
When I became a mom, something subtle but powerful happened:
My mom-friends came closer.
And my non-mom friends… slowly drifted away.
It wasn’t dramatic. Just a quiet, natural shift. And honestly, I get it. Our lives started to look completely different. While I was padding up and down the stairs at 3 a.m. to pump and get bottles, they were out at concerts, sipping cocktails, sleeping in on Saturdays. I didn’t expect them to pause their lives — but I also didn’t expect to feel so left behind.
Let’s be real: not many non-parents are volunteering to sniff a diaper just because “it smells weird” (shoutout to Ty for doing exactly that — forever the MVP).
But still, I couldn’t help but wonder… is there a way to hold onto those friendships, even when our worlds no longer look the same?
Becoming a mom is more than a role change — it’s a full-body, full-soul transformation. Your hormones shift, your brain rewires, your priorities flip upside down. And you suddenly become hyper-aware of this tiny, fragile human who depends on you for everything.
For me, that shift came with postpartum depression, heavy anxiety, and an obsessive need to do everything right for my premie baby. Every nap, every feeding, every developmental milestone felt like life or death.
And around the 4–6 month mark, even as things stabilized, I realized something was off. I felt like I was underwater. I loved my baby deeply — but I missed me.
I missed conversations that weren’t about spit-up. I missed wearing clothes that made me feel confident, not just comfortable. I missed feeling light, spontaneous, and fun. I missed my friends.
And that’s when it hit me: while I was deep in the cocoon of baby snuggles (a beautiful place, no doubt), the rest of the world kept moving — and some of the people I thought would always be there… weren’t anymore.
Now don’t get me wrong: mom friends are absolute gold. These are the women who welcome you into their home with a baby on their hip and a lukewarm coffee waiting. They don’t care what you look like, they just get it. You can be your full messy, sweats-wearing, baby-talking self — no apologies.
They see you and your struggles without you having to explain a thing.
But there’s something about your non-mom friends — the ones who knew you before the baby, before the transformation — that helps you feel a little more… you. A little more grounded in your pre-mom identity. A little more human and less like a 24/7 snack dispenser.
Those friendships matter, too.
Maybe you didn’t know what to say.
Maybe you thought I was too busy or too tired or too “in mom mode” to want to hang.
Maybe you were waiting for me to reach out.
And I get that. But here’s what I wish you knew:
I still needed you.
I still need you.
Even if I couldn’t always respond. Even if I had to cancel last-minute. Even if it took me three business days to text back. I missed you. I wanted you there — in my life, in my corner, even in the chaos.
And as much as I love my child, I crave adult connection. I want to talk about your dating life, your new job, your family drama, that weird dream you had last night. I want to come to happy hour, to dance a little, to laugh too hard at dumb jokes, to remember who I am outside of “mama.”
And bonus? Watching you love my kiddo, even in the tiniest ways, is enough to make me cry in public. (It’s fine. I cry a lot now.)
Let’s meet in the middle.
To my fellow moms:
Once the fog starts to lift, reach out.
Make the plans. Say yes, even when it’s hard. Follow through. Don’t always bring the kids. Don’t feel like you can only exist in “mom” mode.
To my non-mom friends:
Keep inviting us.
Even if we say no. Even if we flake sometimes. Even if we’re tired.
We’re still in here — still your friend, still the same soul. We’re just learning how to be someone new.
Friendship during motherhood takes grace, patience, and a little bit of grit. But it’s worth it — because these bonds? They can grow deeper, more honest, more real than ever before.
So here’s your gentle reminder today:
Check on your friends.
All of them — the ones with babies and the ones without.
Send the text. Plan the dinner. Drop off the coffee. Ask how they really are.
Because we all need each other more than we admit.
xoxo,
Alley
July 8, 2025