Tag: friendship

::THESE WOMEN::

There is something so beautiful about the unconditional love that comes from true friends. Not bound to loving you by blood or by law, the love of a friend is something chosen freely, over and over again, through the good and the bad. I think that kind of friendship is rare. I’m blessed to know it and claim it as mine.

I got to spend the weekend with some of my oldest friends, women I have grown up with. We talked and we laughed. We played in the snow, fell into fits of laughter from a ridiculous game of charades, drank good wine and ate good food. Free of the all the responsibilities we carry at home (kids and husbands and jobs and…), we relaxed more deeply than we had in a long time. This weekend we were able to just be. And I was reminded of how insanely important this kind of time is. Not just because we all need a break- we most certainly do- but because drinking deep from the well of true friendship is essential for my soul.

These women, these are people who know me in a way that no one else on earth knows me. Women who have seen me grow and struggle and succeed. They’ve walked with me as I’ve made every decision of my life since I was…14… when I am in a season of struggling to remember who I am at my core, these are the women who can remind me, my compass on a dark night.

I remember moving away from them for the first time. We all went to middle school together and by the time we graduated high school we knew we would be forever friends. I went to college with 3 of my best friends and most of us ended up back in our hometown after college. So, by the time my new husband and I moved to Seattle to start our marriage in an unfamiliar city, I had been living in the same place as at least 3 of these friends for over 10 years. I didn’t know life without them.  I found myself in that rainy, Emerald city…completely lost, unable to find myself in this new life. My friends had been the mirrors reflecting my best self back to me for almost half my life. Without them, I couldn’t see my reflection.

Of course, there was a lot of necessary growth that came from being apart from my people. Being able to hold the mirror up for myself is one of the most important skills I’ve learned as an adult. But, what I also learned in those early years of being a coach’s wife and living away from my people, was how much I deeply needed these women. Our friendship was more than girl talk and fun (mostly boozy) adventures. These friendships were deeply woven into the foundation of my life and who I had become.

These are the women who can read my heart and speak the words for me when I can’t quite form them. These are the women who know exactly what hard questions to ask to help me find clarity when I can’t see through the fog. These are the women who remember small details of my past that I can’t locate- even the ridiculous ones, like how I would always eat tuna sandwiches at lunch in high school. I have no idea why they remember that, but I love that they do. These are the women who hold my hand and sit beside me in silence, when words just don’t feel right. These are the women who bring out the silly, crazy, lighthearted me that struggles to show up most days under the weight of adulthood. These are the women who challenge me to be better, not because they think I’m failing, but because they see the potential in me that I haven’t seen yet.

Our lives are busier than ever these days. We still don’t all live in the same town – in fact, a friend’s upcoming move to Arizona is the reason we moved mountains to make this weekend happen. I wish we could do this more, but I know for certain the last 3 days have filled my cup reminding me once again how insanely grateful I am that God gave me this tribe of strong, beautiful women who love me just as I am.

Sitting at the airport waiting for my delayed flight home, I opened my laptop to start writing because a knew I needed to capture these feelings before they were swept up and lost in the week ahead. I committed to putting my friendships on the top of my priority list. It’s easy to let them slip down to the bottom when things like work and family consume so much of my energy. But I am a better mom, a better wife, a better employee- frankly, a better human- when I connect with to these women. Our friendship is a vital piece of a healthy, happy Nicole.

What are some ways that you find time to connect with your tribe in the midst of your busy life? Share in the comments below!

XO, Nicole

Comparison is the Thief of Joy :: Friendships & Infertility

1 Comment

I have a superpower. I can predict when my friends are pregnant before they tell me. I just have a sense, and no joke, about 2 weeks later, I always get the call. I think God gave me this superpower as a way to protect me and help me be a better friend. See, I get to process ahead of time the idea that my friends are pregnant and I {save for the 9 months that I was} am not and will struggle to get pregnant every time I want to. So, by the time they actually tell me, I can be present for that conversation. I can give them the response they deserve, my joy. I can save the tears for later so they don’t have to be burdened in their time of happiness.  I’m not always great at that part, despite my superpower, but I can certainly respond better than if I hadn’t been predicting it when they told me.

But you know what is really interesting, during that time before they tell me, I often fear that they won’t tell me because they are afraid to upset me, knowing what I am going through.  I have vivid dreams of running into them at the grocery store, their belly clearly pregnant, and despite having spoken recently, they hadn’t told me. It’s almost a worse feeling than that of them being pregnant when I am not.

What would it say about me if the people I love don’t think I can handle hearing their joy in the midst of my pain? I want to be someone who can love my friends exactly where they are at, no matter where I am at.

Because here’s the thing, it always stings. It doesn’t matter if they get pregnant in the thick of my struggle or while I’m pregnant and in the height of joy. I literally was holding my newborn in my arms when I found out a friend was pregnant and even then, even when I had my miracle baby safe in my arms, it stung. Infertility never stops hurting. One of my older friends is 25 years removed from her fertility struggles and she told me it still stings when she hears of people getting pregnant. It’s not logical anymore, but it’s real. The sense of being an outsider, of missing out on one of life’s most anticipated, longed for experiences in its fullness; I don’t think that ever goes away.

It shows up all the time- when hearing a birth story, at a kids birthday party, in a memory of a time we were all together, but I was still not pregnant, in a passing complaint about how hard pregnancy is, or how hard motherhood is, or how “oops she’s pregnant again”.  It will show up on a random Tuesday in the hallway at work when a well meaning colleague presses you about when you’re going to give your son a sibling- time is ticking you know. The sting feels the same whether it’s a stranger or my closest friend. The mom at the park who’s pregnant with her 4th, all the kids are less than 2 year apart and she looks…tired…ya, that hurts too.

It is always going to sting; I have a choice in how I deal with it. It doesn’t feel good to wallow in “Why them? Why not me?” It feels better to celebrate with them. It’s okay to cry about it. It’s okay to feel the sting, to acknowledge the pain and the unfairness of it all. But really, what good does it do me to take away from them the joy that I wish was mine? None. It does me no good. In fact, it only makes things worse.

And the truth of it is, every single one of them has their own pain. Things I wouldn’t wish upon them in a million years. Things I am grateful I haven’t had to walk. Things I’m not sure I would be able to cope with as insanely strong as they have. So feeling jealous, feeling sad, feeling angry…that is normal and has its place, but I could flip that around and they could have felt that way about my joys, too. We all have our stories. They become more bearable, and perhaps more meaningful, when we can walk alongside each other through the good and the bad, the highs and the lows. Being strong when they are weak, letting them be strong for me, when I am weak. I’m lucky to have found friends like that.

Comparison is the thief of joy. The truth of that couldn’t be clearer than when you are walking with infertility. But if I focused on comparing my path to being a mama with everyone else’s, I would miss….everything. I would put distance between us at a time when I need their companionship the most. I would miss out on the depth and richness of friendships that I treasure. I would live my life with everyone at arm’s distance, suspended between the need for connection and the wall of my pain. That’s no way to live. I choose to be present in my relationships. I choose to be vulnerable. I choose to be brave.