After my longtime friend, Sarah, had her first baby and I was on the brink of becoming a parent myself, I quickly realized that our phone conversations would transform in ways I had never anticipated (and by “never,” I mean before I understood how time can suddenly accelerate when you’re a parent). These chats became a delicate dance of me speaking while she juggled her baby, creating a dynamic reminiscent of a love triangle.
“Keep talking!” she urged, clearly craving some adult conversation. “I’m listening, even if I’m also focused on the baby!” I complied, venturing into this new territory of our friendship that felt so different from the past.
Picture a slideshow reminiscent of Michael Jackson’s “Black or White,” with me on one side and her on the other. Her hair transitions from a neat ponytail to loose curls, cheekbones become more prominent as baby fat fades, and glasses give way to contacts, only to later be replaced by laser surgery. Now, envision her hair pulled into a messy bun, makeup erased, dark circles under her eyes. On my side, there’s a question mark hovering above my head, signaling confusion. Each phase of our friendship looked distinct, characterized by its own unique dynamics, yet the essence of our bond remained intact: being there for one another.
Now, we were both navigating awkward phone conversations, attempting to redefine what “being there” meant. It was a new form of communication, where my words were acknowledged, validated, or questioned, but often directed at someone else. This felt disorienting, yet I understood that this was simply part of the journey.
It’s widely recognized that having a child can strain a couple’s relationship. So why wouldn’t our friendships also require some adjustments? The circumstances had changed, and I needed to recalibrate my expectations, trusting that she truly wanted to listen, and that was what mattered most at this stage.
Returning to that slideshow analogy—relationships can evolve, too. Once, being there for each other meant calling whenever a favorite music video aired or writing lengthy letters packed with doodles to stave off boredom during a solo flight. It included reassuring one another through heartbreaks, bravely delivering tough truths like, “He’s not going to call,” so that we could both move forward.
Now, the definition of “being there” is a continual work in progress, expanding to embrace new forms of support. It might mean responding at 4 a.m. to a distressed Facebook post, simply to remind her she’s not alone, even if she can’t see the lights in my window from miles away. It involves calling from another country just to say she’s thinking of me. It could even be offering to take my child for a playdate to allow me some much-needed rest. It’s about gifting something for me that isn’t related to motherhood, reminding me that I’m still a person deserving of nice things.
Ultimately, it’s about remembering the girl I was before.
This article was originally published on June 21, 2015.
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Summary:
The evolution of friendship after becoming a parent is a journey filled with adjustments and new dynamics. As lives change with the arrival of children, so too must the ways we support one another. True friendship remains grounded in the desire to be there for each other, even as the forms of connection transform.