When close female friends have kids

A woman I know who is a mother linked to this article on Facebook. It's about a recent scientific study talking about how women's brains literally change after they have kids in a way that makes them want to focus entirely on their children. And it prompted me to make this post here (in order to say the things I wanted to say to her in response, but didn't dare).

In the childfree groups I've been a part of in the past, there have always been a lot of discussions about how annoying it is to face other people's expectations that one will have kids, or about dealing with actually annoying kids. To be honest, though, I've actually got both of those things down pretty well. I mean, sure, when I was younger, people used to have those expectations of me, and I've dealt with my share of annoying kids, but I cope just fine with these things. The thing I've always had the most trouble with as a childfree person has been the loss of all of my close female friendships at the point where the other person starts having children. I really don't so much mind being occasionally asked why I don't have kids or dealing with the occasional annoying child, but have quite literally shed months worth of tears over relationships I've lost when women who were once close friends have had kids and subsequently stopped making an effort to have a two-sided friendship with me.

To this day, every close female friendship I've had where the friend started having kids while we were friends has passed through four stages.

Stage A: Pregnancy. My friend tells me about her joys and woes, and I share in them as best I can. Which, as always surprises me a bit, is actually pretty darn well! This usually consists of geeking and learning new things, which is fun for both of us, and I often become someone that my friend chooses to turn to in order to share that stuff. I get nervous that my friend will dump me, but it doesn't happen. In fact, my friend seems to go out of her way to include me in things because she knows I'm concerned about our future.

Stage B: Immediate-post-birth-time. My friend shares her feelings about being a new parent, and what her life is like now. While that life inevitably sounds utterly horrifying to me, I still surprise myself in not only being able to share her joys and woes, but in actually enjoying it. She also makes time to continue in the things we used to share, which reassures me that she's still the same person. I do worry that the child will take up all my friend's time, but she always finds time to devote to our friendship anyway, and I start to think that maybe this time will be different.

Stage C: The toddler years. The topics of conversation shift, noticably--i.e., they stop being about her own joys and woes and start being about the joys and woes of the child. I hear very little about how she feels anymore, even with respect to things that have to do with the child. There's also a palpably smaller amount of time she's willing to spend on things that don't focus on her child or other people's children, and this includes not only things that are going on in my life that don't involve her at all, but also the various things we used to have in common. In part because of all of the hope I'd built up from stages A and B, I start to resent even the things about her child that we used to enjoy sharing, and stop wanting to hear about any of it at all. The friendship grows strained.

Stage D: The second child. My friend is simultaneously caught in the toddler years and the immediate-post-birth-time. This means that the problems I encounter with both stages are magnified tremendously, and all of the positives of them are gone. The friendship either ends, or if there's some outside pressure forcing us together (such as work, or a regular gathering that we both attend), it continues, but focuses entirely on whatever that outside pressure is.

To this day, there has not been a single exception to this pattern. And it's so bad that I've actually reached the point where I've had it with trying to have close relationships with any women who either have or want to have young kids. When I'm getting to know someone, and they tell me that someday they want to have kids (or even that they're thinking about it), from that point forward there is a line of intimacy that they will never be able to cross with me. It's awful because I know I'm missing out on some great friendships as a result, but I feel like it's necessary for my own self-protection. And it hurts. It hurts so fucking much.