Vicarious Living

Photo by:
~Andrea Dowling - Frappier~

What would we do without our girlfriends? Likely be more like those 1940's housewives who seduced the liquor cabinet on a regular basis and made love to Mother's Little Helper every afternoon around 2. After all girls, without each other, wouldn't you need a little afternoon delight on a daily basis?

Two of my very close girlfriends are ready to give birth to their second child.  I've had teary calls, laughs, emails, and loved every second of each one.  

All of my girlfriends know that as each minute passes I become more and more resigned to the fact that I will not have any more children.  My son is cursed to be doted on by a mother of one who always wanted four.  I would tell you to imagine him living at home at 45, having his dinner cooked and bath drawn by mummy, except my girlfriends would never let that happen.  I will usher them into motherhood with reassurances and bad jokes, as they surely will usher me through my mid-life crisis realizing I will not likely have the kind of family I always wanted.  After all, they will be telling me about midnight feedings, dirty diapers and lack of sleep as I head into the nail-biting teenage years. They will be sending these children off to their first full days of school as I wave good-bye to my son entering the annals of higher education ( I hope ). 

All of this long distance through email, telephone calls, hallmark cards that say exactly what we were thinking anyway, and lots and lots of laughter, anger and tears.

Today, smack dab in the middle of a teary gynaecological crisis, one of my best friends emailed me this beautiful photo of her pregnant belly. About four years ago, in the middle of one of my famous diatribes about how-your-man-should-be-treating-you, she stopped me and said, "You know what McFalls. I'm not listening to you this time. I like this guy, and I don't want to end up old and single like you."  I closed my eyes and said a little prayer that "this guy" would treat her well and be "the one".  I imagine you're expecting me to say that, "'cause if he doesn't he's going to have to answer to me", but what really would happen is a long distance trip, lots of wine, tissue, high heels and squealing laughter.....and then months of weepy, giggly follow-up girlfriend crisis calls.

What did I know? He did turn out to be the one.  When he proposed, she called me and said, "Oh. My. Gawd McFalls, he just asked me to marry him."  I said, "Oh. My. Gawd Monroe, what did you say?!" If she would have been within arms length, I would have slapped her when she breathlessly answered, "I didn't say anything I came in here to call you. What should I do?"  Well, I flew to Ottawa in April, and was very proud to be the Maid-of-Questionable-Honour at her wedding. In honour of the nuptuals I sipped a bottle of champagne in the hotel room tub after I slipped out of my Maid-of-Questionable-Honour's dress. After my solitary toast to the new bride and groom I headed out to play the new Olympic spectator sport, girl pool. I couldn't have been happier for her.

"This guy" turned out to be OK as we say in girldom.  She stuck with him (not for want of teary, angry, foul-trucker-mouthed, calls to me late at night about his never ending divorce and child custody issues).  She put up with a lot. I wish I could say that he was blessed with an angel in this friend of mine.  I'm prouder and happier to say that she stood her ground, had her say, and stood up for herself throughout all of this.  I did do a tiny bit of mediating which remains to this day unknown to her.  After all, if I had a little sister, she would be it, and I didn't want her old and single like me.  Besides, between the two of us, as crazy as it sounded, and despite all that we'd been through, we both wished with all of our hearts for another chance at a family.

We share things that we just can't talk about with anyone else.  We understand each other professionally ( where else can you let it all out about working in the funeral business, the agony, the humour, the incredible amount of emotional strength you need some days), we both have single-parented for over a decade, and both know what it's like to live on a budget that would challenge the definition of poverty of any government known to this country.  Pride does not exist in our friendship. Sincerity and love, and sometimes tough love - ok, a lot of the time tough love proliferates in our relationship.

Today as I blotted tears from my eyes with the rough work quality tissues, I got an email from her. Pictures of her big-fat-healthy-baby-belly. My tears changed from ones of self-pity to joy instantly.  Those little hands and the little hands waiting to be born are a result of years of hard work between two people who, despite the circumstances and the odds, love one another. They love each other more than the stress of two sets of children, more than the stress at work, more than the stress of single parenting, of not seeing your children for months on end, of not-yet-officially-ex, and ex-spouses and more than the stress of paying the bills.

That belly, and all of the insecurity, fear, love and anxiety that created it out of love will bond these two families together as one forever. Her only son now has two step brothers and now this baby will weave a blood line thread securing them all as family.

I may mourn my own failure to have a big family of my own, but I rejoice in my friend's success because I love her.  I pray that baby and mom make the tail end of this journey safely, and that the love between husband and wife is strong enough to weather the storms of parenthood....more than the squabbles between the kids, more than the midnight feedings, more than the grapefruit and bubblegum flushed down the toilet, more than the poopy pants and teething, more than paying the bills, more than.........