To My NCT Friends,
I had to write.
I’m sitting in the park and on the table in front of me are a new NCT group. They’ve all met up with newborns and husbands and I’ve had to stop myself from going over and sitting with them. Joining in their conversation. Talking about my piles. And giving unsolicited advice. (Yup. I’m going to be THAT type of MIL. Shoot me now. Do it.)
They are talking about sleep. And slings. And saying stuff like, ‘Wow doesn’t your baby hold his head up well!’ They are so green. So precious. Do you remember that? When you actually gave a s*** about your buggy. And your kids. Ha ha. They’re joking about how long it took to get out of the house. TWO ADULTS AND ONE BABY. Are you kidding me?
They remind me so much of how we were and there’s such a massive part of me that would like to go back to that special year together. When we could sit around eating cake, mourning the lack of sleep and berating our other halves for sleeping through the nightfeed. Again. We had so much back then. Because we had each other. Before life and a million more kids got in the way.
We are all so wonderfully different (by which I mean neurotic) and in any other world we might not be friends. But babies have brought us together and the insanity of motherhood has kept us from drifting apart. I still call you my NCT friends but each one of you is actually more like a best friend. I should really relabel you.
It’s almost 6 years to the day that we met. We now have 19 children between us. And despite house moves and life getting in the way, not once have we not been there for each other. Not once have we judged each other. Not once.
The friends you make through babies are unlike any other you make in your life. There are no boundaries. You spend approximately 15 seconds getting to know one another. You’ve talked about your vagina before you’ve mentioned what you do for a living. And there’s absolutely no one I’d rather talk about my vag with. My rubbery, old nipples. My crazy obsession with Gina Ford.
I blame you lot for my weak pelvic floor. For making me laugh soooo hard, I can’t remember what we were laughing about. Actually, I blame you for having three kids. Because, sitting here now, I realise that I was trying to recreate that magic first year again and again. Well, that sort of backfired, didn’t it?
And yes, I do remember that it wasn’t all magic. The lack of sleep and fluctuating hormones, combined with not having a blooming clue, was actually pretty crap. But you lot were magic.
You still are.