Not long ago, I sat in a meeting where each person’s professional accomplishments were being highlighted — titles, credentials, years of experience carefully cataloged. Then someone paused, smiled, and added, “And then there’s Megan…the aviation mom.”
At first, I bristled.
It wasn’t said dismissively. Quite the opposite. It was meant as high praise. And the more I sat with it, the more I realized something simple and true: That is exactly who I am.
What does it mean to be an aviation mom?
At its core, aviation is a family. When our boys were small, we were welcomed into that family by a group of extraordinary women who took us under their wings without hesitation. They made sure there was always extra food at fly-ins. They entertained toddlers, rocked babies, kept watchful eyes on curious little ones near spinning props, and created spaces where our boys felt seen, safe, and included.
Years later, they are still showing up.
They send birthday cards and texts of encouragement. They celebrate first solos and mark milestones — both big and small. Their presence hasn’t faded — it has deepened, evolving alongside the lives they continue to touch.
In an increasingly digital world, these women are doing something profoundly important: They are bringing people together in real life. Through gatherings like Third Thursday get togethers at Mason City Municipal Airport in Iowa, Marginal Aviation’s First Ditch Fly-In in Minnesota, fly-ins at Iowa’s Antique Airfield, and the Brodhead Grassroots Fly-In in Wisconsin, and through communities formed around events like EAA AirVenture Oshkosh and SUN ’n FUN, they create spaces where pilots and their families can connect, belong, and grow.
Quietly and consistently, they are shaping the next generation of aviators — not just by supporting them, but by surrounding them with community.
A close second to community building is something just as vital: Connection.
An aviation mom is often the thread that holds the fabric together. She reads the room. She notices what isn’t said. She listens, truly listens. She bridges gaps, brings people together, and offers empathy when it’s needed most. She becomes a sounding board, a cheerleader, a confidant and, at times, a steady hand when uncertainty creeps in.
In my own work with COPA University (Cirrus Owners and Pilots Association) and at our FBO and flight school at Pella Municipal Airport (KPEA) in Iowa, I’ve stepped into that role more times than I can count. I’ve become a safe place for our flight instructors, a space where they can brainstorm, vent, seek advice, or simply feel heard. Sometimes it’s about solving a problem; other times, it’s just about being present. I’ve made it a priority to know my team not only as professionals, but as people — to understand what drives them, what challenges them, and what motivates them. Occasionally, that motivation comes in the form of a cherry doughnut hole, an oatmeal cookie, or a slice of banana bread.
Over the years, we’ve helped launch the careers of many pilots who began their journeys with us as flight instructors. Watching them move on is bittersweet. In many ways, it mirrors raising children. It’s “grown and flown.” You prepare them as best you can, then hold your breath as they step out to make their mark on the world. What a gift it is to watch them earn their first type rating, upgrade to captain, and become mentors themselves.
For our boys, it’s been something even more special. Along the way, they’ve gained a collection of “older brothers,” mentors, and role models who have left a lasting imprint. Even after these instructors move on, many find ways to stay connected, maintaining those bonds across time and distance.
In truth, it’s not so different from what happens at home.
The same instincts that guide me as a mother show up here: Paying attention to the small details, offering encouragement at just the right moment, making sure people have the tools they need to succeed, standing behind their decisions, and creating an environment where they can thrive. Above all, it’s about making people feel seen and making sure they know they matter.
There’s a saying that often gets passed around: Sometimes talking to your mom is all the therapy you need.
In aviation, that feels especially true. It doesn’t matter if a pilot is 26 or 66, they still need a “mom.”
Because being an aviation mom isn’t just about supporting pilots. It’s about nurturing people.
I know I carry a deep sense of gratitude for the women who showed me what this role can be. These women are the backbone of the industry — the women who modeled, through quiet consistency and generous hearts, the lasting impact of an aviation mom.
If you have an aviation mom who has supported you, thank her.
That was awesome! What a great message for other aviation Mom’s and those they “raise.”