In this series Jill Spills, Kiss92’s Jill Lim bares her soul about the trials and tribulations of being a millennial mother.
No man is an island, unless you’re a mother. Being the only mother in my group of friends has been an unfortunately isolating experience at times. As such, I shan’t suffer in silence anymore, and be the bridge that brings together my DINKs (Dual Income, No Kids) and what our government likes to refer to as the “traditional family nucleus”.
“I can’t believe you’re a mum now.”
Trust me, two years in and another just weeks away, neither can I. However, I still am a person first, aren’t I? Here’s another thing “they” don’t tell you about motherhood: you may get phased out. Conversely, you might be phasing out friends too! Let’s address who “they” are first. Society.
We are made to believe motherhood is a calm meadow filled with lalang and daisies. Mothers are dressed in long white linen dresses that don’t wrinkle. All babies naturally latch on and come with flower crowns. It’s warm and inviting. Yes, there are flashes of those moments. In reality though, it’s more comparable to Jacob Ballas Children’s Garden. No child, no entry.
Where do your childless friends fit then?
“Oh right, you’re a mum now.”
To be fair, there are many paths to motherhood and many types of mothers. Some mothers expect the world to change for them. Accommodate my timings, my location, my child. In the newborn phase, I feel that’s really acceptable to ask of your friends, and as friends you should be happy to accommodate.
Think of it this way. When you enter a new job, you have a six-month probation period, where you’re expected to learn, make mistakes and be forgiven. After which, you better get your act together and know how to get real work done by then.
After your probation period, the mother should try to adjust back into society. I refused to be the mother who would always be late. I respect people’s time. However, what changed was the time I would meet my friends.
Previously, I’d be down to meet friends at 9pm and head out for drinks. After becoming a mother, the thought of surging taxi fares and fighting for taxis alone put me off. Not to mention, the early wake-up call I’d get from the baby. My new hobby was day drinking! A good brunch that would roll over to an early dinner perhaps.
Honestly, my friends didn’t really mind. Day drinking was a lot more friendly on the wallet, with lunch promos and happy hours.
Don’t take things personally
While I didn’t mind missing the occasional bedtime routine to go and get wrecked with my friends like the good old days, somehow they weren’t fully comprehending that this could no longer be a weekly occurrence. I started receiving the “oh ya, you’re a mum now hor”, “just come for a while”, and “ok la, you go take care of your baby we’ll see you some other time”. Soon, the invites dried out. Even the courteous “Missing Jill” tags in Instagram pictures vanished.
Resentment grew, feelings were hurt. Naturally, I tried to convince myself my life was better. Who wanted to spend so much money on alcohol? Pasta can only taste so good. I don’t need to go to another newly opened restaurant. Tanjong Beach Club will always be there, hot and overcrowded. I’m not missing anything. I actually have a family.
I started reaching out to my friends who were mothers. Shockingly, I couldn’t click with them either. Everyone’s motherhood journey is so vastly different. I really had to sit down and reflect. What kind of mother was I? What were my values? What did I really want to prioritise? It took me a while, but slowly I found my “mum tribe” made up of mothers with children and friends who just got it. I cannot stress how important it is to find your people. It makes a world of difference.
What we all can do to help bridge the gap
Believe me, your friend who is now a mum, hasn’t changed. She still wants to hang out, she still wants to be included, and she doesn’t need you to ask about the baby if you don’t really care. Here are things that she’d love from you.
Maybe pass on the dining experiences that have a strict two-hour window, or give the plays a miss for now. How about an open-ended, inviting brunch? Or if a full-day music festival in the park where you can go whenever? Beaches and anywhere that’s fully outdoors might not be the best pick, especially if the baby is under one year old. Shade, fans, and nice empty toilets are all great to have.
Remember, babies are unpredictable and unreliable. Your friend isn’t. As hard as I tried to get my baby on a schedule, it would work only till her next developmental leap. Then, it was trial and error again. Making plans was difficult and I became flakey, because my baby who usually napped from 11am to 12pm had dropped that nap and started napping from 2pm to 4pm. If your mum friend makes it and cuts the date abruptly because the baby is fussing, just roll with the punches.
This is a touchy one. I don’t know about most people, but we were struggling at the beginning. My daughter was allergic to most formula milk. The one that agreed with her cost about $55 for a 400g tin. Coupled with all the paediatric appointments, taxis and vaccinations, money was gone in a blink. All the childcare costs added up. I just couldn’t afford paying $22 for eggs and toast or $25 for cocktails and the worst of $40 cab rides.
I’m not suggesting your new mum friend needs a handout. However, you’d want to consider a good chill-out session at someone’s home with ordered-in food. Or if you drive, pick her up or send her back. Even if she lives way out of the way, a ride – even one way – would mean a lot to her!
The baby phase is challenging for everyone, but the good news is, it doesn’t last forever and it gets better. Trust me, your friendship is worth the extra effort and understanding!