Growing pains

Growing up is hard. Growing up an apart from your friends is harder. I never realized that the greatest event of my life, becoming a mom, would also be the downfall of almost every friendship I had.

When you become a mom, at least for me, any selfishness I had, disappeared. Ok maybe not all, but 99.9% of it, which is a vast improvement from the self-centered Leah I was before. My whole life, day in and day out is made of up selfless acts. My world revolves around my daughter and what SHE needs.

I didn’t realize how difficult it would be continuing friendships with those who don’t have children. Those who can’t fully understand what it means to be selfless every day. Those who are reading this that are parents most likely know what I’m saying. For those of you that aren’t, it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever tried to do in my life.

Continuing a friendship with someone who doesn’t understand the true meaning of selflessness, is like trying to tell a drunk person they’re not drunk. It goes in one ear, and straight out of the other. They argue every possible way they can to prove to you that you’re wrong. It’s annoying. It’s exhausting. It’s awful

The thing is, I get their side too. I understand I’m not “fun” anymore, and im aware that I’m “boring.” I get that it sucks I can’t go to brunch or go out dancing with the girls like I used too. But what I don’t understand is why when you become a mom you’re suddenly “jealous” and “insecure” to your old friends. It’s sad that women these days are conditioned to think your life is over once you’ve had a child. For me, my life just started. My true purpose in life finally arrived. Yet, I’m made out to feel as if it’s only a downhill spiral with lots of guilt and envy.

What I’m trying to say is I might be boring to you, but I would choose this life and having a daughter over and over, and over again. I will choose to never do a single thing for myself again if it means I get to wake up to my beautiful child every morning.

I’m here to say; I am by NO means jealous of your childless, selfish, lifestyle of going out every night. I’m not jealous of your perfect selfies on Instagram, or your flat stomach. I’m not insecure about my life as a mom; I’m hesitant about continuing a friendship that no longer feeds my soul. I’m jealous of the friendship we used to have, and sad about the disappearance of it now. Most of all I’m sorry that you have not experienced what it’s like to be a mother yet and sad that you can’t comprehend that one day all this won’t matter. I’m sad that you couldn’t step up and be a friend when I needed you the most.

I’m sad because I know one day you will be in my position, and you’ll realize how selfish you were. I know you’ll feel this way because I felt this way. I was once you, too selfish to care about anything but myself. I’m sad because there was no other way but to say goodbye to the old us.

I’m not sure what it is, but everything didn’t matter anymore when I became a mom. My sole focus was becoming better for my daughter and raising her strong. Relationships that once mattered the world to me didn’t matter at all. All the superficial things in life disappeared, and I couldn’t pretend to enjoy nonmeaningful conversations anymore. I didn’t try to save a friendship that once meant everything to me.

I’m sad for growing apart from old friendships. I’m sad we could no longer relate to each other. I’m sad that friends thought partying was more important than getting to know my daughter.

What I’m not sad about is choosing my little girl. Choosing to focus on her and her well-being. Choosing to focus on being the best mom possible.

I’m sad that I’ve lost a friend. I’m sad that I’ll probably lose more. But even with sadness, I still have gained the greatest gift…..motherhood.