I've come to the realization that amongst other things, becoming a parent can change a friendship. For some, it strengthens the bonds of friendship, making it nearly indestructible. And for others, it leaves it in tatters until no amount of past history can do a thing to repair it.
In my weight-loss journey post a while back, I revealed a bit of info about my pregnancy. That was only the tip of the ice-burg. In order for you to truly understand my post, you're going to need to know more about my pregnancy.
My pregnancy was hands down the most difficult period in my life. There are really no words to describe how depressed I was. Not only did Jasmine come as a complete surprise, but at the time, I had just moved into a new apartment with three roommates and had just begun my junior year of college. James was also living in Charlotte three hours away.
One of my roommates was horrible. She was the typical "college roommate horror story" type that you occasionally look back and reflect upon once you've moved on. She ate what little food I could eat without throwing up. Which at this point wasn't much. She and her boyfriend would invite their friends over almost every night and they would smoke "illegal substances" in the apartment. Not too many people will argue that weed smells disgusting, however, for a pregnant woman, it's about 20 times worse.
Along with a very fragile emotional state, medically, I was falling apart. It was one thing after another. The first trimester, was pure hell. I vomited every. single. day. So much that my doctors grew concerned because I kept losing weight, and couldn't keep a thing down. They eventually had to put me on Zofran, which is a common medication prescribed to cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy. At this point I was going to school everyday; sitting next to students complaining about how tired they were because they had stayed up all night partying.
A few weeks after that, my blood work came back with some troubling results. Apparently my blood platelet levels were abnormally low. Somehow, I had developed something called Idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura. To this day we're still not certain what exactly caused it. The doctors speculated that I was just one of the unlucky 7% of women who randomly develop it during pregnancy. Because there was reason for concern, they prescribed steroids, which I was required to take three times a day, and scheduled me for weekly visits to have my blood drawn and monitored.
Still, I went to class every day. Then went straight to work afterwards. And then I went home to my tiny little apartment and curled up into a ball and cried. Every. Single. Night. I honestly can't recall one night in that apartment when I didn't cry myself to sleep. I was beyond depressed. It was so bad that one of my professors pulled me aside one day to ask if everything was okay.
Now years later, I have to wonder why is it that none of my friends (with the exception of one of my dearest friends) came over to check on me. How did they not notice that I lost almost 14 lbs in two months? These same friends I had comforted as they had gone through their trials. These same friends that I had listed to complain about their relationships, jobs, and life. These same friends that I would have all but walked over hot coals barefoot for. They suddenly seemed to have lost my number.
That apartment became my own little self-imposed prison. I didn't go out an mingle at night. I didn't eat in the cafeteria with friends. I never even had guests over. I went to class, came home. Went straight into my bedroom and closed the door and stayed there until it was time to work. Sometimes I would eat. Most of the time I didn't.
I began driving home frequently to visit my friends and family. Every time I was in town, I would always go out of my way to make sure that I spent time with everyone. I started noticing that suddenly they had things to do and couldn't meet with me. They had homework to catch up on. Or plans with the family. Except I would get on facebook and see that they were at the movies with friends.
By my second trimester, I had moved to Charlotte with James. Things had simmered down a bit, and it finally seemed as though we were through the worst of the storm. Boy were we wrong.
To Be Continued...
Photo cred) Tumbler