I’m not sure if I can continue seeing my best friend. But how to tell her I want us to breakup? The thing is, my friend didn’t just break my heart, she trampled on it, picked up the remains and flushed it down the loo.
We both joined the same company in 2008 and from the word go it was parties, dinners and fun times.
Our friendship grew deeper over the years and we never argued until 2012 when she wanted me to be her alibi. She met a guy online who lived in Paris and planned to tell her husband she was travelling there with me for a ‘girls weekend’. She asked me if I could play along, but I refused. We didn’t speak for two months afterwards. In the meantime, her husband had questioned her solo trip, dug deeper and realised what was going on. They split up for almost a year but came back together.
I had met my now ex, the summer of her Tango in Paris, and we were in love, keen to start a family. My friend, whose husband also wanted to have children, confided in meshewanted none. But, as she was keen to rebuild their relationship, she agreed to stop using contraception. In her mind, she gave it 1% chance as her periods hadn't been regular in the past years. She was pregnant three months later.
We spent a lot of time together during her pregnancy and loved talking about the potential future.
She knew how much my partner and I wanted children. We were trying at the time. One day, when we were entertaining her hotdog food craving, shecasuallymentioned that if she didn’t know how much I was trying for a baby, she may have opted for an abortion behind her husband’s back. But now, she could picture us watching our children play together in our local park. Doing it alone scared the hell out of her. With me, she would be fine.
I can’t remember what I replied with, but recalllooking at her with my mouth hanging below my chin.
Her sonwas bornin 2014 and as soon as she laid her eyes on him, she fell in love. That’s what she told everyone, though, in private,she would say she found it hard to bond. I told her this was normal, something that happened to more mothers than we think.
The first comment regarding my non-mother status happened at that moment: ‘how would you know? You’re not a mum.’
She was right, I thought back then. I wasn’t a mum, though I yearned to be one, itjustwasn’t happening for us.
There were more comments here and there such as,'you are tired?' while pointing to the dark circles around her eyes, or 'the day your entire house smells of one big diaper bin, then you can tell me your hallway stinks of drains.' I never reacted to any of it, until the comment she made after I suggested to babysit her son soshe could attend the Christmas party. My friendwas on maternity leave and her husband was working extra hours.
Her reaction got to me.
'I'm not going to ask you of.’ She actually laughed while saying that. Then she continued, ‘What do you know about children? You're too busy having fun and I totally get that.'
That made me so upset. My partner and Iwere considering IVF at the time. We were sadly told that conceiving naturally would be a challenge. My friend knew that. She also knew about the many times I burst out in tears in the supermarket as I reached the tampons section. I was far from having fun and that's what I told her.
Our friendship became fragile for a while, but she was the one to call me when she found out that my mum was very ill. For a while, I moved into my parent's place to look after my dad as my mum was in hospital. He was too old and weak to take care of himself. We offered for him to come and live with us, but he refused. My mum passed away two months later and my dad followed only one month after.Two weeks after my dad’s funeral, my partner left me.
Losing my parents and the man I adored in such short span of time, hit me very hard, and I spiralled into a deep depression. Our IVF plans never materialised because of the situation with my parents and now, being single and depressed, it didn’t feel as if it would ever happen. I met a fantastic man last year and we are happy together, however, any hope for children went out of the window as soon as I went through early menopause. I was 39. I don't even want to describe the feelings I have gone through since.
Last Saturday, my friend and I were invited to the 50th birthday drinks of a mutual friend. She drank copious amounts of wine that night and I struggled to get her into the cab that would bring us back to North London. I would like to blame the alcohol and the factshe got stressed because we got stuck in traffic on the way back, but I believe shemeant what she told me. According to her, I betrayed her, because I didn't have children as agreed. Now she's stuck with a son, she loves, yes, but he hasn't improved her life. She then said I live the charmed life and can do whatever I want. ' Just look at your fancy photos on Facebook,' she said. 'It's all about living this magical yet artificial life and not giving a f* about what’s important in life. She also thought I never tried hard enough to get pregnant and anyway, I always struck her as 'quite spoiled.'
I will be honest, straight after her speech, I called her a bitch and also said she would regret this the next morning seeing how she drank like a fish. I didn't say goodbye to her when she got out of the cab. The next day, she messaged me. She wanted to make sure it was me who went home with her as the last thing she could remember was us picking up our coats.
So here I am, all alone with my thoughts filled with the nasty words she shared that night as she suffered amnesia from the moment we left the bar. I don't know what to believe and hope this isn't a copout.
I am sorry if this dragged on, I wanted to give a detailed picture. I wonder a few things here. Is it worth it to pursue this friendship knowing what my friend trulythinks of me, things that are not correct at all? Then lastly, has any of you mothers ever felt betrayed because a friend you thought would share motherhood with you, didn't in the end?