One of the things my husband and I promised ourselves while we were expecting our first child was that we would not lose our conversation. We swore that, unlike so many of our peers, we would not forgo the ability to carry on an intelligent adult-level discourse about things in the world just because a precious and infinitely remarkable little being had become the center and focus of our lives, our consciousness, our interest, our reason for existence, etc.
Six months after our son was born, we had some friends over for dessert and coffee. They were about our age, but their children were grown; we were late starters. Our pride and joy was lying in a playpen, amusing himself with the usual flapping and gurgling, while we chatted with our friends. At some point I realized that we were all watching him like a television set, and I heard myself boasting that he could roll over by himself. Presently he did, and my husband and I both exclaimed, “Look, he did it! Did you see that?”
One woman set her coffee cup down, assumed a look of animated fascination, and said, “What else can this prodigy do?”
After they went home that night, I told my husband, “We’ve lost our conversation.”
It took us a while, but eventually we did get it back. Some folks never do.
It is very hard for new parents to maintain much in common with their friends who are at a much earlier or later stage of their reproductive lives (or never intend to have one). Despite their best intentions, they are apt to be obsessively centered on the little ones. This is probably good for the survival of the species but very bad for social relations with any but their own relatives and other new parents. Please be a bit charitable and forgiving, express some interest in your friend now and then (without overly encouraging her with inquiries about her offspring), and understand that it is probably going to be at least 10 years and maybe 20 years before she can tear herself away from mommyhood long enough to resume a normal friendship with you.