Friendship After Motherhood: Navigating Isolation, Social Changes, and Loneliness

211 days.  That’s how long it’s been since the last time my pre-motherhood best friend and I spoke to each other.  We’ve seen each other in passing since then, times during which neither of us thought it necessary to talk or say hi or even share a moment of eye contact.

I know it was 211 days because it was Memorial Day, May 27th.  My son was nearing six months old and was going through his spit-up stage, where every time he ate he’d puke up half his milk.  I remember feeling nervous that my childless friends might be grossed out by him, because maybe that was why they weren’t really coming around anymore. 

We also saw each other once right after the baby was born, when she (and a couple other close friends) came by my house to meet him for the first time.  They always tell you how after you have a baby, you won’t be able to keep people away and catch a break.  That notion never seemed true for me.  In fact, I struggled with quite the opposite.  The loneliness, the isolation, the craving for some adult interaction to remind me that I was human for some fleeting moment-- that was something I just wasn’t prepared for.

Shortly after, my husband and I attended her birthday party.  A mutual friend shot us a text a few days in advance to let us know it was happening.  Upon receiving the invitation I felt the first pang of worry:  Were we an afterthought?

I paid it little mind.  During our time there, I spoke with my friend just a little.  There were a lot of people around, new friends and old, mingling amongst themselves and tearing her away from each other.  At one point we crossed paths and I felt relief at the thought that we could catch up, that I could finally have a conversation with someone that isn’t my husband, for the first time in months.  I talked about my parents’ divorce for a moment before she was torn away again, an occupational hazard of being a party host, I know all too well.  

Then, there was Memorial day.  And here we are now, 211 days later.

I loved hosting social gatherings at my house before having a baby.  Even at nine months pregnant (just a week or so before spontaneously going into labor), I pushed through Braxton-Hicks contractions to produce a splendid Friendsgiving dinner, complete with a turkey, southern-style mac and cheese, bacon-maple brussels sprouts, and all the fixings.

Our full Friendsgiving table, just days before our son’s birthday.

We had so many guests we couldn’t all fit at our eight-seater table, so we extended it with fold-outs that spanned our entire basement from one end to the other.  It was the same group of guests we hosted every week on Sundays, for our regularly scheduled Dungeons and Dragons game.  

D&D was fabulous.  I could count on the consistency of seeing people weekly, so we never fell out of touch and we were always up-to-date on the current affairs of each others’ lives.  It helped that we were all mutual friends, most of us having known each other since childhood, with a few new faces that seemed to mesh so well you’d think they were there all along, too.

Of all of us, my husband and I were the only ones in a relationship.  The rest of our friends were a couple years younger than us, still navigating the ups and downs of dating, college classes, and first jobs.

At this point, we were already homeowners, married, had careers, and of course, a baby on the way.  I didn’t see this as much of a hindrance to our relationship with our friends, especially given that they’d supported us throughout the course of growing up and shaping our adulthood.

Friendsgiving was the last time we saw everyone all together.  Immediately following the birth of our child, my husband and I took several weeks to recoup our energy and adjust to life as new parents.  But, earlier than anticipated, we found ourselves ready to jump back on the horse and pick up weekly D&D game sessions again.

When we texted our group chat the response was bleak.  Most didn’t even acknowledge the text at all.  Those who did gave responses mirroring “Book club is on Sundays now, but we can find out if that can be moved,” or, “Well, things have picked up a bit with school, and weekends are my only free time,” or, “I’ll have to check my calendar.”  In other words, they were too busy.  And if they weren’t too busy, they had other things they’d rather do in their spare time.

It felt like a slap in the face.  Were the few weeks off to recover from childbirth really enough to dissolve our whole campaign?  What did this mean for our social life?

I tried to believe that it was no big deal, and that our relationships would recover, but a year after our son’s arrival, I can say with confidence that things will never be the same.

The abruptness of our friends’ departure from our lives left me wondering if I’d done something wrong, because surely our closest companions wouldn’t abandon us for having a kid.  Being parents didn’t make us that different from them, did it?

I still feel like there’s a gap in my life which was once full.  Seeing a friend once in a blue moon is not the same as the consistency I had before my child was born.  I’ve been disheartened by the lack of support during one of the most mentally taxing life changes a person could experience, topped off with unforeseen events that made this the most difficult year I have gone through.  I’m certain my friends had a difficult year themselves, from what I’ve heard.  What I wish they could understand is that I have always been here, willing and waiting for them to come around.  I never lost the space in my life to maintain friendships.

I can imagine that they might have thought that I’ve changed so much, that I’m in such a new stage of life that I couldn’t possibly enjoy the things I did before.  Well with my big round belly I still played charades.  I still cooked Friendsgiving dinner just a week before going into labor.  I still played D&D through the nausea and exhaustion of my first trimester.  Why would everyone predict that I can’t still be the same person now, now thatI’ve assumed the role of “mom”?

But, what I have learned through talking with other moms is that this social experience is not only common, but typical as one enters this new stage of life.

I have struggled to accept the restructuring of my social life, but the more I do, the more energy I have to devote to rebuilding my circle of trust.  In parenthood I have made some friends I anticipate being a part of my life for years to come.

I rekindled a friendship with someone I was once close with during high school, who fell out of my life for several years as we moved past our differences.  We both have toddlers, spouses, and are traversing life through similar paths.  She understands the chaos, the financial stress, the marital journey, and perhaps most importantly, the importance of sticking to our nap schedule.

Another new friend of mine, also with a toddler and a fiancee, loves setting aside time for childless “mom dates” where we can enjoy a quiet dinner together, chatting about our parallel lives.  On other days, we swing by each others’ houses with the kids and watch them play together, in total understanding of the antics of toddlerhood.

Meeting my close friend’s newborn daughter the first time, about one year before I had my own son.

I could rant and complain about the people that did not show up for me all day, but instead, it’s healthier to refocus my attention to those that did.  I may have memories of dead friendships, of those people that didn’t text back for weeks, or those that visited once to meet the baby then moved right on with their lives.

It would be an injustice to devote time and attention to that, when my mom friends did step up.  One visited me in the hospital within 24 hours of my son’s birth, a welcome break from the bustling excitement of in-laws and well-meaning family with a little too much vigor.  Another showed up at my house less than a week later, showered me with a postpartum care package (because she knew that was what I needed) and cried with joy when she held my baby for the first time.

I have spent countless hours ruminating on my changing social dynamic, grieving the loss of childhood friends and resenting the thought that things may be permanently different.

I may never host another Friendsgiving with the old D&D group.  We may never finish our fantastical campaign or find out what happens at the end.  We may never celebrate another New Year’s Eve together with drinking games and elaborate parties.

Acceptance is key here.  It’s okay for me to grieve.  It’s also okay for them to move on.  It’s even okay for me to feel a little bitter about that.  It’s a part of the process that seems so tried and true for so many young parents like myself.

Our 2022 wedding party.

Healing is the new focus for me, now.  I’ve considered joining a local moms group to branch out further, as I feel that even with my existing mom friends, I still have space in my life to expand even more socially.  I’ve also learned that while I may not be busy nurturing friendships every day, I have new things to focus my attention on, like hobbies (including blogging-- hello!), renovating my home, and most importantly, strengthening my mental health and ability to foster a happy family.

So, know that if you’re a mom being hit with the reality of old friends drifting away, you are not alone.  Not at all.  It may feel at times like you’re living on an island or in a bubble that others dare not tread into.  This is your reminder that I was on that island too, and every minute, roughly 258 moms give birth and join that same club.

I’ll provide an update when I find the best way to reach those other moms.

Was I prepared to lose friends after having a child?  Not really.  Many of us aren’t.  But the view from the other side isn’t all that bad.