Friends after babies

I’m crabby this week. My baby’s sick, in pain and it’s making me feel sad.

I REALLY don’t want to hear a play-date-Mom-friend say, “What!? He’s sick again? What is going on over there? My kids never get sick. Ever. Just a stuffy nose. Maybe a little cough. I’m so lucky. Maybe it’s cause I’m nuts about using antibacterial. Plus, I nursed my children exclusively. Wow… he’s on meds again? “. Only to call back and say it all over again the next day.

Then when I say I “have to go” (or else I’m going to tell her she’s impossibly insensitive and can’t help her one-upping, even in the wake of my child’s illness…), she changes the subject and keeps talking.

Oh, for goodness sake. Save me.

So this time, I’m not taking her calls.

In the sting and silence that follows a conversation like that, I really start missing my (before babies) friends.

Lately, I’ve taken inventory of my go-to friends, and realize that I’m kinda alone in the girlfriend department. I mean. I have a handful of dear friends, but I don’t call them to talk about this stuff. Mainly cause when I can call, they’re in the middle of their work day. Or after the kids are asleep, and I have some time, I just want to stare at the wall and I’m all out of steam. I tell you, sometimes it’s all I can do to brush my hair and apply lip balm before my husband gets home so we can chill-out.

The truth is, I devoted a whole lot of time to my friends before I had babies, but not so much afterward. I’ve been lazy with them. Self involved. Building my new identity, living this new life. So, naturally, while we keep in touch through facebook, email, sometimes phone and even less frequent face-t0-face dates, I feel disconnected from my confidants.

Now I spend time with women who have kids my age, but I don’t know them well. We have kids in common, and I’m starting to find other areas of common ground, but it takes time.

Truth is, though, I still feel like I’m floating, un-tethered to the gals I’ve fostered a sisterhood with. And this is a bit painful.

The isolation you hear about motherhood is real. At least it is for me.