I suppose this is why I'm here, writing an anonymous blog in my half-lit computer room, a 2 liter of cheap but tasty Grapette by my side, and my min pin sitting obsessively by my bare feet (her brat-like state will be explained at another time).
I've been resorted to expressing my feelings in this manner mostly due recent events surrounding my life, and if anyone has ever lived in Central Virginia, you know that differing views are somewhat...unwelcomed.
My best friend, my confidante since the age of 13, just had her first child a few weeks ago, coincidentally just a day after my own wedding. She's always wanted children, craved their existence. My husband and I do as well....just not right now. After all, we're all only in our early 20's.
Now, before the Mommy Drones come to attack my statement, let me clarify a few things. I love children, I think they're adorable and sweet and all of that other fuzzy stuff we all say. And no, I'm not a party-hound, I don't go crazy on the weekends, I'm not a selfish money hoarder that views children as leeches who suck the marrow of life.
However, both my husband and I are the eldest of our clans. As young children, we helped raise our siblings every day, and were often the baby sitters, usually without being asked. I would not take a moment of it back, neither would he, as our siblings light our world. BUT with this knowledge, we have an idea of what responsibility raising children are, and would prefer to wait.
This leads into my current dilemma, my friend "Cara", upon finding out she was pregnant, began to go through what some label as the "Mommy" change. Instead of our heart-to-heart conversations discussing, love, life, philosophy, and history, all I can hear is "baby" and all the entanglements that come with that word.
I'm not heartless - I completely understand that she was going through an enormous change in her life. But, a few months ago when I was in the midst of my hectic wedding planning, I also knew not to drown our conversation in the details of my wedding. She may love me, and I love her, but I have sense enough to know that it's probably not high on her list of things to discuss every day.
Anywho, as the nine months ticked on, I knew that things as they were would come to an end. No more random visits on our days off work, no more movie nights on my sofa, no more midnight runs to IHOP, and the virtual end of our endless phone calls, talking about our lives for hours, with no regard to the time. Internally, I was mourning this loss, all the while smiling and laughing as we spoke about her future as a mother.
When she first broke the news to me, a small flood of disappointment ran through my system. I wanted to cry quietly to myself, yet congratulate her at the same time. To validate my feelings, which somewhat disturbed me, I talked to other friends and family, who mostly stared at me in shock. Often I received responses such as
"You can't be a child forever, everyone has children. You'll get over it."
"That's selfish of you to think such things, you should be thrilled for her!" (Note: I was, to an extent.)
Etc, etc, etc....
Since the people I saw in flesh and blood were of no help, I turned to online forums and blogs similar to this. It is interesting how some people view this "feeling of loss" as selfish and immature. It seemed to me that the Mommy Drones attacked others who thought differently, or who were slightly apprehensive about the idea of wanting children, or those who missed the friends that used to hang by their side, before they traded in everything for a diaper bag and a pair of jogging pants.
Some of the Drones even protested that, once you fulfill the awe inspiring role of "parent", friends who do not have children become somewhat less important and intelligent, as if they are of a different rank. Mostly because, childless young couples like "us", could never relate to the feeling of parenthood, thus our opinions become invalid. This started me to wonder, since I have no children, will my friend believe that we have nothing in common anymore?
Nonetheless, nine months went by and a beautiful little girl was brought into the world. Sadly, I recognized the passing of what was, but to convince myself that this new era was going to be just as great as the last, I went on a shopping spree for little "Amy". When Cara was ready for visitors at the hospital, I came bearing gifts, numerous, numerous gifts.
When I walked into the room, Cara's mother and grandmother were sitting on the bench-like padded seats that were beside the hospital bed. Cara's mother, "The Dragon", was holding onto little Amy with her claws dug in tight. Cara's fiance "Tom" stood in the corner beside her. Feeling an overwhelming imbalance of estrogen in the room, my husband and Tom eloquently exited the mass congregation of women to go and walk the grounds and grab a drink. I handed over my gifts to Cara, who smiled happily as she opened the bag filled to the brim of onesies, teethers, baby wipes, and pacifiers. I even threw in a Halloween themed outfit for the impeding months.
Despite Cara's graciousness and thankfulness for the presents, the room was filled with more awkwardness than imaginable. I oohed and awed over little Amy, from a distance. This is because The Dragon refused to let anyone else hold the new baby, as if I was plagued with some voracious disease, the "no child" disease.
Quietly, I thought to myself, "I suppose because I have none of my own, you suspect that I don't know how to hold a baby?" It was insulting, but I digress.
As mentioned earlier, little Amy was born just a mere day after my wedding. But, I wanted to show my friend how much I cared and loved for her, so before departing for my honeymoon, I wanted to make a point of visiting to show my support. The visit, which I had pictured so differently, was short and uncomfortable. The Dragon sat perched with Amy in her arms, staring me down with perfectly manicured hands and impeccably dyed hair.
I laughed internally to myself - only two years before she worked at Wal-Mart as a plain jane sales associate. That is, before she met her current husband, a wealthy retiree from the Navy. It was then she created her snooty complex.
So, after it was obvious that I wasn't going to be able to hold little Amy, I resigned myself to one of those overly large recliners, sitting back awkwardly as Cara's family stared incredulously. Talk didn't vary much, it mostly concerned Amy's eating schedule and Cara's c-section. I was fine with this, until the infamous question was asked.
"So, are YOU going to have children?"
I stared on, and blurted a knee-jerk response.
"I don't know."
The weirdness increased, and so did the dirty looks of the Mommy Club sitting in front of me. Once my husband returned, we left promptly, escaping from a room of judgmental stares.
Despite the rude questions and evil stares, I still tried to accept that everything was normal. Upon returning from my honeymoon, I sent my friend a quick text, asking her how she was. I didn't want to call, in case the baby was, by chance, sleeping or feeding.
I never received a response. My instincts shivered.
So I sent another text - "How are you and Amy doing?"
No response. Nothing.
I let a few days go by, I knew that she would be busy transitioning from a working woman to a stay-at-home Mommy, but once nearly a week passed by, I called. This is how the conversation went.
"Hello?"
"Hey! I just wanted to call and see-"
"Can I call you back?"
"Sure...something wrong?"
"I'm trying to feed Amy."
"Oh okay, well, talk you la-"
"Bye." Click
I was hurt, but tried to be understanding. So a few days later I checked my phone to see a quick text from Cara.
"Sorry, couldn't respond to texts earlier. Phone was dead." A lie on top of another lie. First off, she was obsessed with having her phone charged, her fiance is a truck driver and is on the road constantly. She likes to have it charged in case she needs him, or vice versa. I would've rather she told me she was busy.
"No problem." I responded.
It was another week before I heard from her again, this time in an unusual manner. I was on Facebook lounging around before work, and I saw one of our other close friends congratulate Cara on her new addition. I chimed in as well, exclaiming how cute the baby was.
Previous to this conversation, I bought some additional things for Cara, such as more baby wipes (can't get enough of those) and some outfits Amy could wear a couple months down the road. Since Cara no longer worked, I thought I'd drop off a couple of items to help out. Cheerfully, I asked -
"I have a few things for you - I'd love to come visit you and Amy."
"Sounds great. I can't have visitors yet though. I'll call you and let you know when I'm accepting visitors. I don't want Amy to catch anything from any outside adults."
Okay, first off, I completely understand if she needs some space to adjust. I also understand that new parents are more than likely to be overprotective of their first-born. Had this not been the same woman who called me every day and practically lived in our house as a roommate pre-baby, I wouldn't be too upset. But I was. Immature? Perhaps. Didn't help the feeling that I was now an "outside" force.
Regardless, I'd love to know if others have ever experienced the awkward "friend post-baby" phase. Especially those from the childfree POV.
And to all of those moms who happen to come across this article, please never forget your friends, even when you have children. Especially those you've grown-up with, or perhaps cried on their shoulder when in pain, or those who ate your burnt TV dinners without reluctance.
You've added a child to your life - not removed everyone else around you. Friends like us may not have children - but we do still have a heart. Most of us have the will and the power to love both you and your child, despite what all those Mommy Drones say about us "childless" folk.
