'It's OK to grieve a friendship that's changed...'

Part two of my conversation with Ruby Warrington discussing the different phases of life we all go through...

Old photos of my dearest friends, from my photo albums

What makes a friendship? What makes them last? I used to think it was shared interest, shared activities. Those nights splitting a bottle of wine and exclaiming “oh my god, me too!” or handing over hard-won wisdom as our friend sobs, you know the “babe, I’ve been there…” conversations. And, of course, these often are the things that forge us. Wherever we’re thrown we will seek out those in a similar position. We’ll look for the people that suit our lives in that moment: the party friend, the work pal…

Short-term friendships can be wonderful. But, when it comes turning those short friendship flings into the long-haul, surface similarity won’t get us very far. Friendship isn’t a game of snap. Solid friendships involve going through different experiences, at different times. It’s watching the people you love make decisions that you would never make. Dating people that you would never date. It’s offering our perspectives on their lives knowing that we will never truly know what it’s like to inhabit their body, their brain. And loving them, always.

Rationally, I know this. And yet, there’s always that slice of fear that cuts through me when a friend announces that they’re about to start a family. I’m always so happy, of course I’m happy. But I’m also scared. Scared that they won’t need me any more, that we will drift apart. I wrote in a poem once: “what if the gap of understanding widens so much that we tumble into it.” I can’t help my friends with advice on, I dunno, nappy rash remedies. I can’t even think of an example to place in this sentence! What use am I?! For a long time, back when I thought I wanted to be a mother, my main driving factor behind that want was so that I wasn’t left behind.

Now, a lot of my friends are settled, beautifully, into motherhood. I’m wiggling my own way into a life that’s comfortable for me. I’m a lot less scared. The core of who we are remains, even if the outside changes, multiple times over the years (I’m going to change too, this is true for all friendships, not just those where one becomes a parent and the other doesn’t.)

But it is something I wanted to talk to Ruby Warrington about, for part two of my conversation with her about her amazing book Women Without Kids. (if you haven’t read part one, here’s what we talked about.)

I used to be so afraid of losing friendships when my friends became mothers. Did you ever feel this way?

I moved to America when I was 35 which was around the time my friends were becoming mothers. We stayed in touch [but] with the idea that we were all moving in different directions. I also moved to New York which is a place that attracts people on very independent paths so I didn’t really meet many people with children.

[But] when a dear friend tells me she’s pregnant, I am so overjoyed but then a part of me is grieving our friendship. It’s more grieving that phase of our friendship as, of course, it doesn’t mean the end of our friendship but more that we both need to make the effort to maintain that connection. Which is the same with a lot of friendships and life changes but because of this ‘mummy binary’ it can feel like our lives [of child-free and those who are parents] are too different.

[NOTE FROM CATRIONA: the mummy binary is part of the book that spoke to me the most. Ruby is saying that, up until recently, we have been living in a world where motherhood is a binary: the whole “women are born to be mothers” thing (which has been spouted to me many times in the old man pubs I frequent) Instead, she argues (and I totally agree) that it’s a spectrum with knowing for sure you want to be a mother one end, and knowing for sure you don’t the other. So many of us lie in between and the factors that place us there can also alter throughout our lifetimes. She writes: “any person’s desires and aptitude for parenthood will be influenced by a multitude of factors - everything from our basic personality, to our family and cultural background, to our desires and ambitions for our life, to our finances, to our physical and mental health, to our relationship status.”]

I loved that part of your book, particularly discussing what those of us who remain child-free could discuss and highlight to help the mothers in our lives. I have said before I don’t believe it’s an us vs them situation, that everyone makes decisions that are unique to them…

It’s a false binary and we are all just human beings trying to make choices that support us, and the more we can support each other in this the better.

One of my best friends from school and I got married at similar times. Straight away she said to me that they were going to start trying, and was shocked when I explained that [my husband and I] wouldn’t be. It was such a given for her she’d assumed it would be for me too. I had lunch with her recently and she was saying that [my writing] had shone a light on how much she struggled as a mum. She really wanted children but had been reminded how much parenthood has taken over her life. It validated that it’s OK for her to feel that way.

That’s something we could make a lot of societal shifts [on], so that more women can really enjoy being mothers. One of them would be let’s stop pushing women to be perfect. So many mums talk about the extreme pressure to tick every box. Just how prevalent this happy perfect family life [is pushed] and that resulting in them feeling like failures.

Acceptance, is the key, which links back to grief. I also haven’t heard people express this but the grieving of the person you were before you had your kids is a huge, under discussed thing, that, I believe, a lot of women could benefit from having the space to acknowledge. 

We’re always going through different phases all the time…

There’s a really popular self help book from the 80s called Passages, that discusses all the different life stages that we go through, these rites of passages. It was the part on menopause that really [had me reflecting on] this subject. She writes about it so well. In the past 120 years we’ve almost doubled our life expectancy. We used to die at 49 [typically we go into menopause between 45 and 55] so it used to be for women that after your child-rearing that was it. The fact that women can have a life beyond motherhood is a relatively new thing. We don’t see the second half of life in that way but really it’s a new beginning. 

Out of all your research, what surprised you? 

I had never fully joined the dots between my lack of desire to not have children with the fact that I have never been part of a family that I wanted to replicate. I began to really acknowledge that people who want kids have had a different experience with their family that they naturally want to carry on. I had to recognise that my brother had that and I hadn’t and driving deeply into that on a personal level was incredibly painful. [Particularly] having those conversations with my mother, they were so challenging but so important.

I’m starting now to have a relationship with my mother at 47 that’s the kind of relationship I thought I’d have when I was younger. I wonder would I feel differently [had I had it then]? Honestly I don’t think so. I have always been fascinated by ideas and the life of the mind, family life just isn’t my thing.

I really loved considering my own past and your discussion of what our mothers and their mothers didn’t have and fought for. We are the generation that finally gets to make our own choice, see what sacrifices they made. In my family my grandma was incredibly traditional, taped in her wedding book is a letter from Boots where she worked saying that as she was now married she would no longer work for them. It’s so interesting to me that her choice was automatically taken away from her. Then my mum was a real rebel, she ran away from home at 16 and became a feminist writer. I loved considering my own role in our family lineage and what I’ll create and carry on, even if I don’t have children.

[For your grandma] the option wasn’t even there. We see it as all her opportunity gone, but she maybe saw it ‘I’ve been picked, I’ve been validated as a woman.’ I don’t have a relationship with my grandma, so I don’t know if she’d see it this way but I see [my lifestyle] as being able to live this life on her behalf. This is what feminism fought for! It’s a joyful, joyful thing yet is still seen as so controversial. 

One thing I did learn from doing the interviews and the online survey, was when I began to wonder to what extent the difficult relationships they had with their mothers [had impacted their decision to be child-free], the vast majority of people acknowledged that it had. I don’t think it’s discussed much as it feels almost traitor-ish. It’s not a critique, [in my case] it’s an acknowledgement of how it looked really hard to be a mum. We never did fun stuff with mum. It’s funny as she would say those were her most joyful years, she loves being a mum and making sure everyone is OK, but for me it looks like a nightmare! My decision not to have children has looked like rejecting a part of her, rejecting something she loves. But it’s not that.

We don’t have to empathise with every other person’s experience to be able to respect it. 

We all seem to cling, myself included, on this idea that we have to go through the same experiences as our friends…

A concept that could really do with dialled up is just respect: respect for difference, respect for others’ different needs. You don’t have to agree with it, or want it for yourself but it’s vital to have respect for the fact that we all have the right to self determine and make the choices that we make.

I also think that there might be wobbles within our choices, we can talk about them but that doesn’t mean we’re going to live with regret. I’m trying to do this more and speak out when there are moments I find hard in my life as ultimately, it’s human, those who do become parents might have moments where they, not so much regret but consider their decision and choices and wonder what if…

That nuance is important. My nephew is now at an age where we can have conversations and he’s so funny. He’s the most precious thing in my family. It just makes me think ‘wow he’s a whole human life, that’s so valuable… what treasure for my brother to have created this being.’ But that doesn’t mean I want to be a mother.

Thank you so much to Ruby for her wisdom and to you for reading! Please do let me know what you think and, if you can’t become a paid subscriber but would like to support my work just tell ALL your pals about me! Thank you!