Strangers Become Friends

Okay, today I had a deep thought of the Jack Handey variety. Remember those, from Saturday Night Live, in the 90's? Who knows, maybe they still do them. It's just I can't stay awake for Saturday Night Live Anymore, so I wouldn't know.

Here's what I was thinking: in the past year, friends have become strangers, and strangers have become friends. Okay, it's hokey. But it's really true. I have all these relationships that have pleasantly surprised me. Some, people I was already close to, my aunt, my sister, a few good friends who've been better friends than I ever could have hoped for. But also, the unexpected. The friend who began as a friend of a friend, but shared her infertility story with me, and just checks in now and again. Or the friend who had a baby and struggles with her health and her daughter's, but wrote to me the other day, to see how I was doing. The women of my infertility group, who can commiserate when a family member says something hurtful, a treatment doesn't work out, or a drug just makes me crazy. What a loving, kind gift each of these women has given me.

But it's bittersweet. Because on the other side are the people who I'd thought would love and support me who haven't even bothered to call, to ask how I'm doing, to even offer general support, regardless of whether we talked about my infertility journey and how painful it's been. It doesn't matter what I do, trying to be a good friend: I know that they will never pick up the phone and say, "wow, what you're going through is really tough. Are you okay?" Forget that: I know they're not even going to pick up the phone at all. When they all had babies and I didn't, they stopped calling.

In the end, I know I am really, really lucky. Because someday, something a lot worse than infertility may hit my life. And I want the right people on my side, who will help me through it, who will help me weather tough times that seem insurmountable.

And I have them.