Friends come and go, it's said, and it seems that both aspects to the equation are sped up when you are a new mother. At least that is how it has been for me, especially back in the exhausting first couple of years. To scroll back...one day I was a working mom-to-be with a circle of local friends that was just big enough. Movies, lunches, an occasional couples' night out was all taken for granted. Nothing changed very much from year to year; we all led busy lives with careers
to pursue and houses to maintain, but we still made time for regular get together with one another.

Next thing I knew I was catapulted into what felt like one of the nine circles of hell--bruised and exhausted from childbirth and early attempts at breast-feeding, alone all day in my suburban house with only my red-faced baby girl as a companion. Getting out the door seemed next to impossible, let alone being anywhere at a prescribed time. I found solace during this period in long phone calls with out-of-state friends who were also new moms (none of us could believe the predicament we were in) and in what were probably excessively chatty interactions with clerks at the grocery store. I was, in other words, very lonely, despite never being alone.

After a few months I went back to work part time and found a bit of breathing room there. Once again I could occasionally go out to lunch with friends, for example. In addition, things started to even out on the homefront. Katherine's face grew chubbier and less red, her sleeping patterns evened out, and I felt like I was regaining a bit of control over our schedule. But there were still many hours to fill in the days when I did not work, and no one nearby who was in my exact same straits. It seemed that all my area friends were either a year or so ahead of me on the mommy curve, and thus already busy with established playgroups and routines, or they were working full time and had their children in daycare.

To fill the hours, Katherine and I spent a lot of time taking long walks and one day, as we did yet another lap of the nearby playground, we struck gold, in the form of another mom, trudging along, pushing a stroller. "A fellow sufferer!" was my first thought, and while by nature a somewhat reserved person, I wasn't about to lose this opportunity, and so as I approached this other duo I called out a greeting and we stopped to chat for a few moments. Not only did we have babies of roughly the same age, but we learned that we also lived in the same subdivision. Thus, in the space of a few moments, was a connection established and a friendship born.

Well from that day on, Louise* and I met up regularly, babies in tow, and enjoyed many a long walk around the neighborhood as well as indoor play dates, dinners (if you can call pizza or sandwiches dinner!), and regular outings to the mall, to the pool, and to Kenmore Park. I had visions of our babies growing up together, best friends from the very start. "Yes," I would tell Katherine down the road, "you met Lily when you were both in diapers. I remember how you used to play in the wading pool in our back yard and chase the squirrels at Kenmore." I foresaw them climbing on the bus together, clutching their shiny lunch boxes, on the first day of school, and, later still, tying up the phone lines, much to Louise's and my future exasperation.

Of course I knew that this was all a daydream, and understood that their babyhood friendship might fade as they both grew up and found other playmates. Yet it was a new thing for me--to contemplate how my new friendship with Louise might pave the way for Katherine to establish a long-running friendship with Lily. Suddenly my relationships outside the family were not all about me...someone else was involved, in fact two "someone elses," Katherine and Lily, and this added a whole new dimension to my relationship with Louise, one that had not been present in my pre-motherhood friendships. It gave me a lot to think about, and added quite a bit of poignancy to the next development in this little saga.

Remember, friends come and go. We move on, move off, grow apart, grow away. It is to be expected, and as someone who moved frequently while growing up, I became accustomed, at an early age, to having to say goodbye. I've had my fair share of friendships break up, some of my own volition. So I should have been prepared, or at least unfazed when things seemed to change between Louise and me at some point after both girls turned two.

I cannot pinpoint any specific event or falling out, but gradually I noticed that in addition to seeming very "busy" all the time, Louise was not initiating any of the contacts between us. I maintained an effort for a good long while, partly because Katherine would barrage me with requests, "I want to play with Lily! When can we see Lily? Why can't we go to Lily's house? Can Lily come to our house?" and, occasionally, I did manage to arrange a get together. But, finally, Katherine's requests dwindled down and now it has been several months since she's said much of anything at all about Lily beyond a very rare request to drive by her house.

But, hey, you move on, right? And from my vast vantage point (ha!), four years into motherhood, I can see that many other friendships--both mine and Katherine's--will probably also fade as she grows. As she embarks upon her final year in preschool this fall, I am already waving a long and slow (mental) goodbye to some of the moms there that I've grown close to. Experience teaches me that once the kids move onto their separate elementary schools things will change yet again. While it is hard for me to say goodbye to friendships, it will no doubt be even harder to see my daughter having to learn to do this too.

Meanwhile, back to the present moment, I've long since filled the void that was temporarily left in our social calendar by the absence of Louise and Lily--with other friends, both new and old, and between those play dates and regular errands, preschool, library time, and trips to the YMCA, Katherine and I have busy, productive days. But I'll never forget Louise and Lily and how their companionship helped and enriched us both--me with navigating some of the difficult months of early parenting and Katherine with the joy of a first playmate.

*Names and some details have been changed to protect privacy

Mary Becelia is a free-lance writer, mother of two, and part-time employee at the University of Mary Washington.