An Open Letter to My Child-free Friends
Dear Child-free friend,
I miss you. I miss the friendship we once had. I miss the spontaneous lunch dates, the pedicures, the care-free over night adventures. I miss the girls weekends, and gym dates that were really just coffee dates in yoga pants. I miss how easy friendship used to be. I don't need to tell you that it isn't easy anymore.
We both keep trying, but I still feel this constant disconnect. I know you do, too.
I remember all the amazing moments we've shared. I remember the first high school heart breaks. I remember calling you when leaving home was hard. I remember coming to visit you when you were so homesick you couldn't stand it. I remember all the boyfriends, the excitement that came with each new romance and the devastation that came with each breakup. I remember every pint of ice cream. I remember standing by each other's side as we each said, "I do," and I remember you standing by my side for my next big milestone: becoming a mom.
You gave so much that first year, and I could never thank you enough. For all the meals you brought over, for all the times you kept me company when I was losing it in baby-land. For all the times you settled for chit-chatting in my messy house instead of coffee and pedicures. For all the times you changed plans around unpredictable nap-time schedules. For all the love you showered on my new baby. For all the times you showed up. For all the times you forgave me when I couldn't show up.
You gave and gave and gave and waited for the day when I could give back. I waited, too. We both thought this crazy adventure would be more like an intensive 6-month mommy boot camp, and eventually things would be "back to normal". I don't think either of us realized that this chaotic state was actually my new normal. It's been 2 1/2 years and I am still as unavailable as I was at the beginning. And our friendship is suffering for it.
I'm so sorry. I want you to know that I love you anyway. I love you when I can't make it to your dinner party because I couldn't find a sitter. I love you when you would rather go out with other child-free women than spend another morning trying to have a conversation while I chase my kid around the house. I love you when I say, "Sorry, what were you trying to say?" after stopping my toddler from climbing on the table.
I know friendships don't work one-way, and ours has been struggling to function that way since my daughter's first cry. I'm not giving up on our friendship, but I am holding loosely and allowing space. I know carrying us this far must have been exhausting. I'm starting to accept that our lives have turned into two very different adventures. It just doesn't work for us to be involved in each other's adventures as we once were. This comes with heavy grief. I know you feel it, too. Maybe one day you will have kids, and then the story will change again. Maybe when my kids are grown, we'll find that our paths are closer together again. Then again, maybe our lives won't ever be as similar as they once were.
No matter what happens from here I want you to know that I will NEVER stop cheering for you. I will always be excited for you, even if I can't make it to the celebration. I will always cherish what you have to say, even if I can only hear it over a text message that you sent yesterday. I will always be grateful for the memories that we made, and the times we shared.
Motherhood doesn't leave a lot of room for flexibility outside of the immediate family. I try, but it's not the same. That being so, I don't expect you to continue to compensate for my lack of flexibility. I can imagine that feels pretty exhausting. It's okay if we don't see each other much anymore. I love you. I miss you. But I understand. Sometimes you have to stop forcing things that don't work.
Just know that my door and my heart will always be open to you. It may be covered in crayons and ketchup smears from tiny fingers, but it is open my friend. When you need a hug, a cup of tea, a smile, a listening ear, or a belly laugh from a toddler, come on in! You are free to come and go as you please.
XO
Ally
I miss you. I miss the friendship we once had. I miss the spontaneous lunch dates, the pedicures, the care-free over night adventures. I miss the girls weekends, and gym dates that were really just coffee dates in yoga pants. I miss how easy friendship used to be. I don't need to tell you that it isn't easy anymore.
We both keep trying, but I still feel this constant disconnect. I know you do, too.
I remember all the amazing moments we've shared. I remember the first high school heart breaks. I remember calling you when leaving home was hard. I remember coming to visit you when you were so homesick you couldn't stand it. I remember all the boyfriends, the excitement that came with each new romance and the devastation that came with each breakup. I remember every pint of ice cream. I remember standing by each other's side as we each said, "I do," and I remember you standing by my side for my next big milestone: becoming a mom.
You gave so much that first year, and I could never thank you enough. For all the meals you brought over, for all the times you kept me company when I was losing it in baby-land. For all the times you settled for chit-chatting in my messy house instead of coffee and pedicures. For all the times you changed plans around unpredictable nap-time schedules. For all the love you showered on my new baby. For all the times you showed up. For all the times you forgave me when I couldn't show up.
You gave and gave and gave and waited for the day when I could give back. I waited, too. We both thought this crazy adventure would be more like an intensive 6-month mommy boot camp, and eventually things would be "back to normal". I don't think either of us realized that this chaotic state was actually my new normal. It's been 2 1/2 years and I am still as unavailable as I was at the beginning. And our friendship is suffering for it.
I'm so sorry. I want you to know that I love you anyway. I love you when I can't make it to your dinner party because I couldn't find a sitter. I love you when you would rather go out with other child-free women than spend another morning trying to have a conversation while I chase my kid around the house. I love you when I say, "Sorry, what were you trying to say?" after stopping my toddler from climbing on the table.
I know friendships don't work one-way, and ours has been struggling to function that way since my daughter's first cry. I'm not giving up on our friendship, but I am holding loosely and allowing space. I know carrying us this far must have been exhausting. I'm starting to accept that our lives have turned into two very different adventures. It just doesn't work for us to be involved in each other's adventures as we once were. This comes with heavy grief. I know you feel it, too. Maybe one day you will have kids, and then the story will change again. Maybe when my kids are grown, we'll find that our paths are closer together again. Then again, maybe our lives won't ever be as similar as they once were.
No matter what happens from here I want you to know that I will NEVER stop cheering for you. I will always be excited for you, even if I can't make it to the celebration. I will always cherish what you have to say, even if I can only hear it over a text message that you sent yesterday. I will always be grateful for the memories that we made, and the times we shared.
Motherhood doesn't leave a lot of room for flexibility outside of the immediate family. I try, but it's not the same. That being so, I don't expect you to continue to compensate for my lack of flexibility. I can imagine that feels pretty exhausting. It's okay if we don't see each other much anymore. I love you. I miss you. But I understand. Sometimes you have to stop forcing things that don't work.
Just know that my door and my heart will always be open to you. It may be covered in crayons and ketchup smears from tiny fingers, but it is open my friend. When you need a hug, a cup of tea, a smile, a listening ear, or a belly laugh from a toddler, come on in! You are free to come and go as you please.
XO
Ally
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