Being a Friend

Warning: This story contains themes of pregnancy and infertility.

Being a good friend means loving that person unconditionally. Loving someone unconditionally means celebrating, supporting, and uplifting them even when it hurts.

The hardest part for me was the beginning. Blake and I had been trying and praying for a baby since the day we got married, almost three years earlier. I woke up with a gut feeling that the test would look different that morning, I just knew it. I was late and suffered through a week of cramping, nausea, soreness, and emotional imbalances. I had waited four days past my expected start date to test, dreading another negative, but this morning I wasn’t scared to test. I just knew something had changed.

I rolled up and out of my bed more cautiously than necessary. I slipped on my pink slippers and shuffled out of my room and into the hallway. My too-clean bathroom with the organized vanity drawers of ovulation strips, pregnancy tests, and prenatals felt more hopeful that morning. I felt excitement rather than dread.

My hands had the slightest tremble as I opened the pink plastic wrapper of the test. The packet of instructions fell out onto the floor, but I paid them no mind. I was used to this by now. I looked at the red dye test for a few moments before going to take it. Is this it? I thought to myself. Is this the time?

I was smiling as I took the test, a subtle, excited curve on the corners of my mouth. I was so certain. I placed the cap back on the end without looking and lay the test face down on the sink. Then I stared at the back of it and waited.

One, Two, Three….

I counted the seconds up to the minutes, and then started over, four times instead of three, for good measure. My stomach flipped over and over as I took the test in my hands. I took a deep breath, staring at myself in the mirror. I watched myself blow out my breath slowly while I flipped over the test in my hands, reflection still shaking.

I looked down.

I blinked, hard.

I closed my eyes, and looked again, bringing the test up close to face and searching for the missing second line.

I squeezed my eyes closed, forcing away the hot tears flooding my eyes. One, miserable sob escaped my throat as I threw the test into the sink and sank against the sink into the floor, burying my face into my knees.

I stayed like that for a long time, I don’t know how long. I finally moved when my phone rang. I was numb as I walked back into my bedroom and grabbed my phone. It was Olivia, and I was thankful. I needed my best friend.

“Hello?”

“Mollie!” Olivia was too cheerful as always. I love that about her. “When are you coming over?”

Oh, that’s right. Lunch.

“I-” I begin but pause. I just can't talk about it right now. “I’m running late this morning; can I get there around 11:30?”

“Fine by me!” She chirps. “Hurry, I’ve got a surprise!”

It was a perfect, sunny day. Traffic was low and my favorite songs played on shuffle on my way to Olivia’s. I remember pulling into the driveway with a sense of dread. Bringing bad news into a nice day felt selfish.

Olivia met me on the porch. She grabbed me and hugged me before I even spoke. “I can't wait any longer!” She squealed, placing something into my hands and squeezing them shut. The object in my hand felt far too familiar.

My heart sunk into my belly like an anchor. I forced my eyes from her excited face to my hands. The little blue test was an electric one. No scanning for red lines is needed. The screen read pregnant, clear.

I think about that day often, more than I should. Even now, surrounded by pink tablecloths and sparkly balloons and white ribbons, celebrating my favorite person’s new favorite person. The cake is strawberry. Not because Olivia likes strawberry, on the contrary actually, simply because everything had to be pink. And she was right, it's gorgeous. Everything is so pretty. Of course, Olivia has always had an eye for pretty things.

I’m sure she had everything pictured in her mind when she thought about this day. I tried to help, but all I could picture were the 7 pregnancy tests I’ve held in my hands since I’ve held her positiveness. I did however help with buying things she needed, building a registry, picking out names, and countless other things. All the information was already in my head. What are the best bottle brands? Here, take these I already have. What feeding schedule should I use? I'll send you the one in my notes. I can't decide what to name her, Mollie! Obviously sending her my baby's name list I’ve had for years was a mistake. At least without crossing off my top pick first. I stare at it now on the banner on the wall. Marley Grace.

Blake nudges me out of my thoughts. “She's opening your present, Mollie.”

I look up just in time to see Olivia and her boyfriend of 10 months looking at the small items from my gift beg. Pacifiers, Bottles, Bibs. My chest squeezes when she pulls out the final item.

Olivia goes silent as she pulls out a delicate, white blanket, trimmed with lace and embroidered with pink lettering, spelling out her daughter's name. It took hours to make. I had a lot of extra time two years ago.

My eyes get hot at the same rate Olivia does. She looks up at me and gets out of her seat to hug me tightly. “Thank you, Mollie. We love you.”

“I love you,” I reply, barely above a whisper.

She takes my hands in hers. “Would you say something? For me?” She nods her head left, towards the group of her friends and family.

I freeze in place. “I don’t think…” I glance at the photographer in the corner, probably video ready.

“Please?” She enthusiastically pleads. She pulls my hands onto her round stomach. “I want to show her how much her auntie Mollie loves her one day.”

I look to the group, to a tense-looking Blake, and back to her. What can I say?

I stared at the crowd and told the biggest lie of my life. “I couldn’t be happier for Olivia.”

My voice wavers, so I clear my throat and continue. “Olivia has been my best friend since I was no bigger than little Marley. Our mamas used to say we had no choice but to be best friends.” Olivia laughs, and a smile makes its way onto my face. “I love her dearly.” I smile at her and pause. “And I will love her baby just as much.”

Tears threaten to escape, but I squeeze them closed as I hug Olivia again. She kisses my cheek. Before letting go, leaving me to finally sit back down. Blake was ready with a tissue and his arm around my chair. He already knew what to do. I hear his phone as a text message is sent.

A few more minutes. Just hold it together for a few more minutes.

Blake’s phone rings.

“I better get this. "He pats my leg and goes outside to answer it.

I look at Olivia and try to hide the guilt I feel. She doesn’t look at me. She is holding a tiny onesie against her bump. I feel sick.

Blake sticks his head inside, and waves for me. I start to grab my bag and stop myself. No, you’re not supposed to know you’re leaving yet. I walk to the door and lean in. Blake whispers to me, not the lie we thought up, but something that makes it harder not to cry.

“I love you, babe. You’re handling this so well, I’m proud of you.”

I can't look at him. I turn and walk too fast to grab our things. Olivia sees me and frowns.

“Are you leaving?” She tries to stand.

I can't remember our lie at the moment. “I'll explain later, love you.”

And with that, I’m out the door and Blake shuts it behind me. I don’t look at him, or the truck, or anything else. I just walk.

Later that night, wrapped up in my sheets with Blake’s arm draped over me, I think about what excuse to Olivia. I search my thoughts over and over, but I can't seem to find an answer good enough to justify my behavior. I feel so selfish. Finally, I let tears fall. Silent, calm tears without sobs or big breaths. Just a soft, sorrowful cry, soothing me enough to lull me to sleep. Just before I drift off, Blake pulls me tighter to him and whispers into my ear.

“You’re a good friend.”