Throughout my 20s, my group of girlfriends was my lifeline. We talked about everything: dating, break-ups, boyfriends, exams, work stress, and family drama. They’ve seen me at my most vulnerable and at my proudest moments. There’s this unbreakable bond between us that makes me feel safe sharing my craziest ideas, wildest dreams and shameful regrets.
I was the first to get pregnant. During my pregnancy, I made a vow that when the baby came, I would continue to stay in touch, keep up with everyone’s lives and share everything that was going on with me. I secretly hoped one of my friends would get knocked up so that she could go on that journey with me. I mean, it would have been awesome to see our kids become friends.
But my daughter came and I became a mom. It was tough to meet those lofty expectations. I really thought life would resume just like the day before giving birth.
Instead, everything changed. It was all about routines, poopy diapers, naptime, bottles, mourning the loss of my independence while growing a new type of love for a tiny human. It was an experience that was hard for someone to fully understand if they hadn’t gone through it themselves.
And for a while, I missed my life before kids. You know, the weekend brunches, happy hours, late-night chats and spur-of-the-moment outings like paddleboarding on a hot day or early morning hikes.
The get-togethers slowed down, chats became infrequent and honestly, I felt disconnected from my friends who were going about their normal lives without a screaming baby gnawing at their breasts every two hours.
But five years and another kid later, here’s how I’ve adjusted to being the only mom in my closest group of friends.
I get to live vicariously through their childfree aspirations.
I’ve known I wanted to have kids since I was a kid. I love being a mom but I also have strong career ambitions and a deep yearning to see the world. I knew that being a mom meant I would have to put some things on hold. As a working mom, the balance to do it all is a myth.
Some of my friends are becoming corporate bada—- in their companies. Others are traveling the world, from France to China and everywhere in between. They have the freedom to pick up and go as they please. And I love hearing their inspiring stories and living vicariously through their adventures. I am truly happy for their happiness.
But it doesn’t make me want what they have. Rather, it makes me appreciate the life I have chosen. Their stories are exciting, but I know it’s not for me. Spending time with my kids on the living room floor, laughing (and sometimes crying) until my belly aches is how I want to spend my 30s. I know when the kids are older, I will have more time and space to get a little crazy.
I like being the mom in the group.
When I became a mom, I stopped caring about many of the superficial things. There is a bigger purpose in my life, and it forced me to slow down and smell the roses. Having kids tests my patience daily, while worrying about them every night changed me.
And my friends know that. So when we talk, we have this understanding that whatever we’re talking about, I will offer a different perspective than their friends who aren’t parents. I like that my experience as a mom has given me a special role in my group of friends.
I really appreciate the time I spend with them.
I don’t hang out with my friends as often as I did before kids, but when we do, I really appreciate the time we spend together because it’s incredibly meaningful. It’s become more about quality instead of quantity.
My attention is completely dedicated to them, actively listening and focusing on everything they’re saying and doing. I think I’ve become a more present and mindful friend since becoming a mom.
At the end of the day, my friends are some of the greatest and most supportive people in my life. As each of us goes through life changes, it doesn’t mean we grow apart. It just means we adapt and adjust to the new normal. And if or when one of my friends becomes a mom, I’ll be there for them with bells on, ready, willing and able to lend an ear, babysit and offer solicited advice.
