When I saw those two lines over 10 years ago, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. Boy, was I mistaken!
But it wasn’t just about motherhood misconceptions: I never expected the coming years to quietly trigger a kind of "relationship inventory." I believed my romantic relationship and friendships were solid, unshakable anchors through any life phase. Then becoming a parent clearly showed me that’s not always the case.
And before you think it all happened because from then on, I could only talk about diapers, birth, and sleepless nights—nope. I definitely changed—who wouldn’t?—but interestingly, it was my childfree friends who stood by me most steadily.
When Opening Up Becomes One-Sided
I had a friend who became a mom a few years before me. I thought she’d hold my hand as I stepped into this new world. I counted on her experience, advice, and understanding presence. I believed we’d finally speak the same language, and this life change would bring us closer. But it soon became clear that just sharing a life stage doesn’t keep a relationship alive.
As long as I was the one reaching out, asking about her, organizing meetups, everything worked.
But when it came time for her to reach out, ask questions, and show curiosity about me, everything went quiet. No open conflict, no hurt feelings, no harsh words. Just longer and longer pauses, fewer and fewer replies.
We’re not on bad terms; when we cross paths, there’s always a few inside jokes only we get. But compared to knowing almost everything about each other before, now we don’t really count on one another. And there was a time when we truly stood by each other—through breakups and weddings, grief and joy. From this friendship, I learned that a shared past alone doesn’t guarantee we’ll hold on to each other now. Sometimes, nothing dramatic happens, yet something natural quietly fades away.
The Illusion of Same-Age Babies
Another friendship ended quite differently. Pregnancy was exciting because we both got positive tests almost simultaneously and gave birth just a week apart. We were sure this was the perfect scenario. We planned walks together, milestones to share, and pictured our daughters becoming best friends.
But reality was much more grounded. Each of us got caught up in our own little world. Different rhythms, adjusting to our own child, fatigue, or simply using all our energy just to survive the changes... We had little time or energy to truly connect or step outside our own bubble.
We lived in parallel worlds that, on paper, were about the same thing but never really met. Before we knew it, deep conversations gave way to polite messages. We still smile and chat when we meet, but that closeness we once took for granted quietly vanished.
What Remained and What Made Room for New
Motherhood brutally highlighted that friendship doesn’t survive on shared life stages but on shared intention. It’s about whether we want the other person in our lives even when it’s uncomfortable, when we’re tired, or when there’s never a perfect time.
Of course, as often happens, while some friendships quieted down, new ones appeared unexpectedly. I grew close to people I’d barely nodded to before, and the old friends who stood by me throughout remained.
They taught me that friendship isn’t necessarily about sharing the same life stage.
Today, I no longer believe every friendship must last forever, even if we share many traits, memories, or an unchangeable past. We all change, and some people only walk with us for a season. That’s not failure—it’s the natural order of life.
I hold no resentment toward friendships that didn’t survive my motherhood or the past years; in fact, I look back on what they gave me with gratitude. I’m thankful for the experience because now I welcome those who can truly be present in my life—at this time, in this version of me—much more consciously.
