I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time, but I still don’t know where to start. I suppose the only place really is at the beginning.
In the beginning, there was us. We were great friends, close friends. We saw each other regularly, we had known each other since school, we went on day trips together and we had fun together. Our group was a tight knit group. You had your partners, I had mine, it was a good dynamic. We laughed long and loudly, and we supported each other through life’s struggles.
And then I had a baby and everything changed.
You stopped coming round. You didn’t celebrate her birth with me. You didn’t offer your support when she and I were ill together in those dark, early days. Your contact with me got more and more sparse until it ended altogether.
And yes, I know I could have done more too. I could have picked up the phone, I could have texted. But honestly, for the first couple of months I was hanging on by a thread. My life was a confusion of battling reflux and my own mental health. I felt very isolated, and everything was very difficult. I needed you, and your support, and I didn’t think that was something I had to ask for.
I understand too that you very likely had absolutely no idea what I was going through, and that you thought that giving my husband and I space to be a family was the best idea. And I understand that I could have reached out and told you how I was feeling, but I was ashamed and scared.
After the first few months, things got a little better, and I did try to repair things with you. I told you how I felt, and we tried a little meet up, and we both promised to keep in contact. But it wasn’t the same, and I think you felt it too. We dropped out of each other’s lives again.
And honestly, it does make me sad. I miss you. I miss the fun we had, and I miss hanging out with you. I don’t blame you for the way things have turned out, I know I could have done more too. But I’m left in a weird kind of limbo; we didn’t have a fall out, we just drifted apart. And now my timehop and my photo albums and my school books are full of memories of you and it makes me sad to know that things will never be the same again.
I want you to know I haven’t changed. My life has changed, yes, but I am still the same person. I still like to play CoD, and I still like to go swimming at Woodhead, and I still like to rearrange the spice jars in Asda so they spell out mild swear words. It’s just that now I do these things with an awesome sidekick.
It upsets me that my daughter won’t get to know you, and vice versa. Guys, she’s the coolest. She’s like a mini me but more awesome. She rocks purple sparkly sunglasses in a way I never could. She likes music and being around people just like I do.
I’m not asking or expecting that you’ll read this and get in touch. There’s too much water under the bridge, and it would probably be very awkward. Of course I’d love it if we could get our friendship back, but I’m not expecting it.
I also want you to know that if you start a family, I will be here for you and I will give you all the support you need. I know how hard it is and I wouldn’t want you to feel isolated and overwhelmed. I’d be delighted to share parenting advice and tips with you, and see if your baby gets your nose or your eyes. If you need me, I’m here. My husband is much less forgiving than I, but then you know that. He’s still hurt by it all.
And now I’ve got it all out, I don’t know how to end it. I suppose all I can finish with is I love you, I miss you, I’m sorry, and I hope you’re doing ok.