Can Female Friendship Survive Adulthood, Motherhood, and More?

I never thought parenthood would affect my friendships. Not mine, at least. Ours would be the anomalies. 

The final time my college girlfriends and I got together before I had my twins, the five of us huddled around a spotless white table-clothed booth on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. The din of the Italian restaurant caused us all to lean forward to hear each other, as we shared life updates, and laughed. Massively pregnant, I couldn’t lean in quite as far as they could.

“I swear you guys,” I said, my hand on my belly. “I won’t be one of those moms who abandons her friends. Nothing will change! We’ll still have our regular girls’ dinners. Promise.”

“Of course, Zibs,” one said.

“Totally,” another added.

I sighed. Relieved. 

“Great!”

Nothing to worry about. I’d just make the time. Easy, right?

Fast forward almost 17 years. Yes, those girlfriends are still a part of my life. In fact, two of them are throwing book parties for me for my debut novel Blank. But regular girls’ dinners? Not so much.

I was one of the first in our group to have kids, so perhaps my withdrawal from the regular meet-ups was most noticeable. But one by one, we all ducked out. Bath time replaced cocktail hour. Many of us were in the weeds: Bedtime struggles. Potty-training. Pre-school admissions. (We’re New York moms, after all). 

But we weren’t in the same patches of weeds because we had kids at different times. What I didn’t know back then was just how close I would get, in fits and starts, to the moms going through the same exact stages of parenting with me, as my older friends took a backseat. I also didn’t realize how those in-the-trenches relationships would eventually then fade away as soon we dug our way out.

First came my playgroup friends as we urged our babies to sit up, crawl, and coo. Then the two’s program moms who waited outside the door with me as our toddlers screamed about being separated  — we consoled each other that this was the best thing for them. (Was it? Who knows?!) 

Then preschool parties, kindergarten socialization, and on and on. Now, I barely know the parents in my twins’ classes. They’re sophomores in high school, they do their own thing. And I’m also trying to keep up with my younger kids in fourth and third grade.

Have my college friends, like my protagonist Pippa’s in my novel Blank, remained part of my everyday life? Sadly, no. My days are filled with the parents of my two younger kids’ friends, selected by them exclusively, and with my work colleagues, and family. 

Luckily, my girlfriends and I take an annual or bi-annual girls’ trip, designed to pack in the time for all the conversations we would have had all year long. It isn’t the same, but what I learned from some of those fleeting parent-friendships is that these OG friends aren’t going anywhere, regardless of what life stages we’re in.

My old friends, who I lived with, who I loved with, who I learned and cried and grieved and partied with, aren’t in my calendar, but they’re in my heart, keepers of our collective memory. And now that some of our kids don’t need us as much, we’re finally able to make a little more time for each other. 

A few of us met in the Yale Club lounge last week. Immediately, I kicked into my college personality. We picked up where we left off, joking about Roblox, Taylor Swift, and our kids. I skipped an important author event to linger and laugh. As I did the mental calculus — could I fit in two events before my kids’ playdates ended? — I realized, quite simply, that this, these women, my old friendships, were so important that it shouldn’t even have been a question. 

What’s more important? An author giving a talk or friends you rarely see? 

Of course, I stayed, and it was worth every second.

When I got home that evening after my younger kids had said goodbye to their friends too, we all compared notes. I loved that they could see me as a friend to others, not just a mom to them. That’s how I want them to be. One day, I want my kids to spend an extra hour with their college friends and not make a big deal about it. 

Pippa’s girlfriends in Blank all group text constantly. (That’s probably one of the reasons the book is #1 in the Friendship Fiction category on Amazon!) While that might not be the case for all friend groups — it isn’t for me (in the real world, moms don’t have time to text!) — just like Pippa, I know that when things turn upside down, these friends will be there, as I will for them.

I was wrong that night before my kids were born: Things did change with my girlfriends. But what didn’t change is far more important than what did: our timeless loyalty to the relationships that take little tending to survive. Now, freed of weeds. Evergreen.