A letter best left unsent...how has having children affected your friendships?

I CRIED tonight when I thought of you. I realised you and I were just six years old when we first became friends – the age my girls are now.

The tears didn’t last long. I was sobbing for a lost youth, I’ll not weep any more over you. We always said we were like sisters.

That makes me laugh now, when I see how close my daughters are. I never knew you really, not realising how much you hated kids.

Of course I’m biased but I really don’t think there’s much to despise about them. I’m proud of my girls. E is mad on Roald Dahl (a bit early I fear, but never mind) and M loves disco dancing.

They're no angels and have their moments – sometimes they shout at each other and stomp about – but hey, don’t we all? E said "f***" last week. You'd've laughed at that.

Perhaps you' weren't a fan of kids because you had a tough time when you were little. Maybe you were scared to get involved.

At 15 you told me you were ‘all grown up’ and could do what you wanted.

You wanted to turn your back on the school bullies who’d picked on you about your spots, the idiots.

You’d show them, you said.

You said you didn’t need to go to university. You joined a local company and your career soared.

Mine sort of did too. Well, I got your old job once when you hit the big time.

But it was the holidays we shared that hold special memories. Mostly, we laughed until we weed. You'd never admit that of course.

Neither of us suspected I may be pregnant on our last one, especially as I strutted around in a size 12 bikini!

When I found out a full two months later. I was delighted.

You’d always known how much I’d feared I couldn’t have kids. And you knew why.

So why didn’t you show any concern these 11 years later when I was told I’d lost my unborn babies?

You never betrayed any emotion when I explained the next week the hospital had got it wrong.

Doctors later told me I may really have lost one but there were still two left.

It was an emotional rollercoaster. You didn’t ride it with me.

Instead, you came to my house and laughed about how I was going to get fat. It was such a shame, you said when I’d spent the last 12 months losing four stone.

I can see you now, in an armchair reading a parenting magazine. You pulled a face and told me I’d get piles.

When you read aloud that I’d be likely to poo giving birth, you looked as though you’d pass out.

And then as you discovered what an episiotomy was, I honestly thought you were going to be sick.

Our phone calls became less frequent.

My mind was on other stuff.

I had to start walking with a stick and progressed to a wheelchair because one of the babies was lying on a nerve, causing great pain in my leg.

You had other friends who were expecting.

You said they were easier to be around. They weren’t going mental like me.

You warned me about labour. You forecast I’d have a really low pain threshold and I’d be climbing the walls.

But it wasn’t like that. It all happened very quickly, too quickly – six weeks early.
I was so worried about my babies. We spent a fortnight in special care.

I couldn't leave their side as they battled jaundice and infections.
You came to see us once in the hospital. It really hurt that you didn’t want to hold either of my girls  – I couldn’t because I was too weak for a while.

You smiled dismissively and said they were ‘too new ’.

Once I was out of hospital, I hardly saw you.

You were so cross I couldn’t drive to you and couldn’t spare the time to visit me. When we did meet, you were bored.

“All I spoke about was children,” you complained.

I heard from other friends you were saying I was a ‘mother earth’ now, surrounded by nappies, sick and shit. 

I’ve hardly seen you since.

I'm stronger now. I'm happy that you were my friend.

But we were never sisters

* This post is a response to Josie's Writing Workshop, inspired by NotSupermum's wonderful post about her letter to her 16-year-old self. I know it's not exactly what was asked for but hey-ho, it's a fictionalised letter to a friend from when I was 16 instead.

Writing this has got me thinking - how has having kids affected your friendships?

The following is a piece I wrote for Babyworld years back:

Caitlin's story:

For Caitlin Anderson, aged 32, proud mum of seven-month-old Lewis, the news she was expecting marked a turning point for the worse in her relationship with her best friend Rosie.

She says: "As soon as she found out I was pregnant, things changed between us. All Rosie could do was go on about the pain of childbirth and point out I may get piles. I tried to ignore her but she was constantly sniping about things that could go wrong and how terrifying having a baby would be.

"I tried to tell her I did not want to focus on the birth but how marvellous loving a baby would be but she did not want to know. I found it desperately sad and hard to believe this was the girl I had been through so much with."

And reveals solicitor Caitlin, of Aberystwyth, the situation didn't improve once Lewis was born.

She says: ""Rosie cannot now talk to me without mentioning how 'awful' it must be having kids, how hard work it must be and how 'lucky' I am to only have one.

"When I mention my son in a positive light, she either says something offensive or is obviously bored. At first I was devastated by this, then I was disappointed and now, though it pains me to say it, I reckon there must be a hint of jealousy there.

"She has made it very clear she sees me as this 'Mother Earth'-type figure while she’s an ambitious career girl. I really don't feel we have much in common anymore – sad, but there you go."

What the experts say

According to psychologist Julia Berryman, Caitlin’s story mirrors that of many women. She says there is a "motherhood club" which may unite women with those who have children already – and divide them from women who don’t.

And she agrees there may be jealousy on the part of the women who do not yet have children – while there may also be jealousy from those who are mothers due to the sacrifices they have made, especially among younger mums.

Dr Berryman, of Leicester University, advises women to stick by their friends even if it seems their baby is "taking over".

She says: "If they value their friendship they should realise this is a temporary phase and be helpful where they can. And the golden rule is never criticise the baby."

Jane's story

But a baby does not have to spell disaster for a friendship, as 33-year-old Jane Williams, of Wolverhampton, mum to three-year-old Theo, explains.

She says: "Nobody told me the balance of friendship can change with the arrival of a baby – in my case for the better.

"My friend Sarah became a mother well before me and, looking back, I don’t think I was a particularly supportive friend after her son Jack was born.

"It got to the stage where I felt that there was little point in visiting – how selfish was that?

"Then Theo came along and the balance was redressed. I could appreciate what I couldn’t before. Sarah and I again have the same things in common. We even plan to go on holiday without the kids next year – but will probably end up talking about them all the time!"

On a lighter note, my lame claim to fame is I once used to go out with a man whose sister ironed Gordon the Gopher.

 

Thanks.

Comments

[Karen]

A thought-provoking piece. The changes that make our lives complete can sometimes shatter things we thought were vital.

[Littlemummy]

I'm not sure what to say Linda. It sounds like your harbouring a lot of hurt over this lost friendship. So much changes when you become a mother it's hard to deal with it all. What matters is you have two great kids and the 'inner happiness' that can't come from holidays and material goods.

[Lynley]

wow that is so sad. I think that looking back, I'm a bit like the last person in the story. When friends had children I just didn't fully understand or appreciate it. This includes when my sister had a baby. It wasn't till I had a baby myself that I 'got' it. That said, I'd never whinge about them going earth mother or anything stupid like that! I just accepted that there was like this black hole that my friend would disappear into for a year, during which we'd pretty much be limited to me popping around for coffee while she sat there distracted until about a year later when suddenly she'd emerge blinking like someone who has just woken up.

[Josie @Sleep is for the Weak]

Oh you. I was all serious and then you made me laugh with Gordon the Gopher.

Funnily enough with my best friend it was the opposite. We had lost touch a bit when she went away to uni but it is since we entered the world of trying for a baby, and infertility problems (in her case), and beautiful babies and poo and sick that we have become so incredibly close. She really is my sister now, as she always has been really, but it is motherhood that has given us that really special relationship.

Interesting post Linda! And thank you for joining in the workshop xx

[Linda]

Hi Karen, LM and Lynley, thanks for commenting so thoughtfully, yes it's a difficult one all right! But this is from a few years back so please don't worry that it's still a major issue for me or anything. To be fair I know I was a nightmare when I was pregnant but I suppose the point I was making was I thought I had good reason. The other person knows how I feel about all of this and we were reconciled up to a point.

[Linda]

Hi Josie, I have plenty to add, like I once stuck my fingers up the nose of the bloke who played Bob Cryer in the Bill. x

[Wendy Mallins]

Sad pieces... but sometimes very true! Pregnancy and babies bring out a whole host of uncontrollable emotions tied up with so many things and sometimes it's just not possible for that 'friend' to carry on being a friend in the same sense as before and just as you feel betrayed by her lack of support and friendship, she probably feels the betrayal from you also, perhaps jealousy, perhaps not - no right... no wrongs... just the wrong friend at the wrong time... but still sad.

[Liz (LivingwithKids)]

Definitely an element of jealousy from your old friend - not because she wanted what you had, but somehow she thought the babies were taking you away from her and maybe she was forced to confront her own feelings about motherhood. I had a similar situation with one of my best friends. She couldn't understand why I couldn't keep partying when I because pregnant/a mum, she thought I'd become boring because I had other things on my mind, and we stopped speaking for quite a while. Now she's a mum herself and I know she feels quite isolated so I try to be there for her, but it still rankles the way she behaved towards me and our friendship has never been the same since.

[Josie @Sleep is for the Weak]

Oh Linda, I thought this was a FICTIONAL letter! I'm so sorry, I didn't realise these were real issues for you. How horribly sad :( Your friend has missed out on so much by not sharing your experience of motherhood with you. I guess being a mum is such an all-encompassing experience that it is hard for woman who have not experienced it to understand. But good friendships are based on empathy and support even when you don't understand - there is no excuse for being so cold :(

[Linda]

Hi Josie, although I was upset at the time and have struggled with my own hurt, I can say years on though that I couldn't hold it against her for not being interested in motherhood per se - fair enough I was pissed off with my own experience in this instance but I wouldn't expect her to understand or want to feel she has to share that experience. This is a one-sided recollection - which has some details changed - she wouldn't think she was being cold, just direct and out of her comfort zone. I wanted to share the "letter" from the point of view from years ago but times have moved on. Anyway, about Bob Cryer...

[Carola]

A beautiful post, thanks for sharing.
My own experience regarding losing friends is from another angle. I decided early on (age about 4) that I didn't want marriage and children and later on as more and more of my friends went down that traditional root they chose to distance themselves from me, because they believed (I think) that I wouldn't be supportive of their new circumstances (ie. understanding and sharing their joys and sorrows that come with family life). They were wrong, but I can't blame them for their concerns or their sense that we no longer had enough common ground to continue being friends.

[Linda]

Hey Wendy - wise words, thanks - he's behind you by the way, hope you don't go the same way as Liam Connor.

Hi Liz - yeah I know where you are coming from, we could never be the same but it took me a long time to not be so upset about that.

[Nataliya]

VERY personal and good on you for sharing it's not easy to talk about crap in our lives but very therapeutic for yourself and inspiration for others!

[Helen]

It's really difficult to find time to eat sometimes when your kids are small, let alone find time to ring mates, I hope true friends can see this is tempoary as the academic points out.

[Tamsini]

You made me cry. Especially the other blog about the loss of one of your little ones and how you went from devastation to relief to amazement. I'm not sure how I would have coped with that if I'm honest.

Interestingly I lost a friend the other way around. It was before I had my daughter. One of my closest friends had a little boy. Prior to his birth I would go around to see her almost every day. Massage her poor swollen feet (she had a terrible time of it, especially since she was 9 months pregnant in the middle of the African summer), take her yummies because they were broke, whisking my fan to her house so she could stay cool in the lounge. That sort of thing. Imagine my surprise when she ended the friendship via a bitter, angry and vile email because she said I was too selfish to have around her child. She told me that my single lifestyle and puerile issues were pathetic in the face of her motherhood. I was crushed. To this day I feel hurt and betrayed. I tried to understand motherhood, I really tried. You can't know it until you've been through it, I know that now, but I've never held it against my unmarried, child-free friends.

[Katie]

I've been very lucky, one of my best friends ended up being my sister in law and now we can bore each other senseless with stories about our children - especially as they are related. Lol.

[Emily O]

It's sad when you lose friends this way, I guess some friendships are never meant to last. Others keep going regardless of what you go through in life and those are the special ones. I wrote a post about troublesome friends post-children a couple of months ago which got some good comments *shameless plug* http://babyrambles.blogspot.com/2009/09/trouble-with-friends.html

[Linda]

Hi Emily - thanks for the link, now trying to figure out which one I could be in my friends' eyes.

Hi Katie - sounds a bit close for comfort to me.

Hi Tamsini - thanks for words of support re all the pregnancy ups and downs, I don't think about it much these days but have written about it plenty. Your experience sounds totally shocking, I'm so sorry to see that could happen. I suppose it can take something life-changing to find out who your friends are. I can understand the level of hurt though, when I was researching a project on bereavement, I had it pointed out to me several times that the loss of a longstanding close friendship can have similarities. I know that if I was in a different mood I would think what I've written here is self-indulgent drivel, some would say that's what blogs are for anyway!

[Karin @ Cafebebe]

Strangely, I have more friends now thx 2 my daughter. But, I've only lived her 4 years so that might be why. Or no 1 likes me!

[Jo Beaufoix]

That must have been so hard to write LInda. I was one of the first of my friends to reproduce at the tender age of 25. A couple of people disappeared for a while but the most important ones stayed around and three of them now have kids of their own. It's so hard to realise that this HUGE thing to you is so unimportant to them. I think until you have a child it's sometimes hard to put yourself in another person's shoes, but it would be nice if they tried just a little bit wouldn't it. In the end it was her loss. Yours too I know, but she lost you and those gorgeous girls. I bet she really does regret it. Hugs.

[Jo Beaufoix]

And yes, my paragraph gene left me for a moment there. Odd.

[Linda]

Thanks Jo, maybe...thanks for the hugs xx

[Cathy]

A moving blog post.

My experience was slightly different. I expected some of my friendships to slip after motherhood, simply because we lived geographically apart and it became much more complicated to see each other.

The loss of a friendship which upset me most, however, was that of a mum I met in hospital when having my first child. We became very close and, quite by coincidence, also had our second children at around the same time. However within months of my younger son being diagnosed with autism she had drifted away.

I think at the end of the day the real friends stay. Those who can't handle another's difficult experience go.

[Karen]

It's at times like this when you find out who your real friends are. As Cathy points out true friends will stick with you through good and bad times. It's a great shame that people you feel are good friends you find out aren't just at the time you need them most.

[Rosie Scribble]

How sad, Linda. Lost friendships are always the worse. Adding children and pregnancies into the mix certainly does seem to alter the dynamics. That's my experience too.

[Very Bored Housewife]

A really moving post. It's sad that your friend felt so threatened by you becoming a mother. Some people are very self centred though and need everyone to fit into their lives and if that balance changes then they can't or won't cope with it.

[Linda]

Hi Cathy. Karen, Rosie and VBH - thanks for all the good wishes and sharing your stories - I think we can all try harder to be considerate of others etc, my problem was that when my hormones were raging and when I had been told I may have lost one baby and was expecting another two and all the ups and downs that brought with it, there wasn't enough room for much else at that time.

[scarlett]

Josie,

Some of us just don't like children. I am fortunate in that my long term friends understand Ive never been interested in having any or being around them and I'm the friend they visit for a break from them- so we're both happy.
PS yes I am happily married, had a happy childhood, can have my own (pill not reliable so I found out so had tubes tied)and those pals that think their child is an exception and force them on me I set straight- and havent lost a friend I didnt want to (those who martyr themselves to motherhood yolk are dreary - you all know who you are!)
By the way- can you ask your parents how to bring up kids properly- this generation of parents are hopeless, thats why there is so much animosity out there them now- too many spolit badly behaved brats- they are everywhere.

Scarlett.