8 Reasons Being The First Of Your Friends To Have Kids Sucks

8 Reasons Being The First Of Your Friends To Have Kids Sucks

There are times in life when being first is awesome — this was not one of those times. I had a baby, and while I absolutely love being a mom, being the first of my friends to have kids seriously sucks. Here’s why:

  1. I didn’t think things would change that much. And they didn’t – at least not right away. At first, I was a novelty, the one with the cute baby who got all of my girlfriends’ ovaries in a tizzy. They fought over who got to hold him and oohed and aahed and posted selfies saying “I want one” with tons of heart emojis. And that lasted until my adorable newborn turned into a real-life screaming, pooping, messy baby. *Bonus points since he had colic.
  2. No spontaneous girls’ nights or road trips. As a new mom, I needed at least a month to plan for that because I had to pump enough milk, secure a sitter and make sure I had enough leave time available at work since I used most of it for maternity leave. Or maybe (and I could never have admitted this to my non-parent friends) I just didn’t want to be away from my kid.
  3. Suddenly my friends’ houses were off limits. My child could (and still can) find something to break, stain, scratch or otherwise ruin within moments of arrival. My friends still had nice things: couches from Pottery Barn and nice dishes. They didn’t drink out of plastic and buy furniture from Big Lots. My child sensed the expensive items like a heat-seeking missile and I spent the whole time worried what he’d destroy next.
  4. I stopped getting invited to parties, happy hours and other adults-only gatherings. It’s not that my friends didn’t want me there, it’s just that I had to turn them down so many times before that they stopped asking. That’s alright – I was too tired to go out anyway.
  5. My friends got new friends. No, this isn’t high school and no, they’re weren’t trying to be jerks. I wasn’t replaced permanently, but someone had to fill the social void I left — maybe it was a shopping partner (to somewhere other than Target) or someone who could catch a late movie. Yes, it stung a bit to feel “replaced” by my BFFs, but my priorities had changed and my Friday night looked a lot different after motherhood.
  6. I didn’t have anyone to ask for help. Sure, my friends would do anything I asked, but they knew jack sh*t about kids (which was only slightly less than I knew) and I didn’t want to seem needy. Besides, they were probably out living glamorous, child-free lives and having great sex and hangovers they could nurse as long as they needed to on a Sunday. Hell, that was me not too long ago.
  7. I was tired. All.The.Time. Even if by some miracle I had a babysitter, and gave them 13 emergency numbers and four pages of notes about food preferences and bowel movements, I still wouldn’t make it past 10 p.m. Dinner and then drinks became dinner with (a) drink. When given a choice between sleep and anything else, I would choose sleep.
  8. I had a tiny human. I mean, I was basically a superhero. Oh wait – that didn’t suck after all. My friends marveled at my ability to nurse a baby and drink a glass of cab or to hold a conversation and catch my kid about to pee in the houseplant (true story, BTW). I was getting pretty damn good at this business of being a mom, and soon my pregnant or new mom friends were asking me for advice, and how I kept it all together. I remember how I felt being scared, tired and in uncharted territory — I totally didn’t have it together. So one night I canceled my movie plans, brought my friend a bottle of wine and some earplugs and offered to watch the baby while she napped. I understood — I was there first.
Amber Brentwood is a freelance writer, major overthinker, and overall hot mess who spends her days in corporate America, and her nights in the trenches of motherhood. When she's not rescuing animals and trying not to raise serial killers, she can be found with a good book and wine. Lots of wine.