The fragile hand of friendship

theberkhamstedmama - 16 Mar 18

This isn’t the easiest post to write, because I’m still struggling with how I feel about it all; so bear with me. Having a baby can really change so many things in your life. I expected it to change my waistline for example (not that I really had one to start with) and I knew that my sleep intake was about to dramatically drop, but one thing I wasn’t prepared for, was the affect it would have on my friendships.

Having done an NCT class, I had heard a hundred times how important it was to be making friends who were going through the same thing as us – people who would have their babies at a similar time, and who would be on the end of the phone at 2, 3, 4am with advice or encouragement, or just to sympathise that they too were up in the middle of the night with a baby who seemed allergic to sleep… What I hadn’t heard was that having a baby could have a negative impact on the friendships you already had.
I had naively assumed that the friends I’d always been surrounded by would be just as delighted with our new addition as we were – they would be overjoyed by the countless Facebook posts, Instagram updates and daily texts with pictures and videos of our snoozing newborn. I guess I had thought that if they loved me, they would love our baby and want to know all about her.
 Wrong.
 Of course, there will be people who just love all babies. More often than not these people will have their own children, and will want to relive their rose-coloured, and time-dimmed memories of those early days with a baby. They will have forgotten all of the minutiae of the first few weeks where all the days run one into another and you can’t remember the last time you went out of the house wearing something that wasn’t covered in snot or vomited up milk, and will instead be popping around wanting to sniff the newborns head (the smell really is just sour breastmilk FYI), and getting all broody about tiny fingers and toes.

There are some people who don’t have children – maybe they never wanted, or couldn’t have them, or maybe they’ve not yet had them and are starting to think about one day being a parent themselves – they might come round with a considerate gift – possibly after seeking advice from other friends who have children, or the store assistant in Jojo Maman…. ‘I need a present which will be useful but not hugely expensive…’ and the store assistant/friend/random woman standing next to them in the shop advises muslin squares… which you add to the growing pile which you think you’ll never possibly need all of, but soon find just how grateful you are that so many people bought them!!

The final group of people – the friends who liked you for you. They enjoyed your company when you were a different person – when you were the person before your baby. The not-mum. When you could do shots of jaeger-meister and sang karaoke at 3am, and smoked vogues like they were going out of fashion. I liked that me too. I liked who that person was – she was really fun, she never said no to a social invitation, and she was always good for a laugh. Sometimes I miss her too – sometimes I think it would be nice to still be that person who could get home from a club after the morning milk had been delivered and who couldn’t care less what others thought – but that girl has gone now. With the arrival of a small person, or rather with the arrival of a heartbeat and a little blur on a computer screen that made my own heart beat just that bit faster – a new person arrived – well – two new people if you count the baby. In place of the girl who spent all weekends driving to the beach to scuba dive, is a woman who wakes in the night to replace a lost dummy. A woman who has to remember to pack snacks for her child without giving a thought to what she will eat herself for lunch. A woman who has a lovely Mulberry handbag, which sits discarded behind the sofa because it doesn’t fit all of the nappies and wipes and teethers that now must go everywhere with her. A woman who above all else, would lay down her life for her baby without a second thought. A mum. Such a small word but which means so much.

Something changes in you which is inexplicable. It’s impossible to describe to people why you can no longer do all the things you did before – even with the offer of babysitters – because actually, I just don’t want to leave her for the evening – and no, that doesn’t make me weird, or boring, or that I’ve somehow totally lost the plot – it just means that I’ve changed, I’m different, I have new priorities.
 Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy a night out. I love going for dinner with friends, and the occasional glass of wine – but when you’ve got to get up at 5.30, the idea of a hangover is slightly less appealing. I don’t talk about her all the time – in fact I’d love to talk about what your boyfriend has been up to, or the latest holiday you took – I’ll probably go slightly glassy-eyed thinking about the fact that I can’t so easily do all the things you’re doing any more, but it doesn’t mean I care any less that you are enjoying them, or that you are happy.
One of my friends very wisely told me that as you get older and your life changes, you are bound to go in different directions from some of the people you used to spend time with. This is undoubtedly true. There are people who I used to spend time with at university who I barely hear from, and barely contact nowadays, but others who are great at dropping a line every now and again. We all chose different paths in life, and sometimes life chooses those paths for us – and they’re not always going to end up in the same destination.

The arrival of my daughter has bought me many things. Too many things to list here, but above all – an enduring and ever-growing love which astounds me every day and frankly takes my breath away. I have a new group of wonderful friends who have been along the journey with me – our babies growing together and supporting each other every step of the way – not just with baby things, but with life in general – we started as acquaintances but have truly become friends now, and that is fabulous.

There will be people who are fighting their own battles. Maybe they are undertaking IVF, or are unable to have children at all. Maybe they are struggling in other ways, and don’t want to hear your constant ‘life is so wonderful with children’ comments. I guess the one main thing I have learnt is that you should be mindful. Mindful of others feelings, mindful that not everyone is feeling the way that you are, mindful that we all have our own challenges to face and that sometimes people will need a time-out from each other, mindful that things can change, that people change, and that hopefully, in the course of a lifetime, the true friends will remain.

theberkhamstedmama

Mama. Feminist. Wife. Journalist. Not always in that order... OCD warrior. Advocate of positive birthing & empowerment of women. Above all; be kind.

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