Amis de L'Ecole

I felt this issue deserved its own entry, and I would like to get it all out so I can move on. Yesterday after my ultrasound at the hospital, I crossed the street to get some coffee before catching my bus home. While I was in line, I heard "Mamakee? Oh my gosh, hi! How are you?! It's so nice to see you!" I felt the blood drain from my face once I matched the voice to the moving mouth. The girl's name is Chris, and we went to high school together. We got along, she's a nice person. So why did I feel such discomfort? Chris is close with a couple other girls I knew in school, girls who broke my heart when I needed them most. Let's go back a few years.

Before I was born, my mom and dad became friends with their coworkers, who had a baby girl the year after my parents had me. By proxy, the girl and I became best friends before we were out of diapers.

Over the years, TP (fitting name as I rate her among something that goes in the toilet) and I remained close despite whatever distance there may be between us. We went to different elementary schools, had different friends. However, come summer, we were together every possible moment, riding bikes, singing to Mariah, and playing with TP's adorable little sister.

When I was in seventh grade I went to a high school orientation, where I met quiet and shy Ginger. We had a couple of the same classes together the next year, and slowly we became close friends.

A couple years later, TP's mother decided they needed a move, and after much pleading, they landed in my neighborhood, and my best friend transferred to my school. I was over the moon! Inevitably, I introduced my two favorite girls, and we became our own little circle.

Gradually, though I held fast to denial, I started to get the feeling that I was being phased out. My best friend, who I had supported and adored and helped for so many years, was not there for me when I needed her most. I was in the middle of family drama, eventually breaking free to stay with a friend, while also losing my father to cancer. She didn't see the anguish I dealt with daily, or chose to ignore it, I'll never know. When I left school to take the long trip to a home I didn't want to live in, TP and Ginger would go the opposite way, giggling in their carefree teenage worlds, making plans in which I wasn't involved.

It was an unbearable existence, made even worse by the lack of support from my two best friends. I realize now that they weren't my best friends, but at the time I was desperate to hold on to them, and jealous of the closeness they shared.

During my graduating year, the two girls replaced me with someone in TP's class, a girl named Chris. She and I didn't form a bond despite our mutual friends, but we did get along. During the winter Chris' grandparents offered up their cabin on the island for a weekend stay. It was such a blast! Just the four of us, (plus some local boys) hanging out all weekend with no distraction. We partied, got absolutely wasted, and shared secrets. Sounds cheesy, but it really lifted my spirits.

After Montana was born, the friendships dwindled even further, which is natural when one person has children and the others are single and childless. I didn't push it, but I still made an effort to keep in touch. We went out occasionally, and they would come by for birthdays and coffee.

The weekend of Montana's second birthday, I called TP to see if she had gotten the invitation in the mail, and was surprised to hear that she hadn't. We talked on the phone for two hours--heaven in my world. She said she wasn't sure if she could make it to the party, but would come by to visit soon after. That was the last time I talked to her.

The first months afterward I tried to contact TP, to no avail. Phone calls went unanswered, birthday cards and letters went unread. I asked Ginger if she'd heard from her, and if she knew why I hadn't been able to get a hold of her. She refused to get involved, shrugged off my concerns and questions. I know some people don't like to be in the middle, but I was rather hurt by her unwillingness to at least try for me. I had introduced them, after all, and I got the feeling that she was more than happy that I was out of the picture.

I tried to keep my friendship with Ginger in tact, but it grew increasingly difficult over the years. I knew she was still close with TP, and I admit my jealousy had a hand in my drifting away from her. I quit asking after my old friend, so as not to put a strain on an already suffering relationship.

Last year Ginger got married. I knew of the engagement, and had decided that the fate of our friendship rested on whether or not I was invited. Not surprisingly, I heard nothing from her. I was hurt even more than I thought possible at this point in time, and that pain grew into a tumor-like entity when I saw pictures online of the wedding, of the bridesmaids--Chris and of course, TP.

True to my word, I deleted her from my friends list, and deleted her email address. Why was I still friends with someone who was obviously so disgusted with me? For that matter, why was I ever friends with either of these childish creatures? I will never know. Ginger has not tried to contact me, which is neither a surprise nor a disappointment.

While I don't entirely regret the relationship I had with TP for those two decades, I wish the pain would cease. I wish I knew why she decided to so callously let me go without reason. Most of all, I wish I knew what was so unbearable about me that my parents, foster parents, and best friends couldn't stand the sight of me.

I realize that so many years later I have wonderfully caring friends, a great family, and a much better outlook on life, but this is a pain that isn't easily covered up, no matter how long it has been. Seven years or seven lifetimes, I still have a wound so gaping that only an explanation from TP herself could heal it. Our friendship could never be revived, but my heart still wishes for closure.

And as for Chris? Well, she just can't wait to tell TP and Ginger that she saw me.

Mars

Wow, I haven't been here in weeks! I'm sorry, self, that I haven't written in so long. So what is new?

I did not conceive mid-January like I'd hoped, which was hard to deal with, and not at all surprising. I went to see my doctor at the beginning of February, but Dr. J. was away on vacation, so I saw her replacement, a young, understanding woman. I brought up my issues, and told her I suspected PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome). She came up with a list of tests for me to undergo, both blood and ultrasound. I finally got in for my ultrasound yesterday, so now I will just need to wait a few more days for my results, and go from there.

I also saw a surgeon in January, who assessed my cyst and decided I could have it removed. I was beside myself with relief and gratitude. Eleven days ago, after seven long years, I finally had this eyesore cut out of my scalp. It was a strange sensation; half my head was frozen. The doctor put in five or six stitches, and they are being removed tomorrow. It will take a while to heal, but I am a happy gal.

I'm not sure if I have ever talked about Tristan's kitty in previous blogs, so I will have to give her a name: Tabby. Not original, but this was her temporary name while she was in the shelter. She is about a year and a half old now, and we recently discovered that she is pregnant! Who is the father, you ask? Kitteh, of course. Despite our best efforts, there was a rendezvous between the babies, neither of whom is fixed because of little kitty illnesses, and we estimate she is eight weeks pregnant, due sometime in April. Of course, this is just a guess based on her last heat cycle and when Kitteh was rather amorous, so she could be due sooner or later. We are ready for the kittens either way. One week from today is Kitteh's first birthday.

During the same week as my doctor's appointment last month, Montana came down with a nasty cold. I suspected strep throat, and took her with me to my appointment. The doctor took a swab of her throat because she couldn't see anything, and sent her for x-rays to rule out pneumonia. That was Montana's first time being x-rayed, so she was pretty nervous. I didn't get a call, so she seemed to have neither illness. She and I took the week off so she could rest, and she had a fever almost the entire time.

There has been some good news and bad news for DW recently, both involving ex-girlfriends and children.

The good news is, thanks to someone's online sleuthing, we have the email address and home address of DW's ex-girlfriend Korn. When we lived in Alberta, the two of them met and started dating shortly before our move back home, and Korn decided to come with us. A few weeks after Montana was born, Korn announced her own pregnancy. She then made a similar decision, and moved home to have the baby. We kept in touch with her, and had a few visits with her and the baby, a girl, named Jupiter. The last time I saw her was when I took Montana out there for the disastrous visit with her father, when she was almost five and Jupiter was two weeks away from her fourth birthday. Soon after, Korn met someone online, and moved to New Jersey to be with him, leaving all contact we had with her behind in Alberta. It has been more than four years since we have heard anything. DW has been heartsick ever since, so finding her is a ray of hope for him. He is thinking about what to do, discussing it with a lawyer, and will hopefully figure out a way to contact his daughter, who is now eight years old and in grade three.

The bad news is, Ink seems to be into drugs again. I don't know all the details, but DW is stressed out knowing that she is being reckless when Lil Kub is in her care, and has reported her to the social worker again. I don't know what has come of that yet, if anything, but I will be calling to find out.

I'm sure there has been more going on, but I can't think of anything else worth mentioning, so I will update when I can!