Ugh (Cont'd issues w/ friends)

By some weird coincidence, my college friend #1 called me a couple weeks ago when I had just found out about this baby. I was kind of caught off guard- it has been since probably early November since we'd talked on the phone! I was actually heading to an appointment, so I asked her to call me another night.

She called last night, and because I find it particularly sort of annoying when people talk to me when they're pregnant and don't fess up, I decided to tell her about our news.

She was very, genuinely excited for me. After all, she is one of only two of them who ever actually called after I shared our struggle with them in October, and one of only three who have been consistently supportive ever since. It warmed my heart that I finally got to share such precious news with her.

But there were a couple times in our conversation that just made me sigh, to the deepest infertile corners. (I hope no one is offended at my wording- infertility is a huge part of my journey, even though I'm pregnant now, and it still stings when I am on the receiving end of disrespect towards those who suffer its cross.)

Exhibit A: {After telling her to please keep this news between her and I because I don't feel comfortable sharing so early with the other girls, given how unsupportive they seemed in past months..."} She says , "Well you know, I think it just made them feel uncomfortable- they have never dealt with that before- they didn't know what to say."
Exhibit B: She says, "Wow, this is great! We can talk more often!"

Okay, Exhibit A.

I will use my Grandma as a counter-argument to hers. My Grandma has Alzheimer's. Do I have Alzheimer's? Nope. Have I ever known someone with Alzheimer's? Nope. Do I just cut my Grandma off, and not talk to her anymore, and tell everyone else updates about my life except her because, hey, she probably won't remember it tomorrow? Nope.

I read about it online, to find out what types of things Alzheimer's patients love to talk about (e.g., old memories are retained more than new ones). I try to remain in more contact with her now because, from what I have read, having Alzheimer's is a very isolating sometimes-scary place to be. (Sound familiar?) And for heaven's sake, I tell her everything that I would tell anyone else, and if she forgets the next day, I'll just retell her! (She was SO excited to hear about our baby! She did suggest we use some awful family name for the little tyke, which I, myself, might forget!)

It is a human tragedy that people who struggle with infertility are forced to carry their own cross, but that they also have to go around making sure their cross doesn't offend or make other people uncomfortable. Other (fertile) people should be falling over themselves trying to make sure we are just as loved and included and valued. Maybe there will be times when it's just too hard to accept an invitation for lunch from your mom-of-three-under-four friend, but the invitation should always be there. And if you email them the link to RESOLVE's "How to be a good friend to an Infertile", they should not make excuses for their lack of stepping up to the plate with you.

Now for Exhibit B.

Um. I get that her life is consumed with her young son and her baby girl due in late March/early April, so she is really into baby stuff. But why are we going to be talking more now? Even though she may not have realized it, and despite my failed attempts at trying to update my "friends" last year with things that were going on in my life, we had things in common a year ago, and six months ago, and two months ago. I think it validates my feelings that my friends really do have crazy mom-blinders on them that render things like cooking and gardening and exercise completely devoid of meaning. Who cares if I cooked an amazing dinner- the only thing I can talk about is my baby's new {whatever}!!!

I think it is kind of sad that she said we're going to talk more now. I mean, there are good things, like finally feeling like I belong and that they will now think I am a worthwhile human person, but after my struggle with infertility, those feel so superficial. I fought many nights to convince myself that I was a worthwhile human person even though our IVF failed or our first month of acupuncture didn't magically plant a baby inside.

Because if you are good friends. And I mean, really good friends with someone, your friendship (and communication) should transcend circumstances. If your good friend gets cancer, and her life is filled with medications and appointments and new realities while yours is filled with sippy cups and laundry baskets and diapers, does that mean you can't talk as much? I say that if you are truly good friends, you will talk exactly the same amount, despite whatever personal war is raging or whatever joyful song is being lifted.

(And yes, I realize that people with similar likes/interests tend to gravitate towards each other because they are concerned with the same things, but the true lifetime friendships that are there for you no matter what shouldn't vary based on what exact spot you are in today. And if people aren't willing to be your friend through thick and thin, they shouldn't kid themselves about the quality/nature of their friendships.)

(And for what it's worth, I found out that the "friend" who told everyone else except me about her pregnancy after I specifically asked them all to include me on all their emails (see link above), is due in April, and she has still not told me. Can you believe that?!)

I made the decision last November to just keep in communication with those who have been supportive to me, and this baby does not change that at all. Although I have zero desire to share our news with those who have been unsupportive (mostly because I think their sickeningly sweet emails and subsequent including me in all their updates will make my skin crawl because I was so blatantly excluded before), I will tell them....eventually. I promise before September ;-)

PS. I imagine some people might tell me to just get over myself and be happy that they are going to be happy for us and include us and all of that. I am sure they will be happy, and maybe time will heal things, but I was so hurt by them last fall that I think it is going to take years, if it ever happens. They have no idea how their words (and/or lack thereof) have hurt me. And while some may say I'm being selfish or unforgiving or considering myself to be the center of the universe, I say it's all in the name of self-preservation. Which is something that you get schooled in after struggling with infertility for so long.