It’s not about you or me.
If you’re my friend, I embrace every aspect of who you are—your quirks, your messiness, and your struggles. I welcome your partner and your children into our friendship as well. While our kids may not always be best friends, I genuinely wish for their happiness and success. I’m all ears when you need to vent about the challenges of motherhood, but my protective instincts kick in if you start criticizing my child.
If we’re on the same sports team, I want to celebrate your child’s achievements wholeheartedly. If my child has a rough day, it’s not a reflection of you, me, or your kid; it’s simply about my child’s experience. My sadness for my child doesn’t diminish my joy for yours.
Reflecting back, I remember the time my husband and I were trying to conceive. After numerous tests, we learned we had “undiagnosed infertility,” a frustrating and ambiguous label. We turned to treatments like insemination and Clomid, and it was an emotional rollercoaster filled with hope and disappointment. Then came the call: a friend of mine, newly married and not even trying for children, announced her pregnancy.
I had two paths before me: focus on my own feelings, or celebrate her joy. I chose the latter, putting on a brave face to share in her excitement. After we hung up, the tears flowed. I was genuinely happy for her, but I couldn’t help but feel sadness for our own situation. I’ve never disclosed those feelings to her, because that moment was about her life-changing news, not mine. Fortunately, six months later, our dream came true.
As my babies grew into toddlers, I noticed how a certain friend often boasted about her kids’ accomplishments, frequently comparing them to mine. At first, I didn’t mind; I thought it was her way of connecting as a fellow mom. But as time passed, it became clear that this friend—and others—were not truly happy for my children’s successes. They would often highlight their kids’ achievements while downplaying mine, even when our kids were far removed from each other.
For instance, our boys play baseball together. They don’t compete for the same position, yet when my child gets a hit, I remain silent if theirs strikes out. If you say, “Oh, the sun must’ve been in Timmy’s eyes,” I just stay quiet, hoping for better luck next time. I cheer for your child’s success, but I don’t feel the need to gloat about my own kids’ missteps.
It confounds me. If my child faces a setback, it seems to become fodder for their conversations. “Sally did a perfect flip in gymnastics; too bad Annie can’t compete with her broken arm.” Is it really a bummer, or are they just trying to show off?
It can be hard to tell. True friends will demonstrate their support in ways that leave no room for doubt. They understand that our friendship—and our children’s friendship—exists regardless of achievements or failures. I might feel sad for my child missing out, but that won’t affect my happiness for your kid. I want all our children to grow up to be kind, successful individuals.
Let’s not complicate things. My child isn’t in competition with yours; you are.
If you’re interested in exploring more about home insemination, check out our detailed posts on at-home insemination kits, like this one here: At-Home Insemination Kit. For more in-depth information about pregnancy and insemination, you can refer to Johns Hopkins Medicine – Intrauterine Insemination.
Summary
This article discusses the complexities of friendship, particularly in the context of parenting. It emphasizes the importance of supporting each other’s children without jealousy or competition. True friendship is about celebrating each other’s successes while being there for one another during challenges.
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