Everything is a phase. This was the best piece of advice I received as a new—and young—mom. It was true as I waited out sleepless nights with a newborn and struggled with the fact that none of my friends had kids yet, and it continues to be true as I navigate the endless series of choices that make up life.
When I finished college, I was anxious to begin the next phase of my life, and my husband and I decided to start a family. I was only 23, but I didn’t think much of my age or what my friends were doing. In my naïvety, I pictured myself perfectly balancing the responsibilities of parenting with a successful career as an I-didn’t-know-what-yet.
As a younger expectant mother, complete strangers seemed to think it was appropriate to walk up to me, congratulate me, and ask if I had been trying to get pregnant. I’d hold my tongue and smile politely at the implication that—because of my age—my pregnancy must have been unplanned. But as much as I had prepared for the change that was coming, my confidence was replaced with fear as my due date crept closer. And when a nurse wheeled me into the recovery room after giving birth, I looked down at my baby boy with his beautiful, long eyelashes and was suddenly acutely aware that my life would never be the same. It was also the first time I had ever held a newborn.
Having a child in my early 20s felt isolating, and in many ways I still felt like a child myself.
My first couple weeks of motherhood were rough, to say the least. I struggled with anxiety, the baby blues, and exhaustion from being up at all hours of the night, and I was too anxious to sleep when I had the opportunity. My friends were excited to hear about my new life, and would text me to ask for updates. “I’m OK,” I’d respond. “I’m just really overwhelmed.” Though sympathetic, my friends had no idea what I was going through since they hadn’t experienced it firsthand. Over the next year or so, as I adjusted to the ups and downs of parenting, I began to feel distanced from my childless friends. I was busy with parenting duties, and socializing now seemed to take an enormous amount of effort compared to my pre-baby days. And when I did feel up to it, I struggled to relax and connect with my friends because I felt like our lives were so different.
While some of the emotional challenges I faced postpartum were unexpected, I wasn’t surprised that my friends were choosing to hold off on having kids. More women are choosing to have children in their late 20s and early 30s, particularly college-educated women who want to focus on their careers. In fact, a study released by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in 2017 found that there were more women having children in their 30s than those in their 20s for the first time in recent history. And this seemed true for my group of friends too, who were working full-time, traveling, or in graduate school while I was at home changing diapers, watching each day blend into the next.
I couldn’t relate to my childless friends, but I couldn’t relate to the other moms either.
Having a child in my early 20s felt isolating, and in many ways I still felt like a child myself. In a short time, I had moved out of my mom’s house, gotten married, and graduated from college. Now staying home with an infant day after day, I felt like I was putting my life on hold. In college, I had imagined I would find a full-time position doing something I loved right away, like teaching or writing. But once I became a mom, I knew I wanted to be home during the day, so I worked part-time tutoring. Still, not having an established career before having children made me feel uncertain about the future, and I wondered if I should have built a more stable life for myself before jumping right into parenthood.
I was envious of my childless friends as they focused on their careers. And the few moms I did know were fully settled into adulthood and life as stay-at-home parents, which was just as foreign to me. They were several years older than me and seemed to be on a different level than me as more seasoned adults. Unsure of where I belonged, I was stuck in a kind of purgatory. I couldn’t relate to my childless friends, but I couldn’t relate to other moms either.
And so, in purgatory, I waited. But as time passed, I grew more confident in myself as a mom, and my focus began to shift. I started taking my kids (I have two now) to the library for storytime and music or yoga classes. I tried a mom group, but ultimately decided it wasn’t for me. Our days aren’t filled with playdates, but we stay busy. I learned that being a younger mom meant that I’m at my healthiest and have the energy to run around or climb the jungle gym with my kids. It also means that my children will get to see me grow as a person and in my career as they get older, and I am happy to share that side of myself with them.
When I let go of the idea that I need mom friends, I have more energy to focus on my kids and really being present.
As I adjusted to motherhood, I began to appreciate my childless friends again too. Of course, there is always pressure to be the perfect parent, but without a group of mom friends to compare myself to, I feel like I have a little more freedom to parent how I want without fear of judgment. When I’m around other moms, it’s easy for me to compare my parenting approach to theirs. I begin to question my competency and wonder if I am doing all the right things. Being with my childless friends is different. Because they knew me before I had children, they see me as more than a mom, and I’m reminded that I have an identity outside of motherhood. Rather than envying their freedom, I enjoy hearing about their lives and welcome the break from parenting talk, if just for a few hours.
Recently, I overheard a pair of moms at the park talking as their children played near mine in the sandbox. They were apparently talking about a mutual friend and her son who weren’t there. “She wouldn’t want him to play in the sand anyway,” one of the women started. “She’ll let him watch TV all day, but wouldn’t want to have to give him a bath if he got dirty.” They both laughed, and I went on playing with my kids feeling grateful for the friends I have and the very different world I inhabit, where I’m not constantly competing with other parents. When I let go of the idea that I need mom friends, I have more energy to focus on my kids and really be present.
As I enter my 30s, I am noticing another shift as my friends are beginning to think seriously about having kids. My identity is changing from being the young mom to being the more experienced mom I couldn’t relate to before. Friends now come to me for advice on pregnancy, childbirth, and parenting. They ask for my thoughts on whether they should stay home, change career paths, or go back to work right away. While no one decision is right for everyone, having my kids before focusing on my career has been working well for me, and I enjoy the flexibility of part-time work as a parent. Plus, when my friends are the ones covered in spit-up and dealing with tantrums, I’ll be getting some of my freedom back.
Everything is a phase. For now, instead of searching for a place to belong as a mom, I’ve learned to enjoy where I am—at least, most of the time.