How To Lose a Friend in 10 Months

June 26, 2006

**Edited below
As promised, more Heavy and Really Sort Of Morose Blogging. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If morose bores you, scroll back a post and reflect upon roller-skating, Steve Zissou, David Hasselhoff, and the retirement of the It’s Not Easy Being Green Dancers…

I read a lot of books and magazines and websites about parenting and motherhood while I was pregnant with WonderBaby. I read about breastfeeding and sleep schedules and sleep arrangements and Attachment Parenting and baby whispering and swaddling and SIDS and PPD and all variety of issues and ideas related to Having a Baby. I learned a lot, and nothing at all. End of the day, even with all of the relevant information swirling around in my head, I was on my own. The books and magazines and websites gave me tools, but they didn’t tell me how to distinguish between the tools (most of which, as we all know, have competing functions), or how to choose which tools to use. I was on my own.

I expected this. Even as I studied, frenetically and, ultimately, fruitlessly, about how to cope with sleepless nights and endless feedings and the constant anxiety, I knew that nothing could prepare me for the challenge that I would face on my own, and for being alone (even with my phenomenally supportive husband) in that experience. I knew that I would feel isolated.

What I didn’t know was how isolated I would feel. And I didn’t know that new motherhood would bring new forms of isolation. I didn’t know that it would isolate me from old friends. I didn’t know that it would cause me to lose friendships.

I had read about this, of course, losing friends after becoming a mother. I think that it’s an editorial rule at all pregnancy and parenting magazines that a story about losing friends as a consequence of new motherhood must appear at least once every three issues. I’d seen the articles. I’d seen the discussions at parenting websites. I just didn’t think that the issue applied to me.

My friends were good friends. Life friends. The people that I spent time with and shared myself with were – are – people that I enjoy and trust and really, really like. There aren’t a lot of them. Acquaintances come and go, and I assumed that I would have a lot less contact with acquaintances once the mother ship landed. But my friends, I assumed, would understand that I would no longer be able to dash out for coffee or spend long, lazy evenings drinking wine and chatting. Not for a while, anyway.

So I was gobsmacked to read, in a recent e-mail from someone with whom I have been very close friends for over a decade, that I had been neglecting the friendship and that, accordingly, she viewed the friendship as dead. We had been exchanging e-mails and occasional phone calls, but it wasn’t, in her view, enough. So that was it. It was over. “I’ve already mourned the loss,” she said, “don’t e-mail me back.”

There’s much that could be said about this, about the shock and hurt that accompanies the sudden and unexpected death of a friendship. About how and why new motherhood – parenthood – might cause such a death. How new motherhood affects one’s ability to maintain normal levels of social contact. About how I thought that I was doing pretty well, making sure that I stayed in touch, making sure that I explained why it was so difficult to get out of the house anytime other than weekday afternoons (weekends being reserved, largely, for making up lost time with a very busy Husband). There’s much that I would like to say about this, because I know that she’ll read it and I want her to hear it. But it wouldn’t make much of a difference, because, end of the day, she did not end the friendship because my ability to socialize became impaired by new motherhood.

She ended the friendship because I blog.

Not because I have blogged about her or about the friendship. Not because I have violated confidences or said inappropriate things. This friendship was not dooced. What happened was this: she ended the friendship because, despite the constraints that new motherhood imposes upon my time and energies – constraints that limit the time that I spend socializing – I find time and energy to blog.

You make time, she said, for what matters.

True enough. I do make time for blogging. But I make time in 5 or 10 or, maybe, if I’m very, very lucky, 20 minute increments. I blog late at night, or first thing in the morning. Sometimes, I do it with WonderBaby latched to the boob. Often, I am unwashed and in pajamas, munching on an already-partially-teethed teething biscuit. (I know. I have just shattered the widely-shared romantic vision of HBM seated, with her laptop, at a tidy secretaire in an oak-panelled library, clad in stylish loungewear and sipping tea from a china cup). It is not, in other words, time that would otherwise be spent maintaining real life social networks. If any relationship takes a hit from the blogging, it is my marriage: many an evening, after WonderBaby is abed, the Husband gets assigned dinner duty while I finish a post. And so far as I know, Husband is not planning on leaving me because blogging matters more than helping him make dinner. (Um, Husband… right?)

But ‘making time’ is not really the issue here, either. I’m pretty sure that my old friend wouldn’t begrudge me time spent writing, if writing was – and it certainly is this, as she well knows – a sanity-saver. The issue is that I am writing in what amounts to a public forum. I am not only writing, I am communicating. I am sharing my secrets, confiding my fears, telling my stories – to the Internet. To blog-friends. Secrets and fears and stories that I otherwise would be – should be – confiding to real-life friends. To her.

I get this. Sort of. Which is to say, I would get this if I had been the sort of friend who regularly confided secrets and fears. But I wasn’t. Oh, I would, certainly, regularly catch good friends up on what was going on in my life, things that were bugging me, that kind of thing. But I’ve never been the sort of friend who easily shares her anxieties and fears and griefs. Hell, I’m not really that sort of wife: the Husband knows that the surest sign that I’m upset about something is if I stop talking. The more bothered I am by something, the less likely I am to talk about it.

Stop the presses: I do not like to ‘share.’

To be more clear, I do not like to talk about things that bother me or hurt me or grieve me or move me beyond my comfort zone. I do not like hearing the sound of my own voice drone on about something that pains me. It’s like fingernails down a blackboard. And I do not like to cry – hurt cry, pain cry – with other people. I do not like being held by anyone – other than my mother, my father or my husband – while I cry. I hate it. It unnerves me. Makes me feel exposed.

I don’t know why this is. There’s probably a good long post about why I am emotionally reserved. My psychiatrist thought that it was cause for concern: someone who hates talking about her worries and fears is, she said, going to struggle more desperately with the worries and fears that new motherhood can bring. She was right. But I still never talked about it.

I hate talking about ‘it’ – about fear or pain or sadness. When my nephew was diagnosed with a terminal illness, I withdrew from everybody but my husband. When we had to go through genetic testing and counselling to address the very likely possibility that I carried the same gene that will kill my nephew – the gene that I would almost certainly pass on any son I might bear, that would certainly kill any son that inherited it from me – I clammed up entirely. Didn’t speak of it, unless pressed to. Because I couldn’t bear to.

And this – this emotional reservedness, this clamming up – has never been more true for me than it has been during this first half-year of motherhood. It has been hard. Real hard. And I have not wanted to talk about how hard it is. Nor have I wanted to talk about how those challenges, those sometimes painful challenges, are well-steeped in joy. Motherhood has not only challenged me, it has pained me and confused me and amazed me and filled me with such joy that I sometimes cannot breath. And I have found it hard to talk about this, because the sound of my own voice seems to take the feelings away from me, make them not my own, disassociate them from me. It breaks the intimacy of my own experience of those feelings, it removes them from me in a way that is, to me, strange-making.

But writing doesn’t do that. Writing about my fears and anxieties and sadnesses and joys – some of them, anyway – brings me closer to those feelings. Somehow, seeing them on the page makes them real in a way that is not strange-making. I don’t know why that is.

And sharing those feelings, through writing, with family and friends and other parents, makes them even more real and accessible. It brings them alive for me, to share them in this way, to know that others are reading and nodding their heads or shaking their heads or engaging in any way with those ideas, those feelings. I don’t share all of those feelings, and I don’t share many details when the feelings are rooted in very personal stories. I remain circumspect on many fronts. But I am saying more – much, much more – out loud, in writing, than I ever have using my own voice.

It would not be the same, exactly, if I reserved all of these stories for utterance in my own voice, in the privacy of a friend’s living room, or the intimacy of a coffee-shop huddle. I don’t know why. I do know, however, that this is why I blog. This, and the desire to find community with other parents, other people who are going through the same, or similar, experiences as I am, and who are grappling with the same, or similar, fears and anxieties and joys that I am. Who find shit – real shit, in a diaper – funny. Gross, and frustrating, but also fascinating, and funny. Who understand that one can feel profound anxiety and frustration and joy all at once. Who understand that these experiences are sometimes difficult to talk about.

I’m not saying that I can only share myself through writing. I’d be in real trouble if that were true. I would not be able to sustain relationships if that were true. And, so far, I have been able to sustain relationships, while I have struggled through the challenges of new motherhood and while I have sought solace and release in writing. I think, actually, that writing openly has done much to enrich and enliven my relationships. I’m sharing so much more of myself with friends and family, near and far. Getting the shit that bugs me or causes me stress out of my head and onto the page leaves more room for talking about things that matter: I have more space in my mind and heart for chattering about the immense joy that WonderBaby brings once I’ve gotten the kickin’ my ass kickin’ my ass kickin’ my ass complaints out of the way. And it has reignited my love of storytelling, and my desire to tell stories, stories and more stories. With my keyboard and with my voice.

But this friend does not want to hear them, not now. Not under these circumstances. She does not, she said, want to be “a window-licker,” reading about my life alongside other readers. Reading, rather than participating.

I can understand that feeling, and I would be fully sympathetic, and apologetic, if I had shut the doors on her, or on anybody in my life. But I haven’t; I really, really haven’t. The doors that she begrudges me were never fully open, or were only ever opened after some well-intentioned, loving prying. What’s changed is, a new set of doors have been opened, doors that I feel comfortable opening, doors that I enjoy opening. And they open, it seems, onto a public square, rather than a private, exclusive courtyard.

I can’t change that. I don’t want to change that. I am very, very sorry that this makes my friend unhappy. I didn’t want the friendship to end; any perceived neglect was unintentional, the result of the circumstances of a new, strange life, a life that is no longer fully my own. But that friendship could only live in these new circumstances under the terms of these new circumstances. Circumstances that put new loves – WonderBaby – first. Circumstances that draw me toward new friends, friends that share and understand these circumstances. Circumstances that have drawn me out into the world in a different way. Circumstances that have changed me, and my stories.

I didn’t want those circumstances – as if a baby, a new life, a new love, the greatest love, is only a circumstance – to undermine our friendship. I didn’t expect them too. I’m sorry that they did. But I am not sorry for those circumstances. I can’t be; I won’t be.

Am I wrong? Have I violated the terms of a friendship? Is it unfair to expect to old friends to adapt as my life changes? Do the changes that parenthood brings necessarily sound the death knell for pre-parental relationships? (And – I have to ask this, I’m sorry – is this a girl thing?) Is blogging – blogging baby, or blogging anything – bad for real-world friendships? Must it be?

There’s someone new hanging in the Basement, sharing her feelings and anxieties. Go visit with her, and give her some support.

**And – NOW PLAYING at MamaBlogsToronto – When WonderBaby Met Bumper (Baby). It’s a mommy-blogger/blogger-baby love story, and it’s nice. Check it.

Mama loves. Better than ever. And, for fun, sets babies adrift on random bits of styrofoam…

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    penelopeto June 28, 2006 at 8:18 am

    wow, hbm – clearly your post, so eloquent and honest, has resonated through the hearts of lots of us. i think women – particularly moms – go through this. it happened to me when i got a serious bf (now hubs), it happened when we got engaged, it happened when i had our baby. i don’t want to judge your friend, but with the ones that i lost, i realized that they had always had issues with someone being happy when they were not. it was a shock to me too – once we hit a certain age, we don’t expect friends we’ve had for a decade to break up with us. we expect them to share our joy, share our lives and stick it out with us. i’m sure you’ve lived through her ‘distractions’ with freindship intact, but she probably doesn’t remember that part.
    it’s amazing how, just when you think you have a handle on this completely intense, completely new set of circumstances (i.e. motherhood), something happens and you are once again plunged into feeling like everything you’ve relied on as true is not.

    crazymumma June 28, 2006 at 9:59 am

    Ouch…breaking up is hard to do. Your post really resonated, and I am sorry you have had that experience.
    On the other side if blog land, I wrote about how I felt I had broken up with a long term friend, roles were reversed, me the Mum, her not. For many of the same reasons.
    Lesson: freedom of speech it ain’t, these darn blogs can get a gal into trouble.

    Beautiful writing, I will visit again to read….Anne

    HomeFireBlue June 28, 2006 at 10:02 am

    Wonderful post and everyeon pretty much said (much better) what I feel.

    I do think that friends – like spouses – must learn to accept a persons growing and changing. Relationships can’t be static. You have to adapt.


    Silly Hily June 28, 2006 at 12:00 pm

    I’m so sorry that your friend felt the need to e-mail you what she did. I’m also sorry to say that in my opinion, if she were a “real” friend, she would totally understand that your life has changed since becoming a mother and she would accept that. I hope that one day she is able to experience motherhood first-hand and realize how hard and wonderful it is and appreciate how you DID try to stay in contact with her the best you could.

    Papa Bradstein June 28, 2006 at 7:24 pm

    You’re not wrong. You’re so right, and you’re doing such good for yourself and for the rest of us who, like myself, read this and said, “Yes. That’s why I do this.” And then said it again when we read the next paragraph. And again.

    It is not unfair to expect her to adapt. After all, she was expecting you to adapt your motherhood to her needs, why can’t you expect her to adapt to your motherhood?

    As for blogging being bad for real world relationships, I find that blogging primes the pump, getting me started talking. About me, about 3B, about anything. Once I get started, often I keep going in email to friends and family (who are all distant, making phone calls not so easy). I find that, as a result, I’m in closer contact with more people. Sure, most of it is done via the net, but most of my friends and family are distant, making phone calls less convenient, since we’re not all awake at the same times.

    Thanks for writing what I haven’t been able to express.

    Mardougrrl June 28, 2006 at 9:58 pm

    This was an amazing post, as usual. I can completely understand the urge to write/blog about something that would be nearly impossible to describe in person. Something about the cool impartiality of the blank page reflects your own mind back to you in a way that another person often cannot.

    Having a child has affected many of my friendships negatively too…not so much because I blog (although my writing friends wonder why I “waste” my time doing that instead of working on the novel…um, because it’s cheaper than therapy and I can do it while Madam is napping) but because they cannot seem to fathom how different my life is now. They expect me to spend my time catching up on the latest indy movies and local theatre scene. Unless you count the local puppet theatre scene, that’s just not my life anymore.

    It sounds like you did your best to include this friend in your life, in spite of your newly constricted free time, but she still thinks you are giving us, your readers, something that you can’t give her. And it’s too bad that she cannot see that this is the way you are processing this whole amazing, frustrating, frightening, overwhelming motherhood time.

    Thank you so much for this post.

    Nancy June 28, 2006 at 11:14 pm

    So sorry to be late arriving. I must say I gasped reading this, because I could so much relate to what you said about not discussing the most upsetting, most critical fears in life with people in real life and out loud. And I have thought about what it’s like to have someone I care about read something for the first time on my blog, something I haven’t been able to express out loud (this happens to my hubby sometimes) — but I have decided that the value the blog provides as a release outweighs the risk that I might offend. And, I figure those who truly love me will “get” me in that way.

    I do hope your friend reads this beautiful piece of writing and can come to her senses. It might well be that the friendship can’t be mended, but she’d be well served to realize that this isn’t all about her.

    Hugs to you, HBM.

    Izzy June 30, 2006 at 6:53 pm

    As usual, I’m late to the party… My two closest friends in the world do NOT know about my blog. Part of the reason is because of some of the reasons you also stated; not liking to share etc. I mean, I can vent and be angry and share that with anyone but the more personal things, the things which aren’t necessarily secret but the things that are like little peepholes that let you see behind the “mask” and get glimpses of what’s really on my mind or in my heart. It’s one thing for you to read it on my blog and then get to know me IN THAT WAY. It’s another entirely for you to have known me one way for years and then find that there are things you didn’t know or never bothered to see or I didn’t let you see. So for now, it seems best to keep the old blog to myself, despite the anguish it causes me to keep it hidden from them. I love my blog and honestly, I’m afraid it would ruin it for me. Because, like this comment, it’s ALL about me ;p

    But your friend is kind of making it all about her. A truly good friend might have considered that blogging is good for you and it serves a purpose that you need served. Honestly, she sounds a little jealous. But that’s neither here nor there. One thing I’ve learned is that people come in and out of your life. Period. Saying goodbye hurts but not everything is meant to last forever. Anyway, I’ve hijacked your comments and I should really just shut up now. {{hugs}}

    sparklykatt July 4, 2006 at 7:43 pm

    I just found your blog, apparently I’ve been living under a rock. But Hurray! I did find it.

    I too struggle with truth in blogging. Especially because right now my husband is the only regular reader of my blog. I started to blog because I needed a place to vent, destress. Since half the time I’m venting about him, or wanting to, I’m not sure it’s such a great thing that he reads it. None of my other friends know about my blog, and I think that it will remain that way.

    On another note, I just finished reading about your nephew Tanner. I spent fifteen summers volunteering with kids with MD at their summer camps in Michigan. Those were some of the best weeks of my life. One of the most memorable moments was listening to a couple of the little boys (six to ten years old) I took care, of talking to each other about what they were going to be when they grew up. It was so NORMAL! Yet, within that conversation was also talk about dying and would they grow up. It was all so matter of fact and none of them seemed upset by it. I think that conversation hit me harder than it did any of them. In our area kids were able to attend summer camp once they were five years old. I hope that is something your nephew gets to experience some day. It’s a great place where all the kids with MD get to be “normal” kids for a week.

    It's okay, Sweetie July 4, 2006 at 11:57 pm

    Female relationships are complex – much more so than our male counterparts. Multiply that complexity by 2 in adulthood. It becomes even more difficult to attain those bonds. (In fact, I wrote a post about this called “On Women Loving Women”.)

    …and I think technology, not just blogging, makes that gap even wider.

    I’m one who could NOT let go of old friendships, despite the fact that they’d long since fizzled. I still tried to blow air into a deflated balloon I guess you could say. Why? Because I hate losing people I love in my life and because I was afraid I wouldn’t find that kind of connection again. Especially because of all the TIME invested in that relationshiop.

    Time. It all boils down to that. How can a new mother split her time…

    So to circle back to my point. You came to a crossroads with your friend. You’re not ready to let go. The post speaks to that. You handled the situation eloquently. And be prepared that this may not change her mind. But in a few years, when your child is older and you CAN spend more time on yourself, she may come back into your life. Or maybe by then you will have decided on your own that the friendship was a chapter in your life and you’ll close that book and put it on the shelf.

    This is painful for someone without a child. Because you’ve grown and moved forward into a place she can not join you. I too have friends in that place. And I feel the gravitational pull. But my child is my first priority. And someday, when she is a woman, I’ll prepare her for the same events that challenged me as a new mother as well.

    Here from Sarah via the Perfect Post Award.

    Indeed a perfect post it was.

    It's okay, Sweetie July 5, 2006 at 12:01 am

    I meant to add that I read the post on your Nephew. It won’t help to tell you how I cried over this, but my heart goes out to you, your nephew, and his family. And I hope someday a cure is found.

    J. July 5, 2006 at 10:48 am

    I had one gf who got into a bit of a snit because of my blogging. Same sort of stuff (window licking) but we talked and she realized it was a creative outlet for me, that had nothing to do with our friendship.
    Too bad your gf couldn’t understand that. But it would seem that you are better off without her.

    Jen July 5, 2006 at 10:50 pm

    You have written something amazing here. I think that people forget how much easier it is to pour your heart out to a bunch of strangers….strangers that you never see their faces, and unless they post a comment, you don’t hear their opinion back therefore you’re not afraid of speaking your mind and heart.

    It is too bad that you have lost a friend over this, however, it is her loss.

    From one GTA mom to another – HUGS!

    Gidge July 5, 2006 at 10:52 pm

    Isn’t it odd that our friends don’t always come along with us on the ride that parenthood takes us on. We become such different people, while still trying to be ourselves in some way.
    I am sorry you lost your friend. I will not say you are better off without her, as I do not know her. But it certainly seems that there are bigger issues at work on her side than just your blogging.

    The best part about life is making the new friends. The unexpected friends. The ones you didn’t even know were coming along.

    Anonymous July 12, 2006 at 12:05 am

    I just discovered your blog through a friend of a friend and am so impressed by your great writing, humour and honesty.

    Your post about the loss of a friendship due to new parenthood is so powerful. You mention that all “the books” etc. warn us about this, but it’s so hard to find anything honest and accurate about what really happens to the social lives of new moms (especially how hard it is to manage one’s social life after a baby!!). I have been thinking a lot about how I treated my old girlfriends that had children before me. I “get it” now, but I certainly wasn’t all that understanding, nor was I the friend that I could have been. Perhaps, your friend will come around one day (after she’s had children, of course!).

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    Jennifer August 23, 2006 at 8:27 pm

    Hi, I just came across your blog. I can relate so much to what you are saying. I too do not like to “share” my feelings and thoughts and all that other stuff with my friends. I blog about it.

    I too lost friends once I got married and had a child. My single friends didn’t get it. Finally when they got married and had children they contacted me to finally say “im, sorry! I now know what you meant”. It’s a shame that people can’t adapt and understand when you have children that your life will change. That you will no longer be able to do things you used to do. But eventually they will “get it”.
    I am going through a loss of friendship(s) lately due to other reasons that I even don’t fully understand.
    I wish you luck!

    Anonymous October 28, 2006 at 4:00 am

    The same thing happened to me – my best friend had her baby and didn’t have the time for me. Given the fact that i had just experienced the worst three months of my life with a death in the family, it was difficult for both of us. I didn’t understand her new situation and she didn’t understand mine. Unfortunately she didn’t have the head space or time to try and understand mine. It was a difficult for both of us. But because she has a baby everything has to be on her terms. Just once I would like her to call me and see how I am, see how sad I am, see how lonely I am. She gained and I lost, but she doesn’t seem to realise this. She thinks it was the most difficult time in her life for her, but it is the beginning of a beautiful life. Unfortunately you never know until you experience it. I won’t know what it is like till i have a baby, and she won’t know until she experiences what i did. And i don’t want her to have the same experiences as me. I would just like some consideration of my circumstances.

    Anonymous November 3, 2006 at 3:35 pm

    Well… here I am the lady with no baby and no intentions of having one. I would like to leave a comment on behalf of the lady being slammed, in support of the lady being slammed.
    Have you considered that it is not the blogging taking place that has left her heart broken but perhaps the fact that you do not pick up the phone and call. You do not take 2 minutes to send her an email, when you have more than 2 minutes to write to the rest of the world?
    That perhaps you have left her out of your life when she never left you out of hers?
    I too am “mourning the loss” of my best friend who just had a baby.
    I think a lot of your are correct in your stance of communication. But do you want to call your best friend and say… hey … why don’t you call anymore? It’s pretty obvious when someone does not call you and they used to call everyday. She knows she doesn’t call.
    I call every week just to keep in touch. There are no returned phone calls. I know she still likes me and I am still considered a friend. But when the phone calls that you used to get are now going to new people (with babies and children) it makes you wonder if perhaps you are being forgotten because you don’t have a baby-you can’t possibly understand. I say try me… pick up the phone and try me … I just might understand.. but I can’t if you don’t call.
    OK so before all you mummies out there start slamming me .. which of course I expect, as I get that in the community I live in. “She doesn’t understand how much work it is to have a baby.”
    Sorry ladies… life is work… and when you choose to have a baby … that’s what’s going to happen… you are going to have to work hard at maintaining your life… that means maintaining friendships… They are a two way street.
    I too am incredibly busy I run two companies and also have to clean the house, wash clothes, wash the floor. I work just as long hours as a mother with a baby (might I add that I don’t get to sleep in because the baby didn’t wake me this morning.. no I still have to get up at the same time and get my work done).
    So in closing… all you ladies with new babies. Don’t forget your friends are still there. We are busy and we make the time for you. Friendships are relationships it take two to have one. So pick up the phone or send an email. Be persistant.
    If you want a friendship then you need to be a communicater to.

    Her Bad Mother November 3, 2006 at 4:09 pm

    Hey, Anonymous.

    My (former) friend was not being slammed – by me, anyway. I was simply expressing my hurt that she would abandon the friendship. She made a choice, I don’t like that choice, there you go.

    You’re right that time spent blogging – at whatever hour – could be time spent sending e-mails. I didn’t stop communicating with this friend – I still sent and responded to e-mails – but the communication did become less frequent. On BOTH sides. The thing was, I had made it clear that my time was really, really pressed, what with a new baby and all (and? Can I add? There is NO WORK in this world that is as bone-crushingly and psychically tiring. You will never know this unless you have a baby. Sorry. I don’t care how many companies you run or how early you get up – it’s not the same.)

    I was exhausted, all of the time. And fighting off PPD. Writing was a life-saver. Friend knew this. But Friend couldn’t see past her own issues in order to give me the time and support to get used to my new life.

    Sure, communication runs two ways. But shouldn’t good friends recognize and be patient and supportive during difficult times? This friend just wrote me off, didn’t even try to work things out, not even when I asked her to NOT write me off. She didn’t want to hear it. That’s not good friendship.

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    Scattered Mom October 19, 2007 at 7:53 pm

    This just happened to me a few days ago. Friendship of 11 years, suddenly just…gone.

    Blogging was a big part of the reason why.

    She always said that she would do everything she could and never just walk away, but in the end all it took was one e-mail that said “I can’t stay in this friendship any longer.”

    The worst thing?

    I had been horribly sick for months, going to docs and trying to figure out if I had some life altering disease…sick, scared, and depressed. She waited until I was well and dropped the bomb. I feel like all that time she was simply humouring me.

    Anonymous July 31, 2008 at 10:12 am

    This is my first time reading your blog and my first time responding to any blog. I searched for this topic on google because I’m trying to deal with life on the other end of the spectrum. I think its great you are able to feel connected to the world through blogging. What a great time we live in!

    My 2 closest friends had babies within the past couple of years. I am hopeful that soon I will have kids–I’m engaged to be married in a month, and we want to start trying soon after. It was strange because of the three of us our one friend, H, had a baby first and the two of us childless ones were left wondering “what happened to her?” It was like she fell of the face of the earth. And she didn’t express to us how hard it was to return our calls, she didn’t invite us to the baptism or 1 year old party. She didn’t meet my now fiancee until a year after we had started dating. We were just cut off by her. Then the other friend, S, got pregnant–with twins! I was estatic for her because she had been trying for 7 years and had gone through great lengths to get pregnant. Now the twins are 10 months old and the hardest part is that she moved 2 hours away while still pregnant. Despite her distance she is my maid of honor, she calls me when the kids are napping. She emails me, sends me pictures of them, made it up to one of my dress shopping experiences. She has told me about how they haven’t slept in 3 days. She hasn’t cut me out of her life.

    It is a 2-way street. It is hard for the ones left behind because they can’t understand and it’s this exclusive club that they aren’t allowed to enter. But you can take pictures and share stories and invite them to peek through the back door. The first friend, H, still lives 20 minutes away. I know she cares about me and considers me a friend. I have thought about saying something to her but I don’t know what to say without sounding “selfish” and like a “bad friend” i just miss knowing her. Maybe if she had a blog I wouldn’t feel so bad cuz at least then I’d have some portal into her life. Good for you for finding an outlet to share with others that understand you. This has helped me writing this, maybe I need to start a blog! What would you mommies out there advise us non-mommy friends to do?

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