Remy #2
“Welcome, everyone,” he says. “You may have noticed the interesting seating plan as you walked in. The hosts wanted to do a bit of an exercise first because I think we can all agree that nowadays there seems to be so much unwarranted animosity between those who do want children and those who do not. So, we’re going to have an open discussion tonight.
Those of you who have or know that you do want children please sit on the right, those who don’t on the left, and those who are undecided, right in the middle. ”
Ironically, I’m already sitting in the middle, but Simone confidently gets up from her seat. “Where are you going?” I ask.
“To sit on the left side,” Simone says. “Although, I might have a word with that bookseller first; he hasn’t accounted for those who cannot have children.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Simone frowns then rubs her forehead smooth. “At this rate, I will need Botox, and I should bill you for it. Why do you want to sit with me? You are the definition of undecided.”
“They don’t know that—and I don’t want to sit on my own!”
“Single motherhood will prove especially difficult for you, Remy,” she says. “That’s worth considering. Come with me then.”
We take our seats on the left in the second row just before Grace says, “Now that we’re all seated, you are free to bring up anything on your mind, but the rules are as follows: to listen when someone is speaking, to wait your turn, and above all, to be respectful. There is no right or wrong side.”
“There is for the planet!”
We all turn to look at a lady sitting behind us with blue hair and a deep-set scowl. Some anxious laughs float around the room and it’s dawning on me that this may not be the diplomatic evening the hosts have in mind.
“Okay,” Gabrielle says, ignoring the blue-haired lady. “Let’s talk! Who’d like to start?”
A woman on the right side in a purple patterned dress and white sandals stands up.
“Hello,” she says nervously. “I’m Katie and a mother of two and I loved your book, Gabrielle,” she says.
“It was gifted to me, quite… maybe, passive-aggressively, you could say, by a friend of mine. You see, a few weeks back, I made a little faux pas of asking when she planned to have children rather than if . I think my question is more directed toward Grace since she’s also a mother, but how have the two of you remained such good friends, best friends even, with such differing lifestyles? ”
“Great first question,” Grace says while Purple Dress takes her seat.
“To be honest, Gabby is just as busy as I am, but we always make time for each other. However, in your case it seems there’s an uncomfortable conversation that needs to be had.
Unfortunately, you’ll find having children nowadays ultimately results in a weeding process.
The friends in your life fell in love with a specific version of you, so when that version changes, your friendship can, as well.
Some people just don’t want to be around children in their free time and that’s their right, but then there will be friends who see your children as an extension of you and therefore will do whatever it… ”
Thinking of Melissa, I miss what Grace says next.
I’ll never know if it was motherhood that changed our friendship because relocation got there first. Arguably, I fell in love with pre-Hertfordshire Melissa.
I fell in love with teenage Melissa, and she’s changed so much since then.
But the reasons I fell in love with her—her selflessness, her protectiveness, her wise benevolence—haven’t changed a bit.
I’m just not geographically close enough to actively benefit from them.
So, if a person is not able to display the qualities that initially granted them friendship status, what does that mean for said friendship?
What do I now offer Melissa when I’m no longer near enough to run over when she needs me?
Can I rely on past behavior, text check-ins, and gifts through the post to keep my place in her life?
Do friendships end when someone stops being of worth ?
Or maybe it’s comparable to romantic relationships, where after years together, it’s less about trying to replicate what you once had and more about growing alongside each other, and allowing the other person to change.
Maybe the answer lies in figuring out how we maintain what we have with distance and new priorities between us?
A woman who introduces herself as Sydney is called on next. “I have a situation that I’d really appreciate some advice on,” Sydney says. “I don’t plan to have children, but my sister is pregnant with her first and I cannot wait to be an aunt.”
We can all tell Sydney means it when she presses both hands to her chest.
“My sister and I are as thick as thieves,” she continues.
“We’re literally best friends. We’ve always been there for each other, for all the major milestones and for the tough times as well.
However, I just got an offer for my dream job, and it’s in another country.
If I accept it, I won’t get time off to be there when my nephew is born.
I know we’re in a golden age of globally scattered families and FaceTime, but my sister and I are too close for that.
She wants me there when she’s giving birth, and I completely understand why.
But this is a job offer of a lifetime. So, I wondered what… ”
I miss the rest of what’s being said yet again because I notice Simone’s leg bouncing to a song no one else can hear.
She’s staring down at her lap, allowing her hair to form curtains around her face.
Then she rubs an eye with her knuckle and takes a deep breath.
When she lifts her head again, her jerky knee has been silenced, and her face is illegible.
When Simone notices me staring, she frowns until I look away.
“I hope that helps.” Gabrielle smiles. Sydney nods and takes her seat.
A woman in red stands next and says, “My name is Candice, and I also really admire your friendship, Grace and Gabrielle, but I envy it, too. I’m a new mother, and for me, it’s been an incredibly lonely experience.
That’s why I came here tonight, to see if anyone else is in the same boat.
I had a lot of friends, but they all kind of dispersed after I gave birth.
” Some people sitting on the left avoid eye contact while some sitting on the right nod knowingly.
“They were there in the beginning,” Candice continues, “when my son was small and cuddly, but eventually, they had their own lives to get back to and after me canceling too many times, they stopped seeing me as part of the group…”
Does Melissa ever feel this way?
I doubt she feels abandoned by me. We still message on the phone frequently, just not as much as before.
Only because I don’t want to bother her with the kind of inconsequential stuff I used to, like what new sandwich I was having for lunch when I spent a month trying to find the best sandwich in London, or even just a random memory that’s popped into my head and I felt like sharing.
Melissa’s a mum now; surely she doesn’t have time for those things.
But… is that my assumption and really Melissa wonders why she doesn’t hear from me as much?
Or… maybe she hasn’t even noticed the drop in frequency.
How does a person like me (single, self-employed, with a severe amount of free time on her hands) strike a communicative balance that preserves Melissa my friend but respects Melissa the mum?
“I get that not everyone is a baby person,” Candice continues, “but it’s sad when you do a wonderful thing and people aren’t as interested in you anymore.”
When Candice takes her seat, a woman two seats away from her gets to her feet.
“Hi, I’m Patty,” she says. “I’m a mum of two and I just want to tell Candice I know where she’s coming from.
I used to be in a tight friendship quartet, two of us with kids and two of us without.
We suddenly ended up divided without exactly realizing when or how it happened.
After I reached out to my child-free friends to figure out why, they said something I found insightful.
I personally don’t think there’s any chosen milestone that requires congratulations; hopefully your friends want to congratulate you.
The reason my friendship group fell apart is because one of our friends, the fellow mum, only wanted to talk about being a mum; unintentionally, I think, she put that achievement above everyone else’s in a way that came off as selfish.
One friend bought their first house after spending her childhood in foster care; the other got her hard-earned PhD, and both of them felt they didn’t get the same level of fanfare that they’d bestowed upon our pregnancies. ”
“Interesting,” Simone whispers.
“I think the tension between both ‘sides’ came from a lack of reciprocity,” Patty continues.
“The friend who got her PhD said to me, and I’m paraphrasing, of course, ‘If being a mother is your goal and you achieve it, you deserve celebration, but goals aren’t hierarchal.
My goal was to get a PhD and I achieved it but what did I get?
A text message.’” Patty pauses to chew the inside of her bottom lip.
“I felt really bad about that one because she’s right.
It shouldn’t be about what you’ve done but about how much what you’ve done means to you, about celebrating each other without it being a competition. ”
This gets a resounding round of applause from everyone in the room, including me and Simone.
“Excellently said, Patty,” Grace says.
“You know,” Gabrielle adds, turning to Grace, “I have noticed that every time I hit a career milestone, you send me flowers and those expensive chocolates I love.”
“Because I know how hard you work!” Grace says. “You’re achieving things no one else I know is, and not to mention, you’re one of the only people who never forgets my daughter’s birthday.”
Gabrielle and Grace smile adoringly at one another before Gabrielle turns back to the room to say, “This is going really well, everyone.”
However, all good things must come to an end because then another person stands up. “My name’s Lily,” she says quickly, “and while I do appreciate what everyone has said, I do think there needs to be some leniency toward the mums in the group.”
My back stiffens, not because of what she’s saying but the tone in which she’s saying it.
It’s reminiscent of when someone would accidentally bump into Nova and Nova would loudly say, “ Oh , she can’t say excuse me, now?
” It sounds innocent enough, but everyone in the vicinity knows, it’s only a matter of time…
“Being a mother isn’t just an achievement,” Lily continues, addressing the room.
“It’s so much more than that. I know there are cons that are so easy to list—these days people will complain about anything that requires effort—but having children is an indescribable time in a woman’s life.
The fact that you made a human who wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for your power and strength is bewildering, and it changes everything; you realize how strong, patient, capable of love, and superhuman you are. ”
Okay, that wasn’t as bad as I expected. Simone looks at me and smiles in a way that softens her jaw and lifts her cheeks. “Superhuman,” she whispers, pointing to my stomach, “I quite agree.”
I smile in return, and it would have been a beautiful moment if Lily hadn’t then gone on to say, “Being a mother is an evolved way of being.”
A few people clear their throats and shuffle in their seats. Unaware of the shift, Lily (God help us) continues, “It’s like, how we all started off as gorillas but evolved into more complex and emotional beings.”
There is a moment of silence before the uproar begins.
“Excuse me?”
“What did you say?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“So, what, child-free women are gorillas compared to mothers who are… human?”
The questions are coming from all three sides of the crowd, and the hosts look lost for words.
“No,” Lily says, shaking her head and hands. “No, no, of course not, that’s not what I—”
“I’m actually not that offended,” someone shouts from the middle row. “There’s this theory that gorillas are actually smarter than humans, they just play dumb so they don’t have to pay taxes and stuff.”
“You are saying nothing to support either side,” another woman shouts in response.
“Okay,” Grace finally says with a light laugh, “let’s all just settle down.”
But it’s far too late.
“I’m sorry, but what she said was incredibly offensive, especially to those of us who maybe want to be mothers but can’t, either biologically or financially.”
“Or maritally! My husband didn’t want children, and I thought I didn’t either, but I’m starting to change my mind and he hasn’t.”
“You should probably divorce him.”
“She should have been honest from the beginning!”
“She’s allowed to change her fucking mind!”
“Respectful language only, please!”
Mini arguments disguised as thoughtful debates break out and Grace tries and fails to bring order. Gabrielle on the other hand seems quite pleased with the growing carnage.
“This is slowly descending into anarchy,” I whisper to Simone.
“I know,” Simone replies happily. “Isn’t it fascinating?”
In case I misheard her over the noise, I say, “Isn’t it what?”
“Fascinating,” Simone repeats, looking around the room with a smile.
“Something that used to be so black and white mere decades ago— you are woman, you have babies —is now so much more complex, so multicolored. There isn’t just yes or no, there’s yes, no, maybe, how, could or should I, but, what if.
” Simone turns to me and says, “I’m genuinely having a wonderful time. ”
“If you’re lonely, just get a dog, for goodness’ sake!”
“Oh my God, dogs and babies are not the same! You are not a ‘dog-mum,’ you just own an animal!”
“So insightful,” Simone whispers to herself.