We’re back at Kindred Mom after a long summer break in which one of us had a baby, two of us moved, one rejoined the team, and a new member started (and moved). Basically, I was the only one without a major life change since April. My post is live over there. Feel free to skip right to it here or read on for a preview…
I was the last among my friends to have a baby at the advanced age of twenty-eight. I know there are lots of mamas who wait much longer than I did for their tinies, but, for a couple of years in my mid- to late twenties, it felt like I would never join this exclusive club that all my friends had been inducted into. They all talked diapers and colds and sleep and breastfeeding so glamorous) and, while I would obnoxiously throw my poorly-founded, well-researched opinions unsolicited into mom conversations, I felt very much outside the motherhood club. I imagined when I finally became a mother, this would be the mainstay of my social life: conversations centered around our darling cherubs carried out with other moms in similar stages. These ladies would be my people as they had been pre-kid, and I would again—finally—be theirs, just as soon as I reproduced.
I was a little right and a lot wrong. These ladies were, in fact, my people when I started having babies and didn’t stop for half a decade. But my insecurities had blinded me to the obvious: we had never stopped being friends, even when I was being generous (annoying) with my vast knowledge of all things motherhood. The club was mostly an illusion. Also, as it turns out, that mom circle isn’t even my biggest source of support.
Some of my best mama friends aren’t actually mothers.