I get it. No, I really do…

Tuesday night I talked to a long, lost friend. In the last six months or so we’ve been separated by distance, schedules and… a pregnancy.

She is pregnant. And I am thrilled for her. She and I share a love of “the plan”. We used to talk for hours about our life plans. Some of the minor details would change depending on what was going on but the major life changes were set in stone.

And having a baby right now was not in her plan.

I found out she was pregnant when her husband posted his status on facebook as “XX is going to be a daddy”.

Seriously.

To say I was hurt is really an understatement. Sad, disappointed, confused, surprised. And I was angry. Both at her for not telling me and for the reason she didn’t tell me. I wasn’t 100% sure but I felt pretty confident in saying she was uncomfortable telling her friend who desperately wanted a baby that she’d gotten pregnant. And hadn’t planned on it.

We emailed and I told her I was hurt but that I was happy for her. She called but I just couldn’t talk it through with her yet. I wasn’t entirely sure what I would say. I knew my heart was happy for her but I couldn’t guarantee what craziness would come out of my mouth when we talked.

I suffer from “Foot in Mouth” disease.

Fanny nick-named me “Bulls Eye” because I am brutally honest. My friends seem to appreciate that about me. Most of the time. My family, probably not so much. I find myself being ridiculously quiet in an effort to not say anything stupid. I’ve done that enough already and I’d like to keep those events from reoccurring as much as possible.

So anyway, when I saw her number pop up on my cell phone Tuesday night, I made the split second decision that I was ready to handle it.

And it was hard. She cried and I cried and she apologized and I apologized. And then it was over. We talked about school, due dates, work, the nursery, our husbands, baby names, churches, showers and when we would be able to get together again. It was easy. Like it always has been talking with her.

After we hung up, I told Chris, look, I get it. Honestly, I do. I can’t blame her for not knowing what to say. I can’t blame her for being afraid of hurting me. I can’t blame her for any of it. I don’t even trust myself so why should anyone else in my life trust me?

I wish more than anything infertility didn’t change things this way. I wish the people in our life could understand. I wish they weren’t so afraid of hurting us. I wish I could promise them I’d always be supportive and it would never hurt to celebrate in their joy. But I can’t promise that and I can’t blame them for shying away from us.

I am just so thankful she didn’t give up on me. She kept calling. Sometimes, that’s all I need. Just to see your number pop up on my cell phone. And just because I don’t answer it doesn’t mean I don’t miss you or don't want to be a part of your life. It only means that for today, I love you too much to inflict myself and all my issues on you. But please, please call back.