Life Changes (For Other Folks)

Is it terrible that although I'm extremely excited and happy for my best friend Turtle, I'm also a bit sad that she's now a mother? It must be the year of the golden pig or this age bracket we're in, but babies are dropping from the sky left and right, no less than eight from last month until next February for many good friends.

I honestly do find babies cute and often like friends' babies. I'll even go out of my way to make time for them (unless their babies are especially crabby). I love furry animals and sweet, well-behaved kids, but the best part of the day is going home after a day of playing with them, free to do whatever I want, sleep and eat whenever I want.

That mystical biological urge? It has never struck me. There is a coworker of mine, a tomboyish twenty-five year old married for about a year or so, and she tells me that about once or twice a month, this irrational urge in her body screams out "ARGH! I WANT A BABY!" Otherwise, the rest of the time, she feels fine and knows she's not ready yet. A couple of us (all non-children desiring folks) stared at her blankly, likely thinking "Huh. How odd. And how probably annoying that voice must be."

I'm not sad that Turtle is now "one of them" - our friendship remained the same despite her move up north and getting married. I'm sad more on a selfish, personal, childish level. Her husband may have become her number one priority when she got married, but now there is someone who actually requires her love and attention, patience and presence ALL THE TIME. There is no sharing. There is no compromise. It's not that she doesn't have enough love and care for all of us nor no longer wants to be there for me, it's that there is something so much more rightfully important now that will sap any remaining energy, brain cells, and empathy for all my single girl petty woes. I am trivialized in the face of a helpless blob/bundle of joy. I am jealous of a baby because I can no longer be the one that needs to be taken care of when I need a refuge or a shoulder to cry on. She can no longer be my go-to person because I don't want her to fail.

A nanny will take over the guest room I long ago claimed as mine when they first bought their house years ago. There was once that old list of "What Every Woman Should Know By the Time They're 30" saying that every woman should know where to go when her soul needs soothing. That place was up north at her home.

It wasn't until five days after she had delivered that I knew the baby was here. And that was only because I was borderline stalker-like and calling every couple of days near the end to check on her. When her husband (finally) picked up the phone and apologized for not letting me know sooner, he sounded strangely energetic from a brief adrenaline high, though neither of them were sleeping more than an hour at a time. She was too tired to come to the phone, too tired to do much of anything. I felt very sad that hearing about the whole ordeal made me not want kids even more. And then I felt even sadder when I realized I wouldn't hear from her for a long while, that even though her husband was just being kind and protective, it was very much a "Please. Don't call us. We'll call you."

I worry that on top of the "couple friends" that couples tend to make, she will now have a band of "new mother" friends to turn to for discussion of things I can't possibly understand or relate to. I worry that the stupid biological urge will hit me when it's way too late, like in my forties, when it'll be infinitely more expensive and difficult to conceive, and all my friends will be dealing with teenagers and soon to be empty nests while I wrestle with a newborn and make all new "old mother" friends so I have people to relate to. Or worse yet, I worry that the children-laden friends will secretly shake their heads at me if I'm still flitting about, traveling the world alone, wondering about another man/boy, and thinking "poor thing, she's all alone with no children to treasure in her old age." Most of all I worry that I will lose another dear friend ever so gradually to normal life changes, just like I've lost many others before her.