That's What Friends Are For

I've been reflecting on friendship this week. The last few weeks have been met with various friends passing through the house delivering scrumptious ready-to-eat meals for Adam and me, cards arriving in the mail to congratulate us on our new arrival, and many phone calls to hear the latest on Bryony's progress. Today Bryony and I met a good friend for lunch, who performed the obligatory friend duty of ooo-ing and ahh-ing over my baby, telling me how beautiful and perfect she is. Friends are good.

Over the years, my friends have validated my distinction of having an extroverted personality. One friend, observing my social antics at a party during grad school, labelled me a "social butterfly." At the time I laughed at the thought, then realized sometime later that she was right. I have a lot of friends. I don't mean that in an egotistical way; I really do have a lot of friends. Some for partying with, some for shopping with, some for sharing long philosophical conversations, some just for a good, raunchy laugh (and some fall into multiple categories). I have been very fortunate to have met many really great people in all the places I've lived in my 31 years. Friends are good.

So I've been thinking a lot about friends this week. Last week I think I lost a good friend, and I'm still reeling from the reality of the situation, trying to figure out how to repair the damage, and saddened at the thought that all is lost. I'll keep the details sparse to be respectful, but essentially my adoring husband left Bryony with a friend against my wishes; not because I don't trust this person or think them perfectly capable of watching my child, but simply because I am not yet ready to leave Bryony with anyone. When I collected my baby and tried to gently explain to my friend that I just wasn't yet ready to leave Bryony in anyone else's care, I thought they understood. Little did I know, I had seriously hurt my friend's feelings, and despite my attempts to apologize and explain myself, the damage had been done. Losing a friend is bad.

I've never (at least in my adult life) been the type to end a friendship myself; I just hate to burn a bridge, or to think of hurting someone's feelings. I've really only ended one friendship, and though it's been a few years, the whole thing still stinks. I hate everything about the process--rationalizing the decision, making the decision, trying to be comfortable with the decision, letting go of the friendship, dealing with the awkwardness that results, wondering and second-guessing that I did the right thing to begin with. I've been thinking a lot about losing friends this week.

And so now I sit and wait to see what happens--has my friend let go of me as I once let go of one of my own friends? Will things ever get back to normal?

I've been thinking a lot about friends this week. Friends are good.