I’ve always had a hard time making really lasting friendships. Put me in a room and I can charm or get to know just about 95% of the inhabitants, but I may only be in interested in getting to know 1or 2%. And then it’s a lot like dating. Awkward moments, guardedness about yourself, etc. I’m quite picky about the people I am friends with. They have to be a special mixture of snark and kindness with an adventurous streak thrown in. And now, at least, they have to not be knocked up, focused on getting knocked up or have very young children already. That’s a pretty tall order for girls in my age group.
Given how hard it is for me to make friendships, you would think that I would work really hard to keep the ones that I have made. And I do, with one notable exception. I’ve written before about my dilemma with my best friend. I feel a small measure of guilt on a daily basis that I am not being more strong in dealing with the fact that she’s knocked up and I’m not (and in fact I’m actually going on BCPs to suppress my ovaries in preparation for the most invasive method to get pregnant known to man). I feel as if I should be able to hear whatever she has to say and be an active participant and cheerleader through her pregnancy. I know that is what she would do for me. When I called her with the wonderful news that I was finally pregnant last spring, she screamed into the phone. I was so touched. When she told me that she was pregnant in November, I sincerely wish that I could have done the same for her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t scream in excitement (although to my credit, I was very good. No crying, no pouting, no hanging up).
Since the initial flurry of emails in which I tried to tactfully and gently lay out what I can and cannot handle (ultrasounds – no way, baby pics after the blessed event – fine), I ‘ve tried to keep a low profile. We have had patches of non-communication in the past just because of fate, so I can kind of get away with being the silent type. But, I know eventually, I’m going to get that email asking how I am and I will have to decide if I want to know how she is, which really means if I want to know how her pregnancy is progressing. If I can’t, I hope that I can forgive myself and that she can forgive me for being – hopefully a temporary – selfish person.