To All My Friends Who Don’t Have Kids Yet


Everything changed when I became a mom; my sleep habits, my body, my budget, my marriage, my priorities, my soul, my heart. One thing that has never changed – how much I value and appreciate you. If it has changed, it’s only because watching you love my baby has turned me into one big pile of mush.

Honestly, being the first in our friend group to have a baby has been isolating. It meant that during pregnancy, nobody could relate to my aches and pains or my anxiety about childbirth. It meant that when we had a newborn, nobody could relate to how difficult breastfeeding really is or the zombie-like state we walked around in for the first three months as we desperately tried to cling on to our sanity and social life. It meant that nobody could relate to the strain on our budget when we realized the cost of diapers, wipes, formula, and the clothes that they grow out of almost instantly.

It meant that nobody could relate to the fact that restaurants and trendy breweries became almost out of the question (and exhausting) once she became mobile and wanting to explore. It means that nobody can relate to the fact that when I do get out of the house in real clothes and get the chance to do adult things with other adults, all I really want to talk about is how awesome my kid is. It means that nobody can relate to the shift that happens deep in your soul when you raise a tiny human. Even though it was, and is, impossible for you to understand fully, thanks for always listening.

While this season of life has been isolating, you’ve also shown me that it can be insanely beautiful. It has meant you offering your time freely in exchange for board games and pizza because you know we need a night out. It has meant hanging out at our house almost exclusively for the last two years and us gaining an understanding of how much our presence really means to you.

It has meant watching you love our girl so fiercely that you don’t mind your Saturday evening being interrupted to read bedtime stories as a group (including reading in ridiculous voices). It has meant generous gifts of books, art supplies, and even zoo memberships to be sure she has everything she needs to grow her heart, soul, and mind. It has meant our girl being more loved than we ever could have imagined. She calls you her friends, and you truly are. What a gift that has been.

I want you to know that I’m so grateful for you and your friendship. I’m so grateful that you’ve remained a constant in my life. I’m so grateful that you’ve been patient with me as I’ve learned to navigate parenthood. But also, I miss you. I read your texts even though they sometimes go unanswered. I see your phone calls when we both know I’m probably not going to pick up. Thanks for calling anyway.

Please know that when the time comes for you to become a parent, I will welcome you with open arms and ears, warm meals, and caffeinated coffee. Until then, I’m trying and I love you.


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