important human connections, I was inspired to create an online mothers’ group program.

Between helping Sam with the business, and raising our two beautiful kids, it took some time to build our community.

But in November 2021, the online mothers’ group program, Motherland Village, was officially launched, with the aim of connecting and supporting rural mums and improving their wellbeing.

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After joining, each mum was placed in a group based on the ages of her children.

A  group of women smiling at the camera. They are wearing smart casual attire and sitting or standing outside.
Some members of Motherland Village (Credit: Kallarroo Captures Photography)

At first I led the program, but later it was facilitated by trained rural mums. Content was delivered by parenting experts, offering information and a sympathetic ear about raising kids in the country.

Spots in the groups filled up quickly, and I was so happy to see mums just like me making fast friends from all over Australia.

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When Covid restrictions lifted, the different Motherland Village tribes were finally able to meet in person at special events across Australia.

Wanting to give back to mums doing it tough, I decided to register Motherland as a charity in July 2022.

We rely on donations, sponsorship and podcast advertising for funding.

The following May, we launched a scholarship fund that gives free assistance for struggling mums in the country.

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Everyone deserves a hand, I thought, ecstatic to be able to make a difference to people’s lives.

In addition to having made friends all around the country, my podcast listener numbers have skyrocketed, with more than a million downloads and over 250 episodes featuring rural mums!

Last year I was so proud to be named Australian of the Year for Tasmania.

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My hubby, now 41, and kids, Elliot, six, and Evie, four, are so proud of me and my big dreams.

Now that I’ve found my tribe, life on the land couldn’t be sweeter.

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