One of my favorite friends is Erin.
We have a very normal friendship.
We live far apart, but when we call, we pick up where we left off.
We have spent weekends together and gone out for meals.
We talk about our kids and love lives.
We talk about sex, bathroom habits, weight issues, things that annoy us.
We have been drunk together, we have cried on each other's shoulders.
We have done all of those things "normal" girlfriends do.
When it came time to have her children christened, she gave me the honor of naming me Godmother of her oldest son, Jack (not his real name) who is now 14 because I had been involved in his life for so long. Because at one point, I was engaged to Jack's father. And I met his father, when Jack was 8 weeks old.
I'll let that sink in for a minute.
Yes. I was the other woman.
I could go on for hours about how messed up and crazy my relationship with Jack's father was. But it doesn't matter and that is a post for perhaps another time. What I want to talk about today in these days of what seems to be woman versus woman in every catty sense of the phrase, is real strength.
It took a long time for Erin and I to become friends. Obviously and with good reason, she hated me for a very, very long time. She didn't want me around Jack. She didn't want my ex to see me on weekends he had Jack. She made the beginning part of a new relationship very hard and now that so much time has passed, I totally get it.
As time went on, maybe Erin figured that at least on weekends when Jack was with his dad, he was being loved and cared for by someone since he was rather incapable (and that is the last I will say about him). Maybe she finally got over the fact that I was sticking around despite the rocky start. Maybe Jack went home to her and said how much fun he and I had that weekend. Maybe there are a lot of reasons. But whatever happened, she started to like me. And when I finally left Jack's dad, is when I started to love her.
Maybe I stayed in a bad relationship for a bit longer than need be because by then, I loved Jack. We were part of each other's lives and at the time the relationship ended, he was nearing 6 years old. Old enough to know who I was. To ask questions. And more importantly, want truthful answers. But it was Erin, not Jack's father, who gave me the final push to leave when she said "it isn't my business, but if you want out, Jack can stay in your life."
Think about what kind of woman that takes. Think of the complete selflessness it took for her to share her baby that had no blood ties with another woman. To have to share her time with not only Jack's father, but now myself independent from him. Think of the maturity a woman in her early twenties had to show to say "maybe I don't like you. maybe at one point I even hated you. but my son loves you and that has to be enough for me."
It's funny now when we go out in groups and someone always inevitably asks "So. How did you two meet?" and we give each other the "Ok. So this is happening" look and one of us inevitably responds with "How much time do you have?" When we are together, it really isn't something I think about anymore. I think of things that only she and I share. Memories of when Jack was small with a full head of curly blonde hair on his big head. I think of the wisdom she has given me in raising my own baby after she married and had three more. I think of sandwiches and apple picking and watching Jack grow up. We shared tears on his first day of kindergarten and his birthdays that seem to come quicker every year. We share frustration when he gets lazy with school or does or says something that teenage boys say or do that we know are stupid.
So yes. While it's more conventional to have friends that you have known all your life or met in college or work, I'm thankful that I have this one. And while I regret the hurt I may have caused her at the time, I don't regret the friendship I gained from being the other woman.
Until Soon,
Kate
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