California born, Nashville living, lots of babies, lots of lifestyle. Hang around and let's be friends!



image by Karly Murphy

image by Karly Murphy

I just got off the phone with a friend. The conversation was everything wise that it could be. Evident. And tangible. We talked marriage, love, the ending of the baby chapter in sight and how arduous we are when it comes to wanting something badly and how to execute it. This phone call was my favorite.

If you don’t already know, we talk about the mother tribe here often, as if it were ritual. It’s our daily mantra. It’s the air we breathe. The medicine that heals. The female relationship whether one of us has kids and the other does not, it’s real. And palpable.

Cue to 7 years ago. I was a new mother, wandering down this rocky yet compelling motherhood road with no real idea how to navigate the ever changing lanes of being a mother.

My friends threw me the baby shower, encouraged my every move, bought me a baby rocker for the nursery and off I went.

Those changing lanes suddenly became very prevalent and particularly blurry. And I was alone.

Not that my friends weren’t there every step of the way, but life changed. And so did the friendships. I became busy trying to figure out breastfeeding and how to stay awake at 2 am while changing poopy diapers, and they carried on with their busy lives. If I’m honest, at moments I was a tiny bit jealous. Ok, maybe a lot. Craving my previous normal life of freedom, I couldn’t just meet the girls for happy hour anymore. I had a car seat with an infant and burgeoning boobies ready to explode at any minute. It wasn’t exactly the same dynamic for them. And that was ok. But also a little sad on my heart.

Accepting that my former life and squad of friends was rapidly changing, I did as any mother would do and I took a walk into a store (H.Audrey Nashville to be exact) looking for retail therapy.

Enter pregnant beautiful new mom friend. She walked up to me and my infant daughter and introduced her ethereal self. Said our husbands knew each other and we had mutual friends. She looked at my baby girl so fondly, and I could tell she was excitingly eager to give birth to her first baby. We exchanged numbers and smiles and went on with our day.

Today, 6 1/2 years later, we have 6 babies between the 2 of us. And my first mom friend and I have an extension of mom friends that we honestly can’t keep away from. From the early days at Whole Foods breastfeeding our babies over lattes, to mama pool hangs with the babies outnumbering us, and limo rides to Arrington vineyards sans kids and drunk as we could be, it’s safe to say these friendships are here to stay.

But what about the original squad? What happens once we make new mom friends? Do the old ones disappear never to be found?

Yes and no.

The good, the bad and the sad of the ever changing friendships in life in general is part of the heart wars we have with ourselves and perhaps each other. We miss our old friends. Our old friends become closer to each other and you lose touch. And that can feel lonely and sad. But here’s the good news.

If they were your friends to begin with, then they’re here to stay.

My phone call this evening that I spoke of earlier is with my very first friend in Nashville. 12 years later, 3 babies, a stepson and a husband later and the conversation is still the same.

She didn’t run off into the wildflower fields searching for my replacement.

She went and did her life. And checked in on me often.

And embraced my new friendships. And encouraged that growth.

Gave me wings to fly and space to create more room for more love in my life.

That’s true friendship.

And so I have the momsquad. And we group text about everything from handmaids tale to private school pressures. We text about potty training and our daughter’s losing their first teeth. And when we can have a girls brunch on a school day. And how much wine a night is too much?

And then I’ll hop over to another group text where a bestie sends a meme that quite naturally has me spitting out my morning bullet coffee. And one friend who doesn’t have children insists on a play date with my children because she loves them…. just as a Great Auntie would.

You see, when friendships change in motherhood, there’s the good, the bad and the sad. But overall, it’s friendships (plural), and aren’t we just so damn lucky?

Time to plan a #GNO, because friendships, are everything. And I love you all. K, bye.



MOTHERHOOD, THE RABBIT HOLE: how we fall and how we rise again

MOTHERHOOD, THE RABBIT HOLE: how we fall and how we rise again