Rediscovering Friendships After Parenthood
Genevieve Roberts navigates the complexities of parenting and friendships in her weekly column, Outnumbered. Balancing the joys and challenges of raising three children – two daughters and a son – she reflects on the impact of motherhood on her social life.
It’s a humorous understatement to say that I’ve let my friendships slide since becoming a parent. In the past two years, I’ve only managed two nights out with friends. In fact, since the birth of my eldest daughter, Astrid, nearly eight years ago, I’ve ventured out with friends after dark a mere dozen times. The rarity of these outings leaves me feeling a bit apprehensive each time; will I be that mum who, overwhelmed with excitement to escape my responsibilities, ends up downing three glasses of wine and regretting it the next day?
I know I’m not alone in this sentiment. Research from the charity Action for Children reveals that 68 percent of new parents feel “cut off” from their friends post-baby. Additionally, a study published in the journal Demographic Research shows that the strength and quality of friendships typically decline after individuals become parents. This decline is most pronounced when children reach the age of three, a time when they demand the majority of their parents’ attention, though friendships often strengthen again once kids start school.
It’s an easy trap to fall into; the neglect of friendships often feels inevitable, especially when sleep deprivation collides with the pressures of mid-life. For me, the struggle with persistent sleep deprivation can be overwhelming, leading to periods of emotional dysregulation. Moreover, my tastes have shifted dramatically over the past decade. By the time I became a “geriatric mum,” I found that the end of hangovers was long overdue. I’m genuinely thrilled to have traded nights out for playdates and children’s parties.
I fondly recall my sober 40th birthday celebration, during which I was pregnant with Xavi, now five. The thought of multiple wake-ups accompanied by a dry mouth and a splitting headache is utterly unappealing; however, I admire the stamina of friends who manage to juggle both social lives and parenting. Since becoming a parent, I’ve also followed the trend of families moving out of London, seeking a quieter life. Many of my fellow parent friends have scattered, making any outing in the capital a lengthy and costly endeavor.
Earlier this month, I attended a recording of Richard Herring’s podcast with my husband, Mark, as a belated birthday gift. Despite my excitement about a rare night out, I found myself dozing off on the train ride home. We’ve all navigated a pandemic that wiped out social gatherings overnight. I distinctly remember the pubs closing when Xavi was still an infant, thinking it wouldn’t significantly affect my life. Yet, it seems I’ve never fully regained the habit of enjoying long meals out with friends, especially in light of the ongoing cost of living crisis.
Additionally, I met my husband Mark almost four years ago, and we’ve been busy learning about each other, falling in love, and navigating the ups and downs of co-parenting three wonderful children. I often marvel at the joy I feel in being a parent to such kind, humorous children who teach me invaluable lessons daily. However, this joy comes with a sense of unavailability. I frequently grapple with feelings of guilt over not being a better friend and worry that my lack of social engagement might lead my friends to drift away.
Rationally, I understand that many of my friends find themselves in similar circumstances, feeling overwhelmed by their commitments. Yet, that doesn’t stop me from fretting at 4 a.m. while I fumble for a milk bottle, wondering if some friends might feel relieved that I’ve dropped out of circulation, allowing them to loosen the ties of our friendship. Perhaps I wasn’t as integral to their lives as I once believed. While I recognize that some friendships may not withstand this season of neglect, I am confident that most will endure.
What I truly miss is the comfort of my friendships and the shared love that binds us. I’ve come to realize that despite my exhaustion and perceived lack of time, nurturing friendships invigorates me and alleviates my fatigue. My friend from school, Sarah Stevenson, serves as an admirable example. She emphasizes the importance of her deep friendships, which inspired me to seek her wisdom while she was away with friends in Cornwall. Sarah quickly pointed out that having a solid support system is crucial; in her case, it includes her husband and an after-school nanny for her 10-year-old daughter, Luna.
- “I’ve got the means to take time out when I need it,” she says. “I’m a sociable person, and the guilt of neglecting my children, job, or family extends to my friends as well. It’s a conscious choice.”
- Sarah engages in discussions with Luna about the value of friendships. “Prioritizing friendships isn’t selfish; it’s a vital life lesson,” she explains.
- “I’m proud that Luna sees me supporting my friends and doing nice things for them, like baking them a cake.”
She rarely drinks alcohol but finds moments throughout her day to connect with friends, whether it’s during a dog walk or a quick coffee after dropping her daughter off at school. Sarah maintains friendships across the country and even Europe, believing that some WhatsApp groups are worth investing in to keep connections alive. “In the absence of being able to meet for coffee, we still share anecdotes to maintain our friendship.”
Recently, she enjoyed a ski trip with other mothers and daughters. “It was a liberating and magical experience for the eight of us: the four mothers and four daughters had a blast, fulfilling all our needs while creating memorable moments with our children,” she shared.
This year, as my youngest, Juno, turns two, I’m determined to strike a better balance with my friendships. I’ve started a weekly sauna ritual with a nearby friend. The combination of sweating, cold plunging, chatting, and laughing is an absolute joy and leaves me grinning from ear to ear afterward. Each year, we go camping with friends in France, cherishing a week of unpressured togetherness, allowing our children to grow up alongside each other as we nurture our bonds.
While boozy nights out may remain a rarity in my life, I’m prioritizing leisurely lunches and family getaways, even if just for a night, to avoid the rush. As I emerge from not only winter hibernation but also the hibernation that comes with having a baby, I recognize that my long absence from socializing may require some courage to reconnect with friends. I’m particularly aware that picking up the phone to call someone seems to have shifted from a spontaneous act to something we schedule like an appointment.
If I don’t receive a reply or hear that they’re too exhausted or overwhelmed with their own family commitments to meet up, at least I’ll understand that it’s merely a phase in their lives as well. In this ever-evolving journey of parenting, I’m hopeful that, together, we can find our way back to the friendships that once brought us joy.
