Confessions of a Serial Swooper

I recently learned that my matron-of-honor was pregnant when I read about it on Facebook.   And, I was really, really happy for her.  But, I gotta say, reading about it like that before I had heard it from her just hit me like a ton of bricks.

She was my matron-of-honor when I married in 2002 (she is since divorced and happily remarried) but, more importantly she had been my friend (has been my friend) since we were little girls.  She was that friend who, while we never went to the same school and often went long stretches of time without seeing each other, I just always felt was to be counted as my lifetime best friend.  One of those people who, while the day-to-day updates wouldn’t be shared, the big life events would always inspire us to connect.

Unfortunately, the big life events of late (until the pregnancy) have been sad ones.  My mother’s aneurysms, the death of her father and then her uncle.   But, we found each other.  And found comfort.  In each others voices and, when in the same place, each others hugs.

To be fair, she sent me an email sharing her baby news after her very first OB appointment.  Somehow, I missed it.  Never saw the email and, therefore, never replied.  She assumed I was just too busy with my own life and figured that, while I probably meant to write back, I had let it slip through the cracks.

Isn’t that so damn sad?!  On so many levels, it crushes me.

That she thought I didn’t care enough to acknowledge her huge news. News that I knew she had been praying for.  She will be an amazing mother and we had discussed how kids just had to be in her future.  And, would be.  And wouldn’t that be an amazing day?  We couldn’t wait.  And, she married her Knight.  And, then it happened for her.  A baby!  And, she emailed me.  And….nothing.

That she believed it was possible that I would be so wrapped up in my own life not to get in touch. Never.  I just would never, ever be that sh*tty a friend.  Especially to her.  I hate that she thought I might be.

That she may have felt even the littlest twinge of sadness over my sh*tty friend-ness.  In the moment that was to be so exciting…sharing the big news!  And from her supposed long-time friend.  No reply?   No way.  I hope she wasn’t sad.

That the friggin’ Facebook world got to share her happy news before I did. That I never had that insider feeling you get when someone you love shares something before the news can really be out.  Selfish, I know, but true.

Of course, I don’t think for one minute that this whole miscommunication event was that big a deal to her.  I hope that I’m right that she was happily basking in her new marriage, the amazing man she married, the love of her other friends (surely more intimate friends on a day-to-day basis than I am) and the incredible life she was building inside of her.   (Not to mention the distraction of frequent vomiting.)  And my conspicuous absence from this joy was merely an unexpected blip for her.  I truly hope that it didn’t matter for her.

For me.  It matters.

Am I so wrapped up in my life?  Have I become that person that would miss an email or, worse, not even bother to reply?

I used to roll my eyes at technophobes.  Those archaic dinosaurs who say email is so impersonal.  That we should all be picking up the phone more often.  Writing notes.  Visiting each other.  Touching each other in a way that doesn’t involve a keyboard and DSL.

Now?   I just really wonder.    What’s technology doing to my relationships?  I may have 415 Facebook friends but how many of those people actually give a rat’s a** about me?  When push comes to shove, I mean.  Probably ten?  Six, maybe?  Really.  Not many.

And, one of that small collection of real friends?   She’s having a baby and I had no idea.

(sigh)