Last week I wrote about feeling left behind. Both in life, and in friendships. However it dawned on me that sometimes we might use the term ‘left behind’ to describe the feeling we have when a friend moves on in their lives, and sort of replaces us with new people. It might describe that we are part of their old life that they have left behind, to make a new one with our replacement.
In the last post I spoke about a friend who was upset when I had my firstborn. This person used the terms left behind and replaced often when describing her feelings about the situation. At the time, both because I was young, and because I couldn’t fathom in the ways my friend could, how much motherhood would change my life, her comments confused and upset me.
Firstly, I reasoned, she did not want to have children, and often spoke passionately about her love of her childfree life and future, so how was I leaving her behind when this was a path she never intended to walk anyway. Secondly, we could still be friends, despite the fact that I would have a baby, and this wouldn’t change anything, would it? I would still be me, we could and would, still be friends. Can you guess which one of us was wrong? In typical fashion, it was me that was wrong.
The friend in question enjoyed late night house parties with loud music and tequila. She knew I did not love any of the above things. I am an early riser, preferring 5am starts to 5am bedtimes. I am not a big drinker as my liver has trouble processing alcohol apparently so it makes me quite ill quite quickly. And I prefer quiet spaces, with a calm energy. So, while she was sad I would no longer be able to attend these gatherings, no part of me thought of this as a loss. I much preferred the idea of weekend picnic lunches at the park with the kid, or quiet dinners at my place after the baby was asleep for the night.
While my friend was seemingly willing to accommodate this change, she enjoyed the idea of me having a mini plus one everywhere I went as much as I enjoyed her parties. So when the baby came along and I was all talk of nappies and breastfeeding, not to mention too tired to get dressed let alone go to the park, it surprised me that she wasn’t as engaged in our friendship. I had tried to still be attentive to her, keep up with the happenings of her life, but it was hard for her to talk to me really, when I was constantly and consistently interrupted by a screaming baby.
She was jealous when I spoke of my new friends from mother’s group and playgroup. I couldn’t understand why. These women were people who had babies the same age as my own. It didn’t mean they were closer or more important than the friends I had before I became a mother. These new women didn’t know me, not the way my old friend did. However, I suppose as it turned out, they knew the person I had become, and she knew the person I used to be. We came to blows when she wanted to visit one day, and I asked her to come a different day, because that was playgroup day.
From her perspective, she should have been the priority, as I saw the others every week, and her less than once a month. From my perspective, I had a new commitment to these friends for our weekly catch up, and it was the only day in the week where I got out of the house and the baby would play without me directly entertaining him. She could come, literally any other of the 6 days in that week. Neither of us was right or wrong. She could easily have agreed to come another day and I could just as easily missed playgroup for that one week. But neither of us was willing to bend to the other’s will. It brought about the very end she feared and foresaw, although honestly I was more naïve and blindsided by it.
From her perspective, she had been losing me anyway, slowly and painfully, while I was blissfully unaware, as I had other things distracting me. She felt she had been watching me replace her for over 2 years, and expecting her to grin and bare it. From my perspective, she didn’t understand motherhood and the constraints on my time and mental energy. That I really couldn’t come to the parties – even if I had a sitter, I had to go home and be a parent early the next morning. I had no desire to stay up all night, even if I could, which I could not. She felt I had stopped showing up to her life, and she had felt no matter how hard she tried, there was no room for her in mine.
We lost contact a long time ago now, and for most of that time, I thought she was wrong. I still don’t think she was right, to be clear, it’s just that now I see I wasn’t right either. As my children race toward adulthood, I sometimes wonder; could she have been more patient with me? Children are only children for a short time really. I have much more freedom these days, and have done really for the past few years at least. Had she waited just 2 or 3 more years, I would begin to re-emerge from the depths of motherhood to spend time with my friends childfree to talk about anything other than children! Maybe her parties would have offered an excuse for a night off, and maybe I might have enjoyed blowing off steam more by then.
But I am not unaware, that having an unfulfilling friendship for 5 years, that used to be extremely close, is painful and challenging and seems like a lifetime. Why should or would she put her own needs on hold for 5 years until I remembered her existence. I can’t say I blame her really. I have friends with children 3 to 5 years younger than my own, and while I was keen for play dates, the children were at such different stages, it was hard finding things everyone wanted to do. And while my kids could go off and play, they either had to follow theirs around all the time, or were constantly interrupted and distracted. Sound familiar?
I had an advantage over my old friend, in that I understood this phase of motherhood, and that it would not last too long, so I was patient and tolerant, and before you knew it, they had all grown up into big kids with some level of autonomy. They could play, we could talk. We could get babyistters and go out without them. Now, the youngest of those kids is 10, and all the friendships survived.
However, I do have one friend contemplating a later in life journey into motherhood, and suddenly, I am in the position of my old friend. Knowing that however unintentionally, our friendship will change, and it is unlikely it will meet my needs. No longer will there be movies and comedy shows and gossip and laughter. Our kids will be far too far apart to be friends, or play. One of mine will probably be an adult by the time her own is even born. Will I be interested in baby talk? Will I be patient with the distractions and interruptions? Will I enjoy playcentres and picnics at the park over movies and comedy shows? Will I feel jealous and replaced by her new circle of friends sharing and relating to her journey as they travel the path together in ways I can’t really. Will I be flexible and find ways to make it work? Or will I also get stuck in loss and resentment for the change? Will I be part of her new life, or only part of her past?
I hope I know the answers to these questions, and can use my own past experiences to ensure a better outcome for us than my old friendship…. But suddenly the feeling of being left behind and replaced feels a lot more palpable. Either way, I will need to move my own life forward too, because change is inevitable and if I don’t, I can see how easy it would be to sit in my grief and loss. I will need to find new ways to meet my needs for fun, and understand this is my problem to fix and not her burden to carry. Otherwise I will feel replaced, and to be honest, I probably wont enjoy sitting back and watching that happen any more than my old friend did.
What goes around, really does come around eventually. It’s a test of what we have learned. I hope I pass. But only time will tell….
❤ Love,
Your Best Friend ForNever
xx
