Not long after my childhood friend Morgan welcomed her first little one into the world, and just before my own journey into parenthood began, I noticed a shift in our phone chats. It was clear that our conversations would never be the same (and I say “never” lightly, as someone who didn’t yet grasp how quickly time would fly). It seemed that our talks became a peculiar blend of me sharing my thoughts while she juggled her baby’s needs, resembling a quirky love triangle of sorts.
“Keep going!” she’d cheer me on, clearly craving some adult interaction. “I’ll be multitasking, but I promise I’m listening!” And I would go along with it, navigating the unfamiliar territory of our evolving friendship that felt so different from what it used to be.
Picture a slideshow, reminiscent of a Michael Jackson music video, with me on one side and her on the other. The image transitions from pulled-back hair to loose curls, cheekbones gradually revealing themselves from baby fat, glasses giving way to contacts, before eventually being replaced by laser surgery. Now, switch the hair to a messy bun, wash off the makeup, and add some dark circles under her eyes. On my side, there’s a question mark hovering over my head as I pause and reflect. Each stage of our friendship looked distinct and had its own vibe, yet the essence of our connection remained unchanged. True friendship means being there for each other.
Now, here we were, trying to redefine what “being there” meant in this new context. We were experimenting with communication that often involved my words being directed at her, despite her attention being pulled elsewhere. It felt odd and confusing, yet I understood that this was the new normal.
It’s widely recognized that having a baby can strain romantic relationships, so why wouldn’t our friendships require some adjustments too? The situation was undeniably different, and I learned to temper my expectations while trusting that she genuinely wanted to listen, which was what mattered most.
Going back to that slideshow, relationships evolve too. Once, being there for each other meant calling anytime a New Kids on the Block video played, just to ensure the other didn’t miss it. It meant writing long letters filled with doodles during my first solo flight across the ocean. It was me assuring her that her ex wasn’t worth her time, so she could move on.
(Imagine adding a baby bump to my side and then taking it away.)
Now, the definition of “being there” is a work in progress, constantly shifting to encompass new forms of support. It can mean responding to a late-night Facebook post to let her know that even though she can’t see my lights from across town, I’m still thinking of her. It means calling from abroad just to check in, or offering to take her child for a playdate so she can take a breather. It even means gifting her something just for her birthday—something that reminds her that she can still enjoy life beyond motherhood, because I want her to know that she can.
It’s about keeping the girl on the left in mind, even as life changes.
In summary, true friendship after becoming a parent is about adapting to new dynamics, supporting each other in unexpected ways, and ensuring that the core of your relationship remains intact despite the changes.