Author: Katie

When You Become Pregnant, Suddenly No One Wants to Be Your Friend

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Let me preface this post by saying this: I am not really a people person. I mean, I’m friendly enough, but if I have the choice between staying at home and going out into the world where there are actual people, I’d choose staying at home just about any day of the week. I’m not very social.

I don’t really know why, though. In college, I was always making friends and going to parties and trying to do as much, see as much, meet as many new people as possible. I’m not quite sure what changed. I know it wasn’t motherhood, because my anxiety about going out into the real world started to set in well before that, but maybe becoming a mom solidified the feeling for me.

I vaguely remember having a conversation with my boyfriend a couple of years ago about maturity, and he claimed that I’d sort of left him in the dust in that department; while he was still keen on going out to parties, spending as much time with friends as possible, making silly jokes, and just finding joy in the little things, I no longer had a desire to do that. I preferred solitude, or just hanging out at home with him, and at some point, I had become a bit more serious than in years past. Was that what I had to look forward to as I got older? Losing my sense of humor and becoming a hermit, only emerging into the world when I ran out of groceries or was forced to do so? That didn’t seem like much fun at all.

Despite the fact that I practically had to be dragged out of my apartment by my boyfriend, with my arms and legs flailing the whole way, I almost always ended up having a good time anyway. And I still had friends. I had a lot of friends, actually. We hung out, we went to the bar, we texted each other, I had people to confide in and let loose with.

Then I got pregnant.

For some reason, when you get pregnant, something weird happens with most of your friendships. They start to dwindle away. It’s this magical process that a lot of moms I talk to tend to complain about. “I got pregnant and my friends stopped talking to me.” Maybe it’s not quite as dramatic as it sounds, but it does sting a little when you watch your friendships disappear because of a baby on the way. It’s usually because you’re in different places in your lives; while some people still want to be able to go out and party and have the ability to make plans at a moment’s notice, you’re waiting something that’s going to change your life forever.

Once that baby is born, everything changes. No more late-night trips to the grocery store for no reason in particular. No more evenings at the bar, complaining about your day with a group of friends you work with, awaiting next morning’s hangover. No more doing anything on your own. Every decision you make impacts this little person that you created. Parenthood is both a blessing and a curse in this regard.

Since I had a baby, I’m pretty sure I’ve hung out with friends less than a dozen times. It always takes a while to get myself out, but once I’m out, I’m usually thankful for the push. I got to catch up with a good friend today, who also got to meet my daughter for the first time, and it was a nice little way to end my afternoon. It makes me wish I had more friends – specifically, I wish I had more “mommy” friends. I just don’t seem to have many around here, and being a stay-at-home mom, it would be nice to have a little adult interaction from time to time. It would also be nice for my daughter to have play dates and meet children her own age. Maybe in time, I’ll come to meet more moms. Maybe when my old friends start having children of their own, I’ll have a few more people to connect with.

I just wish that someone had warned me that this would be something I’d have to worry about once I had kids. Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m not very social.

A Reflection on the Last Six Months

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When I was a kid, I wish I’d listened more to what my family members had to say regarding children and parenting. I remember my grandma telling me about how I just “grew up so fast” and that I’d never really understand what it’s like to watch a child grow up until I had children of my own. I chalked this up to just “grandma being grandma” – you know, one of those things that goes in one ear and out the other and you don’t pay much mind to it – but she was right. Tomorrow will be my daughter’s six month birthday and I can’t believe how fast these past few months have come and gone.

It’s hard to believe that just over six months ago, my due date (January 18) had come and gone and I was still as big as a whale, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my firstborn. I remember when the day to induce finally came around. I spent my time alternating between cleaning, getting my bag packed, cleaning, and trying not to freak out. (I’m pretty sure that’s also the day that I figured out that my maternity leave was all sorts of screwed up and I had no idea when I’d have an income again, but that’s a story for another day.)

I remember walking into the hospital and checking in at the nurse’s station, being escorted into a room where my induction would take place, answering about a million questions, and then patiently waiting for the doctor to come in and start the whole process. I remember the anxiety, the boredom, the excitement, the terror, the happiness,  the pain, and the relief of knowing the long pregnancy was about to be over. I pretended to be calm. I was ready to meet the little girl that had been growing inside me for the past several months and I was ready for my pregnancy to be over with; on the other hand, I was completely unprepared for what was to come. I was not ready to be someone’s mom, but when you think about it, who really is until it happens?

I still think a lot about Boo’s birth. I remember that final push and the doctor telling me to reach down and grab her, to pull her up to my chest; I remember the way she felt, the way she smelled, the way she laid in the middle of my chest for the first time, so still and calm and quiet. Surprisingly, I was also still and calm and quiet, and during those first few moments that she was on my chest, all I could think was, “It’s over. She’s here.” There’s nothing more surreal than meeting your baby for the first time.

She was perfect. Eight pounds and eight ounces of pure perfection. I was happy, exhausted, relieved; my time as “being Mommy” had officially begun.

The first few weeks were sort of a blur, as I’m sure it is for any parent the first time they bring a new baby home from the hospital. For a short time, I will admit, I was miserable – sleep deprivation will do that to you. I felt like a bad mom because there were times where I resented my situation. I don’t really know who I was mad at – maybe my boyfriend, maybe myself, maybe even the baby – and it took me a long time for those feelings to pass. Then, when they did, I found myself going back to work and hating myself for leaving her in the care of someone other than me. Postpartum hormones really do a number on your mind sometimes.

In a way, it’s been a very long six months, and yet it’s gone by way too fast. She’s getting bigger and smarter everyday. She’s learning new things all the time. I’ve realized recently that sometimes, I need to just take a step back and enjoy her now, just live in the moment, because she’s not going to be this little forever. There will come a day when I’ll look back and wish that I’d appreciated the time a little bit more.

Having to Go Back to Work

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Before I had my daughter, I knew I would be going back to work after she was born. After all, the bills still have to be paid and I have a $50,000+ degree just sort of sitting around doing nothing. I figured I’d spend my maternity leave looking for new jobs – something full-time with benefits, maybe something related to my degree if I could – and I could quit my part-time job and feel like a real adult.

Then, I gave birth and I bonded with this little person that I created.

I fought against the possibility of a C-section, I fought hard to breastfeed even when it was extremely painful and uncomfortable, and I fought a lot of the advice I was given by other parents when I didn’t necessarily agree with it. I have fought every step of the way to make things work for us and I’m now fighting against the prospect of needing to go back to work. What if I can’t produce enough milk to set aside for her while I’m there? What if my milk dries up completely? What if she starts to prefer someone else over me? What if she forgets me altogether? What if she starts crawling or talking or walking and I miss it because I’m at work? What if something bad happens while I’m not here? What if she needs me?

I knew months ago that this day would come, but back then, I didn’t realize how attached I was going to feel at the end of my maternity leave and now all I want to do is stay here and be a mom. If you had told me six months ago that I’d want to be a stay-at-home parent, I would have laughed at you. It was never in the cards for me back then. Not only did I need my job to help pay the bills, but I would have never dreamed I’d enjoy sitting at home, taking care of a little one every hour of everyday for the rest of my life. That wasn’t me. I respected women who did it, but I never thought it would be an option for me.

And then this beautiful, perfect little person entered my life and all I want to do is be with her all the time. I want to be here when she needs me. I want to be here for all of her “firsts.” I don’t care about my degree or finding a great-paying job anymore. I haven’t since we brought her home. Motherhood is my calling; too bad the rest of the world doesn’t seem to agree. Bills still have to be paid, food still has to be put on the table, and if I don’t go back to work, we don’t make enough money on one income to make ends meet. I’m still learning to accept the fact that I have to leave my daughter in the hands of a friend while I’m away, a friend that I trust implicitly with the well-being of my daughter, but worries are still there. No one can take care of my baby the way I can, and I would say just about every mother feels this way, and I’m still figuring out how to deal with how I’m feeling.

In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the rest of the day with my baby girl because tomorrow, after more than two months, I’ll be back at work where I left off, with just a little more on my mind. Wish me luck.