The One With No Kids

We did not have kids. It's what happened, not necessarily what we wanted.

Bitter? No.

Jealous? No.

Regretful? Yes.

Do I dwell on it? No.

How do you navigate the first five years when your friends have kids and you have none?

Start here: it's not about you.

Your friends are living the best way they know how with a new reality that was hoped for, planned for, unplanned for, and now simply is. A new life has arrived, and with it, a completely new life for them.

Some friends adjust quickly, three to six months and they seem to find a rhythm.

Others never quite do.

The ones with help tend to preserve a small piece of their former selves. Ten percent, maybe. Different, but still recognizable.

I found it best during those first five years (1,825 days), to go explore.

New cities.

Creative pursuits.

Travel.

Long walks.

New projects.

Whatever reminded me that my life was still unfolding too.

Do not feel obligated to participate.

It's completely okay if you want to. But I am here to share that any guilt, resentment, or feeling of being left behind is mostly misplaced. There is not much you can actually do.

The kid is growing.

And just as importantly, your friends are growing into parents.

The college years, the twenties, the thirties of reckless weekends and spontaneity are gone.

Trying to recreate them during the first five years of a child's life?

Good luck.

Most parents would consider sleeping past 8:00 a.m. the wildest adventure available to them.

And if they do manage to get away for an evening, many spend half the time checking their phones, FaceTiming home, or worrying about what awaits them when they return.

Babysitting?

I wouldn't attempt it until second grade.

Maybe fourth.

So where does that leave you?

Free.

Free to travel.

Free to create.

Free to disappear for a weekend.

Free to reinvent yourself.

Free to become the most interesting version of yourself while your friends become the people they need to become.

And then one day, somewhere around Little League, middle school, or high school, they start to emerge again.

A little older.

A little tired.

A little wiser.

And you'll have stories too.

-MM

***written on flight to NYC, Saturday morning.