Grace, Friendship, and Motherhood: What I’ve Learned on Both Sides

I thought I understood what my mom-friends were going through. I showed up at their baby showers, checked in when I could, and tried to get them outside for a kid-free night. I thought that was enough. But the truth? I didn’t really get it. Not until I was staring at my own positive pregnancy test.

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The Friend Role

When you’re the friend without kids, it’s easy to believe you’re being supportive — and in many ways, you are. You listen, you bring snacks, you offer to help. But looking back, I realize how surface-level my understanding was.

I could sympathize with their exhaustion, but I couldn’t truly feel it. I couldn’t imagine what it meant for your entire identity to shift overnight — for your body to change into something both beautiful and overwhelming.

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The Reality Check

Becoming a mom cracked that perspective wide open. Pregnancy wasn’t just about having a baby; it was about my body feeling unfamiliar, my emotions running wild, and my sense of self stretching in ways I never expected.

I remember crying because I forgot bread at the store. That’s literally why I went; another time while working from home, I sobbed for no reason at my desk. That was pregnancy. The hormonal waves, the aches, the quiet panic about whether I’d be a good mom.

Even confirming I was pregnant felt surreal, like I was looking at someone else’s life. Thirty doesn’t feel old or young — it feels like a strange sweet spot, yet I still sometimes feel like a teenager making adult decisions. Motherhood made that feeling weigh a bit more.

And once my daughter arrived, the exhaustion wasn’t just tiredness — it was a deep fog. Every decision suddenly carried the weight of her future. And through it all, I still try to remember the “me” I used to be.

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Bridging the Gap

That’s when it hit me: moms aren’t pulling away because they don’t care. Our capacity changes. It’s not rejection; it’s survival. When you’re running on two hours of sleep, healing from a C-section, and caring for a newborn, some things just have to take a backseat.

To my friends without kids: I get how confusing that can feel. You might wonder why she cancels last-minute or why her texts are shorter. Please know — it’s not about you. She’s just trying to balance who she was with who she’s becoming.

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An Invitation to Empathy

So if you’re the friend on the outside looking in, here’s my advice: offer grace. Don’t assume distance means disinterest. Sometimes the best way to support a mom-friend isn’t by pushing her to show up, but by standing with her while she figures out this new version of herself sometimes.

Motherhood has taught me that love shifts with every stage of life. And sometimes, the greatest gift you can give a friend isn’t constant presence — it’s empathy. Even if you can’t fully understand the weight she’s carrying, know that she’s doing her best to carry both her baby and herself forward.