To My Childfree Bestie On Mother's Day
Dear A,
I’m sure this letter will surprise you today of all days but it felt fitting to honor you on this day. Our friendship has endured many things in the 15+ years that we’ve known each other. We’ve helped each other through heartbreak, sickness, moves to new cities, the abusive culture of academia, and sooo much more. Hell, we’ve even gone almost two years without speaking and then picked back up like nothing ever happened.
The latter is why I’m writing this letter to you. Seven years ago when we started speaking again I found out I was pregnant shortly afterward and I was terrified that it would mean the end of our friendship for good. Don’t worry it’s not anything that you did. It’s because of all the horror stories I’ve read about what happens when one friend decides to have children. Everything says that friendships change but not for the better in that regard. It felt bittersweet to start bonding again only to know that in a few short months things would be back to the previous two years.
What I forgot was that neither of us has ever been really good at following what society tells us we should do. Instead of ditching me when I fell down the mothering waterhole, you patiently helped to pull me out. Instead of being annoyed or rolling your eyes when I started to write about motherhood, you read my posts and shared them. You even gave me ideas for posts. Instead of thinking I was ridiculous for subscribing to a specific parenting method, you would look up things to help me and if you ever saw a parenting article that focused on attachment parenting you sent it my way. Instead of being frustrated when you would FaceTime me and Sesame was yelling in the background, you asked to talk to him and showed him your dog to help me distract him. When Sesame got older and I started freaking out about the fact that there were kids his age reading, you reminded me to just relax and that not everyone reads at 3 or 4. You even called your mom to ask her for advice to give me because I was worried about his preschool being so white.
You’ve never made me feel guilty for my choice to slow down my academic career to focus on motherhood. Instead, you pushed me to find something that might make me just as happy as being a mother. I think you knew before I did that academia wasn’t going to be the end all be all for me but you just quietly waited for me to figure it out. And I got to support you right back when you took your first academic job and then applied for fellowships. It didn’t matter that we weren’t both heading on the tenure track road. Our friendship wasn’t going to fall apart because I strayed from what we’d discussed for years.
And then when I got pregnant the second time, I waited for the disappointment because I still hadn’t finished my dissertation. Nope, you were just as excited as Sesame that I was finally giving him a sibling. When I decided to show off my pregnant body, you cheered me on and reminded me that I was beautiful. When I started having marital problems, you didn’t judge me or tell me what to do. You just listened. You reminded me not to make permanent decisions based on temporary emotions and lots of hormones lol. You talked me through making a postpartum pregnancy plan so that you would know how to support me if I fell down the rabbit hole.
And then Blueberry was born and boy did I fall down the rabbit hole. I stopped responding to texts in a timely fashion. I barely did anything except inhale my baby and you still didn’t make me feel bad. You gently sent me text messages to see if I was following the plan. When I was reluctant to respond, you gave me television show ideas to watch to get through the constant nursing sessions. You binge-watched shows with me and had marathon text message convos about women monarchs in England. I reminded you that you could text me late at night if you were in the hospital because I’d be up with the baby anyway. It felt like when you first moved to Chicago and I was living in Atlanta. Back when we were both so lonely and adjusting to lives in a new city. We were still there for each other even though our lives were so different.
You often thank me for still including you in my life after I got married and had children. You thank me for still trying my hardest to make time for you and our friendship. You thank me for still being your friend.
The truth is I need to thank you. Thank you for being so understanding. Thank you for helping me navigate motherhood even though that’s not your path. Thank you for always reminding me that motherhood isn’t the whole of my identity but also never ever judging me when I let it succumb me. Thank you for taking time out of your life to reflect on your own childhood to help me with my own parenting. Thank you for forgiving me and coming back into my life when I needed you most.
Thank you for helping me dispel the myth that childfree women and mothers can’t be friends. Thank you for being my best friend.
I love you,
Danielle
