It’s Me, Your Childless Friend… Will You Still Love Me?

I’m at the point where my friends and I’s lives are starting to diverge. We are no longer sharing the same moments, milestones or lifestyles. For some of us, Motherhood has always been a planned destination. Others? (Me) It’s a question of uncertainty. The way we start to weigh and prioritize has changed. Some of us are starting college funds for toddlers, others are spending that amount on shoes. (ahem, me.)

It’s hard to not feel like the choices I make as a childless friend aren’t judged. My time is mine to be selfish with and I love that. I’ve made peace that my decision is that I want to be able to control my time and money. (As much as one can.) I’m glad that I’ve been honest with myself and not forced myself into something I’m not committed to.

We don’t talk about grief or fear of change in friendships. And I want to change that. Today is me talking about my fears as your childless friend. It’s a raw account of the love I receive from being the “aunt” to my friends kids but also the fear I had of the change they would bring.

I’m the cool aunt in their kids lives who gets to walk in and out when it best suits my travel schedule. But I’m also the cool aunt who can’t be there for a Tuesday night recital. Or has to switch off birthday years because the world hates me and made two incredibly important kids in my life have the EXACT same birthday.

And as much as I love those kids, every time their parents tell me they are anticipating another child I know I will love JUST AS MUCH, I feel a pang. The grief of change and the unknown. I’m just the childless friend who suddenly has even less in common with those she holds closest.

The Start of Changing Phases

Let me put it this way, when my friend Jessica told me how far along she was, I could easily do the math. We were very in-sync about what was happening. I was so happy for her, for all of my friends who were or had babies. All of my messages were convincing that I was happy for them. “It’ll be okay. It’ll just be different…” I told myself. But I wasn’t okay. I felt like I had been suckerpunched and didn’t want to tell someone something so happy for them scared me. The same two feelings hit me with every single pregnancy or adoption announcement from friends. Genuine excitement and anticipatory grief of our relationship changing.

Struggling With Dissonance

How do these two emotions exist? How am I simultaneously excited to see my friend continue the life they want while feeling like wind was knocked out of me? How do I hold both of our feelings? The existence of joy, mourning and grief for ending a phase of friendship while ushering in a new one is so bittersweet. Sometimes that season means you grow closer after a time. On the other hand, sometimes your worst fear comes true and that season ends. Every time I can feel that chapter opening when a friend is adding to their family I feel myself holding my breath, waiting to see which one it’s going to be.

The Aha Moment

I spent a lot of time (well, nine months) trying to figure out why all of this was so hard for me. I want my friends to be the absolute best they can be. They are incredible and want them to know I think they are. My fear was having a child would stop that. Listen, I know that’s not the right mindset. Jessica, you can see her here, told me, it’s not that my life is over or my identity is over. “My identity added a layer.” Jessica wanted children.

It never dawned on me that we would have different life paths. Our path in college was to survive and eat crunch chicken cheddar wraps. She already respected my life path, “Why is this hard for me to understand hers?” That moment of clarity of how she viewed her own change helped me. She’s still my best friend Jessica, but she expanded herself (literally and figuratively) to have a new identity.

She added to who she is. Suddenly it wasn’t so scary, it was actually brave to me. To seek out and create a new identity when so many of us try to stay the exact same? That transformed my thought about the arrival of Charlotte.

Charlotte arrived. I didn’t hear from Jessica for a while (like two days) and I didn’t know what was happening. They went to the hospital and had no signal. There were many things happening at that time for them. Selfishly all I felt in that moment was clueless, helpless and not as important in their lives as I thought. And then I got the notification of a Hangouts message from Jessica. It wasn’t in my contacts as “New Mom Jessica” it was “Jessica” my friend, just with an expanded identity. I held my breath for months. I so desperately didn’t want to disturb her. Or miss a message. So I minimized my life, which meant I was holding back. I wanted Jessica. I missed her but I didn’t want to be so much she didn’t come back.

Out of the blue Jessica just said to me, “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be there for you as much but you are important to me.” I most likely didn’t acknowledge the significance (three years later I am) of that moment. That made me take my first breath in months. She wanted me too! She wanted to be friends! It wasn’t Jessica the mom, or Alissa the childless friend, it was Alissa and Jessica.

I Wouldn’t Trade “My Neices” for Anything

Cecilia, Charlotte, Florence, Elsie and Louise, I love you so much. And to the unknown children Kara will probably have, I love you too. I want every one of you to grow up to be fiercely feminist, proud and fearlessly making the world better. know I’m I’m not your biological aunt, but I’m your aunt. The one your mom definitely yelled, “ALISSSAA!” when I’ve said something inappropriate. I’ve probably eaten guac off your head when I was babysitting you. I’m here for you. The road to me adjusting to your in our lives might not be smooth, but I’m glad you’re here.

For Me… Right Now, Will You Still Love Me?

There’s a lot of life I still have to chase after. I can do life on my own. There’s no reason I need to wait on anything to have a partner. Life never stops, regardless of the season you’re in. Don’t wait for someone else to take you into the next season. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is promised to us.

So yeah, it’s me, your childless friend who kind of doesn’t always know what to say. Can we still be friends? Can we still make sure we both try? I know our lives are going to go in very different directions, but can we always anchor in each other? I don’t know if I’ll ever have kids. I’m sorry I’m not the person who hit all the milestones at the same time as you. I wonder if I’ll ever even hit those milestones, or if they are even for me? Can you promise you’ll be there for me even if I don’t? Or if I do?

Love, Alissa