We’ve been friends for 30 years—and motherhood has brought us even closer

When Emily was just 16, her mother was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer. Her mother managed to battle the disease for a handful of years before it became too much. During our sophomore year of college, at the age of 20, Emily lost her mother.

I will never forget the day of the funeral. I stood outside of the funeral home and the hearse drove around the circle driveway. Emily put her hand up to the window in the back seat, looked me in the eyes, and started crying. I wanted to leap into that hearse and cradle her tightly—never letting go. As true friends do, I did my best to be there for her the months following. But a few years later, the unthinkable happened—she lost her father, too.

Despite losing her parents at such a young age, Emily stood resilient. She married a couple of years before me and began having babies immediately. Me? Well, I was still in party-mode—meandering into bars and staying out late on the weekends . I was also getting comfortable in my teaching career and put my all into that—not even thinking about starting a family of my own. Emily and I still chatted weekly, but we grew distant.

Looking back, I should have done more to support my best friend in the most important role of her life—a new mother. But I didn’t. Motherhood came naturally to Emily. She breastfed with ease and when her babies fussed, she tended to them with patience.

I almost felt as though she didn’t need my support in that way—I felt like nothing had changed. But she became a mother —of course things changed. I didn’t visit as often as I should have and I felt neglected when she couldn’t hang out as much on the weekends. I was selfish. I didn’t even try to walk in her shoes, because at that time, I didn’t even want to think about motherhood for myself.

The forest rooted between us grew taller. But finally, we trudged through it, met halfway, and did what we both knew we needed to—we had it out. After an argument over the phone and some tears shed, we became stronger. Friendships are like all relationships, and sometimes you just have to have that heated discussion.

When I finally started my own family, Emily was there for me. She supported me by holding my newborn when he just wouldn’t stop crying. She brought over meals for our family and scooped my son up for 20 minutes just so I could take a shower. No, I was not a natural mother like Emily. But that only made her support me more.

When the guilt of not being able to breastfeed suffocated me, instead of judging me, she let me know it was okay. This made me realize what motherhood was all about—imperfect mothers applauding one another—No. Matter. What. After Emily encouraged me to shed the breastfeeding guilt, I was finally able to enjoy motherhood—and be good at it, too.

Today, Emily’s kids are like big cousins to mine. Her kids teach my kids how to fish and her kids give my kids their old dress-up clothes.