Life Lines

I’ve never been one for strong female friendships. Since I was a small kid, I always had a lot of friends but really only one or two close girlfriends I could count on. And this tendency has followed me into adulthood. I like spending time with just little ol’ me (and now the wee peanut) and have been burned by gal pals a few too many times to readily dive into female friendships. And at the end of the day, I always prefer to spend time with the Papa over anyone else on this lovely planet. So I’m open but cautious as a friend, patiently taking my time getting to know other women and find a balance between opening and protecting my heart.

But things have shifted a bit now that I’m a mama. While I still only have a small handful of female friends, I find those bonds and connections invaluable now that I’m navigating motherhood and, frankly, just life in general as a thirty-something. This small group of women have become my support system, my sounding board and my reality check. They are, in short, my lifelines. And oh how I am thankful for this new phase of life.

There’s Alex, of course, my dearest and oldest friend. Alex has stood by me through bad bangs and addiction as well as every joyous milestone in my life since seventh grade. And I can’t imagine going through this mama gig without her. There ain’t nothing like the shorthand of emotional reality checks an old friend provides. One word or a subtle reference to the past, and we have each other pegged and realigned. ‘Cause there’s no fooling an old friend. And hallelujah for that.

And then there’s Lena – dear Lena – my daily reminder that I’m not alone in this crazy ride. We keep each other sane when sanity seems beyond distant. She’s the one I call when I need someone to tell me I’m not a bad mom. And she’s the one who reassures me I’m not alone when I have days when I’m shamefully not bewitched by my peanut who I normally find so bewitching. We take turns feeling vulnerable and fried, buoying up the other so that at least one of us is afloat at any given moment and helping one another laugh through the bliss and the crud. And I literally have days when I live for that little dose of laughter.

Oh, and Kami. Kami kills me. She kills me because she’s a lot like me. And sometimes we all need a mirror to see how funny and smart and right-on we really are. Here’s an example: Kami called me frantically at seven months pregnant and hysterically left the following message: “Oh my god, Katherine, I just ate a hot dog. Oh my god. Do you think I’ve hurt the baby? I think I’ve hurt the baby. What do you think? Call me back.” Yup, this is a mama who shares my level of panic about putting sunscreen on Stella or eating a stinkin’ hot dog. She’s honest and genuine and one of the most loyal friends I’ve ever had in my life.

Goodness. I haven’t even touched upon the inspiration and comfort I glean from family members. Of course, if I start writing about my own mom or my sister, I’ll most like degenerate into a teary mess of sappy nostalgia. And I think I’ll save that for later. I also have countless neighbors and friends with older children who serve as beacons for the future, providing glimpses of the fun (and not-so-fun) to come and modeling some pretty spectacular parenting overall. But really, looking at this “list” of dear friends – women who tell me the truth as they see it and do so with a compassionate humor Mother Theresa would whole-heartedly endorse – makes me feel utterly overwhelmed with gratitude.

And what's funny is that we don't all necessarily agree on all things mama. But I sort of like that. The fact that we share the core parenting values of nurturing love but sometimes approach or manifest those values from different angles means we negate the opportunity for competition or judgment. And since I think we all hold ridiculously unattainable standards for ourselves as it is, I'm thankful that my ladies stand by with a healthy dose of judgement-free compassion.

Mostly, I’m simply grateful for the opportunity to finally reach the stage in my life where I feel comfortable and safe enough to share my strengths and weaknesses with these fabulous mamas and to know that I, in turn, also offer them comfort and solace as well. I revel in how strong and capable we all are, even in our most broken-down mama moments, and this brings me immense relief. For in the reflection these friendships provide, I see that I will, in fact, be able to show Stella the powerful connection between women in this life. And that means so much to my previously burned heart. So thank you, friends, for being sound and hilarious women who help me let go of the shrew cattiness and immobilizing insecurity of the past and gently and lovingly nudge me toward my better self as a friend, as a mama, as a wife and as a woman.