Tuesday, May 13, 2008

So, there's that.

I'm having a pity party, and everyone is invited!

Last weekend, I had lunch with a few close girlfriends to celebrate one of their birthdays. I've known these gals my entire life, pretty much, and am glad that they're all back in Austin after living across the country (and world, in one case). These are my girls. We've been through it all together. But. . .this lunch was the first time that I really felt excluded from them. One of them, E, has two sons--the oldest just turned 4 and the younger is almost 16 months. Another, A, has an 8 month old girl. And the other, M, is six months pregnant. We're throwing M a baby shower this summer, so during dessert, talk naturally turned to planning. I've thrown baby showers for the other girls (and other friends), but when A started talking (lecturing) about bottles/pacifiers/baby paraphenalia, I wanted to leave the table. I know M took E with her to register, and it makes sense that she'd want someone with her who has a lot of recent mothering experience. Friend A had apparently already looked up her registry online, and had a lot of advice about things that worked for her, so M mentioned having them both look over her list when she's finished. During the entire conversation, the 3 of them pretty much ignored me. Which. . .I suppose I understand, but it still hurt my feelings.

I know the three of them talk and see each other often without me. M and E are best friends, much more so since E moved back to Austin two years ago. (Why yes, M and I were closer when E lived across the country.) E and A don't work, so they are available to spend time together during the days, when I am otherwise engaged at the office. I admit that every time I hear about them getting together without me, I feel a little bit left out. On the other hand, I am not making an effort to see them outside of our group gatherings, either. Yes, I think I'm a little jealous that they all seem to want to spend time in small groups of two without me, but I also could be calling them all the time to get together. This is where the tiny pity party voice says "I should call because it's not like they're calling ME." So, there's that.

But the baby shower/registry thing was different. Yes, I want to have kids, and it hasn't happened yet. I don't expect my friends to try and walk on eggshells around me because of that--they really don't even know, which is the way I want it. But, I feel like I've been supportive during my friend's pregnancy--emailing her about her dr's appointments, keeping up with her progress, etc. And it's like she is moving into motherhood and she's leaving me behind. I'm feeling sorry for myself, and that's making me want to retreat from my friends. Particularly in the case of the baby shower planning. When A took over the conversation to ask M lots of questions about the baby shower--and suggest crafts she had already started planning--I wanted to say "no one wants to make hand-sewn onesies, can you let someone else get a word in edgewise?" But I kept my control issues on party planning quiet. The tiny voice was proud of me for that concession. If she wants to do all the work--the work I usually do--then fine. I can tell she's feeling out-of-sorts because she isn't working, so if she needs a project, she can have it. That sounds mean in my head, though. When am I suddenly the kid who picks up her toys and goes home?

So why am I feeling sorry for myself? Because it feels like my friends don't want to spend time with me? Because I am not pregnant yet? Because I like to be in charge of all things party planning related? Because it's annoying to listen to lectures on appropriate/good things for a baby (and heaven forbid that I received this lecture when I actually am pg because I might not have an appropriate response)? I feel like I need to just get over myself and let it go. I'm hoping that getting it all out will help.

*****
Only tangentially related:

On Sunday, at church, the lady in front of me started crying.

Quite a bit of the sermon was Mother's Day focused, and at the end, the priest invited all the children in the congregation up to the front to watch him crown a statue of Mary. There was a children's choir for the service, so during the crowning, a little girl sang "Ave Maria." It was lovely; since our wedding, that song always brings a tear to my eye. After the tiny crown was placed on the statue, the priest indicated that the children could touch the statue. I'm not sure why he encouraged this, or what he told them, but we soon saw each of the children in the crowd around the altar move towards the statue and give it a poke or a pet or--in one small girl's case--a full-on hug that required her to be pried away by her mom. I felt a little sentimental during the display, thinking about having a child, and being a mom.

And then I noticed that the woman in front of me was crying. I could tell by her shaking shoulders, and the way she kept wiping her face near her eyes. I could see that her husband was also suffering--he held his quiviering chin tightly and also wiped his eyes a time or two. Neither of them made a sound.

I wanted to reach out and squeeze her shoulder, maybe whisper that I'd keep her in my prayers, but I didn't want to intrude on their private moment. In fact, I started to second-guess what I'd assumed was the reason for her tears. My gut reaction told me that she and her husband were aching for a child of their own, but I realized that I might be only thinking of myself. Maybe she had lost her mother. Perhaps she remembers the Ave Maria from her own wedding, and they're having a hard time right now. I didn't know, and I didn't want to call attention to her suffering by acknowledging that I saw her cry.

Instead, she will be in my thoughts. Lady, it will be okay. Whatever it is, it will be okay. We will just keep telling ourselves it will be okay until it is okay.

3 comments:

Amie said...

Part 1 - ((hugs)) What else can I say? There just isn't anything I know of.

Part 2 - OMG that story is like a punch in the gut. You are both in my prayers.

Larisa said...

I have those same feelings of jealousy and a wee bit of resentment sometimes with my mommy or preggo friends. It totally sucks to feel like you're on the outside of this exclusive club.

I guess I didn't really have much to say, but I just wanted to let you know that your emotions are completely natural. Best of luck to you.

Juicy said...

If I had been that lady in church, I would have been touched if you had reached out that way. You're sweet to notice. Most people wouldn't have thought they way you did and I want to hug you for that.