Dear Child-Free Friend,
(I call you child-free rather than childless because childless has such a negative connotation to it, doesn’t it? I know you’re happy as can be, living your life with your husband, and there’s no yearning for a child right now.)
Thanks for inviting us up for the weekend. We had such a wonderful time. All of us: me, Michael, and our 6-month-old. You are the queen of hospitality. You greeted us with handcrafted cocktails that you’d been perfecting all week, with specially-curated ingredients. You talked about all the fun things the two of you have been doing together recently: your garden teeming with fresh vegetables, the sourdough bread that (after hearing about the process) I know now is a labor of love, and the homemade cheese (What?? You guys have been making cheese together?? My dream date!). Listening to you two talk about your romantic and idyllic life together makes my heart swell. I love you both dearly and love seeing you in love with each other. I promise I was listening.
But I’m so sorry about the fact that I seemed distracted the entire time you were talking. It’s just that my daughter is so very needy right now. She can’t really communicate, and I promise she’s not always this fussy. Babies are so sensitive to routines and changes. Your house is lovely, but it’s not her house. It’s not her crib. It smells differently and makes weird noises. Sorry, she won’t stop crying.
I’m sorry I have to keep jumping up while we’re talking to check on her. You know, she doesn’t eat well as it is, and any distraction will keep her from nursing. The breakfast you made us is beautiful (down to your home-grown eggs!), but I’m sorry I’m not eating much. I’m tired. She didn’t sleep well in the Pack N’ Play, and she woke up three different times last night. I promise I’m having a good time, but let me just go rock her in a different room for a bit to see if I can get her to eat more.
I’m excited for all the activities you have planned for us today, but can we make sure we’re back to the house around 10 and again at 2? That’s when she naps. Gosh, I know it’s super inconvenient, but we try to keep her on schedule as much as possible. I’m sorry my whole day now revolves around this 17-pound person, but let’s see if we do have time to run to that greenhouse you wanted to show us.
I know you’re looking at me and you see a run-down, frazzled, preoccupied, permanently-exhausted person where your friend used to exist. I know you’re looking at my daughter and thinking, “I mean, she’s cute but, maaaannn, is she a lot of work.” I get it. That was me literally six months ago. But you know what you don’t see?
That last night, the third time she woke up and we were snuggling in the chair, we watched the sun come up together. I held her close, she nestled up against me, and, let me tell you, she smelled like absolute heaven. That sleep-deprived moment is one that I’ll hold close to my heart for the rest of my life.
You didn’t see how giddy she was when I rewarded her with a little piece of strawberry after she finally nursed. She loves strawberries, and I was so happy she finally ate enough milk. Her little face nearly split open with a smile, and she laughed so hard she started screeching.
You didn’t see how, when she was sobbing and seemingly inconsolable, she immediately calmed down when her daddy held her and started rocking her. I know you’re not there yet, but if and when you decide to have kids, you’ll see your husband in a whole new light. Yes, I know he’s pretty awesome right now, but just wait. You’ll love him even more. Just wait.
Listen, I know I’m not the same girl I was six months ago. I know I’m not the best friend right now. I promise I’m trying. I’m struggling a bit with my identity right now. I know it seems like it’s not all worth it. I’ve felt those same feelings, seeing our other friends become moms before I did. But it is worth it. It so is. You’ll see.
But, in the meantime, enjoy your husband. Enjoy your life together. Savor every free moment together, every fancy dinner and weekend getaway, every new hobby you explore together. Bask in the thought that life is perfect, and that this is as good as it gets. But know that you’re wrong. When you decide to have a child together, your life will be so much richer.
Love,
(Still your same friend, I promise)
Caitlin
