Sing a Song of Six Rents

Dear Jane: I had an amazing friend. She was a co-worker and we got each other through some real shit times at work. She is like the sister (honestly, the whole damn family) I never had.

When we moved last July, we kept in touch via e-mail. She is well aware of the fertility problems we have been through and I have always kept her up to date on our treatment. She has been there the whole way pulling for us. Until last September when I got an e-mail from her. She said she had good news: she was pregnant and expecting a little girl in March. I honestly had absolutely nothing but happiness for her. I must say I've been blissfully unfettered by jealousy or anything like that throughout our infertility treatment. And then I didn't hear from her again.

In October, I got a long e-mail: the baby didn't develop well, no kidneys, not enough amniotic fluid, etc. She was induced, delivered after 27 hours and the baby died immediately. They named her and buried her. She e-mailed me about two weeks after it happened and explained it was too hard to talk about on the phone.

So I didn't call. I should have. But I didn't.

And I didn't tell her a thing about what was going on with us. How do you tell the person who just lost their baby about trying to get pregnant? Within a few weeks, our infertility treatments really kicked up. We went through a canceled IUI, a canceled IVF cycle, another IUI, and Clomid to no avail. It is the second hardest thing I have been through after my mother's death. At the time I most needed a good friend, I didn't have anyone to turn to. I didn't tell her anything.

She e-mailed this week (the first time I have heard from her since the bad news) that she is pregnant again. I've sent several e-mails in the meantime with no reply. I'm still very happy for her, but I feel like I've lost the ability to relate. She seems exceptionally wrapped up in herself — mourning the loss, attending support groups, etc. And I understand that. I don't mean to sound self-centered, but at some point I want to ask — what about the shit I'm going through? My dad is dying. I'm moving overseas. And I can't get pregnant for love or money. She really used to care. I don't know how to proceed with our friendship. Is this something we should try and work out, or have we just grown too far apart? I feel like this is the time I should be there for her the most, and yet I almost hear myself asking, "What's in it for me?"

Signed,
Singing the Friendship Blues


Dear Blues:

In Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy admits, "I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle." And while he may think that he is telling Elizabeth the most original thing in the world, I think at the root of it, we're all selfish in practice though few are also selfish in principle. We have good intentions of being thoughtful, caring individuals. And then human nature gets in the way.

Jane would never let pride be the reason to lose the friendship. She'd take a stroll through the garden and discuss Life with a capital "L" and by the end of the walk, both friends would come to an understanding. And we'd all learn a lesson and shut the book.

That's what Jane would do.

But what should you do?

If you take your problem back to its root, you would probably see that it has nothing to do with your infertility or her loss or any of the other factors we could point at to shoulder the blame. At the core is the fact that people are self-absorbed. You feel your own emotions so intensely that you can't believe someone else can't feel them vicariously--even a toned down version. If I were to rate my own emotional pain that I feel about infertility, I would give it a fair 10. It has literally driven me to my knees. So how could you not feel the emotions radiating off of me, even if you only receive the residue of my pain at a paltry 5? Or 3? Or even 1? Pain is still...painful. You would expect the person to feel something.

But maybe pain also has an oily outer coating that pushes away what anyone else is feeling, leaving each and every one of us self-absorbed. I think it is the rare person who is always thoughtful before being told.

I think the success of Rent by Jonathan Larsen is the proof in the pudding. We recognize ourselves in those characters even if we're not bohemians living in Alphabet City. Take a little listen and you'll notice that each of the characters barely acknowledges what anyone else tells them. They just stand on the stage and sing about their own pain (and though it's obviously a theater technique to cheat the body towards the audience, I think it's the perfect stance for these characters because no one actually seems to give a crap about what anyone else is saying).

At the funeral for one of their friends, two former couples get into a graveside fight. Joanne spits out to everyone: "We used to have this fight every night, she'd never admit I existed." Mimi responds without even acknowledging the point Joanne makes except to use it as a jumping board to sing about her own shit: "He was the same way! He was always run away, hit the road, don't commit, you're full of shit!" Beyond the fact that they're so self-absorbed that they're ruining everyone else's attempt at mourning, they're actually a damn good example of our natural tendencies to focus on ourselves and use another person's experience to explore our own thoughts and feelings.

Knowing that, don't take her actions personally...yet. The great philosopher, Maimonides, had a theory about the best way to give that can be co-opted to think about how we dole out attention to others. The lowest rung of his 8-rung ladder is that the person gives begrudgingly and not enough after being asked. So apply this to attention: the lowest way to give attention would be that the person needs to point out to you the fact that you're not listening to them and you partially tune-in and then bring it all back to you, giving a brief nod in their direction to indicate that you listened.

A much higher rung of this attention ladder would be that the person gives more than enough attention before being asked, not only providing a patient ear, but also asking pointed questions to help the speaker come to a better understanding of their own situation. In between are all the shades of grey where most of us exist. I think that all of us are capable of attaining one of the higher rungs with just a bit of effort and humility on our part: once the speaker points out how we're not listening, we need to apologize and start giving them what they need. Even the best mind-readers sometimes need a boost to know exactly what you're expecting at that time.

Mend the friendship by calling or writing your friend and explaining the situation. Start by apologizing for not calling after her loss and explain your reason and how you made that decision. Talk about how you regret that decision now because it may have sent the wrong message to her about how important she is to you or the distance you want from her. Explain not only that you need her now but how you need her now--"I need to be able to talk about our fertility treatments and get that support from you." Give her the space to admit her own needs. She may be so wrapped up in her fears about this pregnancy that she needs to focus inward for self-preservation. Think about whether or not you could live with that. Are you willing to allow her to turn inward and not be there for you during this time and leave the door open for her to return once she feels able to do so (there's no right answer--it's just a matter of drawing your own comfort zone)? Be clear about your needs while still trying to keep it natural--I mean, it's not completely helpful to say that you need a weekly email when you may need constant communication at one point in your cycle and barely any at another point. Instead, point out that need for support--via email, phone calls, visits--and explain that you want to be there for her as well.

After you've put your heart on the line and explained your needs, it's up to her to step onto the ladder and for you to determine which rung you're willing to accept as her upper limit. If she doesn't step up and meet you halfway, you have my full permission to turn your focus away from this friendship. But if she's the sister you never had, she sounds worth an explanation.

Now you (yes, you--I'm talking to you. The one reading this advice column) need to weigh in. Put yourself in Blue's shoes and employ a what would Jane do attitude to give her advice on this situation. Leave a comment for Blue elaborating or contradicting my advice--just do it in a ladylike or gentlemanly way.

The Tangled Web Indeed

Dear Jane,

We've been trying to conceive for a little while now - long enough that some of our friends have conceived, carried, and delivered not one but two consecutive children and are thinking about number three. Mostly, I try not to stomp all over their happiness with my grief.

However, I recently got an email from a friend to say she is moving in with her new boyfriend, and I bet I know what's coming next. A little history: after we started trying, this friend decided she wanted to get married and have kids, but unfortunately her then-boyfriend didn't agree. So she "accidentally" got herself pregnant, and when he left in disgust she had an abortion. A couple of months down the track they got back together and she did it again. This time, after the second abortion, he didn't come back.

Obviously, you have to be pretty fucked up to run your life like that, so I do feel for her. On the other hand, her actions make me kind of ashamed as a woman. I thought we dropped the dishonest manipulation when we got the vote? In any case, it doesn't seem fair that she should be able to fall pregnant with her new boyfriend when we're still trying. So my question is this: when (if) the announcement comes, do I really have to be happy for her?

Signed, How Do My Green Eyes Look To You


Dear Green:

Let's start out with the note you shouldn't send back when the announcement comes:

Congratulations! Looks like the third time is a charm!

Listen, you said it--not I--she is the embodiment of dishonest manipulation. And while Jane would certainly approve of resourcefulness, I think if we left the two of them alone in a room, Jane would kick her ass twelve ways to Sunday for marring the name of womanhood with dishonesty and cruelty. When you read her books, you can just tell that Jane Austen had mad ninja skills when it came to protecting the sisterhood.

That's what Jane would do.

But what should you do?

First and foremost, the worst thing you could do if that announcement comes would be to do nothing. You have to be proactive if you want to save yourself from the highly-uncomfortable "why aren't you happy for me" email or phone call that will come if you linger too long over the decision. Because what are you going to say? "Actually, I'm really not that happy for you because you have no business being a parent with your fucked-up ethics."

Truthful, but not very ladylike. Even Jane bit her tongue from time to time.

I don't know how much your emotions actually have to do with jealousy over her fertility and how much they have to do with your own cognitive dissonance over being friends with someone who is so untrustworthy. There are two pieces of information missing from your letter: why you two are still friends and do you feel comfortable confiding in her about your own situation.

To figure out your own course of action, you need to think about why you still have her in your life. I'm certainly not saying to drop-kick her as a friend. Camus (who perhaps isn't the best philosopher for thoughts on friendship considering his falling out with Sartre) said, "Friendship is not so simple. It is hard to get and takes a long time, but when one has it one cannot get rid of it, one has to face it."

And talk about having to face it--I mean, what's more in your face than a big round baby bump the third time around?

The fact that she is still in your life after everything she has done speaks loudly to the fact that there is probably more history here than you have shared in the letter--either she is part of your circle of friends and therefore comes with the package or she has been a friend for so long that your lives are too deeply entwined to simply cut her off with a simple snip of the garden sheers. I think you need to establish what you are still getting from this friendship before you can chart your own reaction.

If she simply comes as part of the package with a larger collection of friends, I would take her immediately to arm's length. If she's untrustworthy towards her boyfriends, she's probably not someone you feel safe confiding in with highly emotional information. When the announcement comes, offer a terse but pleasant congratulations. Don't ask more questions than necessary to be polite. Beg off baby showers and trips to maternity clothing stores with prior commitments. Send a gift or a response quickly when necessary. It cuts off many of the opportunities for your friend to push the issue about the genuineness of your happiness and it holds her firmly at arm's length.

It gets more complicated if she has somehow overcome the lack of trustworthiness to remain within your inner circle. At that point, this comes down more to you and how you see yourself. A fellow blogger once wrote a long post about why she writes thank you cards even though she never gets them in return for her gifts. She was the type of person who sent thank you cards. And it felt right to send thank you cards. It didn't matter what anyone else said or did in return, she sent them simply because they were part of who she wanted to be. If she is in your inner circle, this begs the question of what sort of friend do you want to be. It makes life a lot easier when you base your own reaction not in their worthiness or what they've done but in the person you want to be.

If you're the type of person who sends onesies the second the announcement comes and plans everyone's baby shower, I think your largest source of discomfort when the situation comes to a head will come from the fact that you are not behaving like yourself. When that happens, you're going to turn the anger onto yourself rather than the woman who has brought out this reaction in you. Screw that! You have enough on your plate to also be angry with yourself at the same time.

Remind yourself how you usually act, grit your teeth, and proceed to lessen the chance of cognitive dissonance. If you're the type of person who sends back a congratulations email and the requisite gifts but rarely becomes more involved in other people's pregnancies, I think you can do your bare minimum and feel good knowing that you remained true to your own vision of yourself. Again, this time, it may take some teeth gritting to be yourself, but if she is part of your inner circle and you don't want to lose the friendship, you need to extend to her the same actions and words you would anyone else in your inner circle.

If she knows everything that you're going through and she still thrusts her pregnancy information upon you, add freakin' insensitive to dishonest and manipulative. Beg off by pointing out your own situation. It's sort of like inviting someone who just lost their hair to chemotherapy to your big make-over party with an expensive stylist. Why the hell are you dragging them through that emotionally?

If at the end of all of this advice you realize that she is someone who can easily be cut from your life, it may be in your own best interests in the sense of self-preservation. I can't imagine that you get as much out of this relationship as she does knowing what you know. You don't need to make a big deal out of the ending of the friendship if she's far enough on your periphery of friends. A lady doesn't burn bridges when she's not forced to light a fire. Slinky slink away and sigh a deep breath of relief that you're not her boyfriend--past, present or future.

Now you (yes, you--I'm talking to you. The one reading this advice column) need to weigh in. Put yourself in Green's shoes and employ a what would Jane do attitude to give her advice on this situation. Leave a comment for Green elaborating or contradicting my advice--just do it in a ladylike or gentlemanly way.

One Smart Mama's Ladder of Friendship

The great philosopher, Maimonides (sometimes also known as Rambam), sussed out a ladder of giving. It looks something like this:

• Lowest Level: after being asked, you give begrudgingly and not enough, making the other person feel like crap.
• Level Two: after being asked, you give less than you should but you do so kindly.
• Level Three: after being asked, you give as much as you can.
• Level Four: you give before being asked, but embarrass the person receiving the gift by making a big fucking deal about it.
• Level Five: the giver doesn't know the receiver, though the receiver knows the giver.
• Level Six: the receiver doesn't know the giver, though the giver knows the receiver.
• Level Seven: neither the giver nor the receiver know each other.
• Highest Level: prevent the need for people to need to ask for help in the future. Teach them how to be self-sufficient in order to build self-esteem.
  

The same idea can be put into play when speaking about our responsibilities in a friendship with one exception. No one is a mind-reader. Therefore, the whole concept of "before being asked" sort of goes out the window. Instead, stating your needs is a requirement. The sign of a good friend is one who either mentally retains your needs or asks what you need the next time you have a problem. So without further ado, the One Smart Mama's Ladder of Friendship:

• Lowest Level: you tell the person many times what you need and she sort of nods at you to appease you and then obviously doesn't pay attention to anything you say and makes the whole conversation about her.
• Level Two: you tell the person many times what you need and she asks you a few questions to show that she's listening, but then goes off on a long tangent about herself before addressing your needs again.
  
• Level Three: though you need to remind her every time you have a problem, she's always able to jump right into being a good listener with a little nudge.
• Level Four: she is there for you, but she always needs to point out everything she's doing in order to be there for you. These are the kinds of people who make you a meal when you're sick, but as they deliver it, they tell you about what a hardship it was to make you the freakin' lasagna.
• Level Five: the friend knows everything about your problems and then acts.
• Level Six: the friend knows only a small corner of your problems, but jumps into action and starts helping immediately--showing up at your doorstep with a comedy and a pint of ice cream before you've gotten to the part in the phone conversation where you start the snifflely, gaspy breaths.
• Level Seven: without needing to say a word, she senses that something is wrong and asks the right questions to get you to open up and talk.
• Level Eight: by being a good friend, she teaches you how to be a good friend--both to her and to others.

Both friends need to simultaneously be climbing the ladder at the same time, with a give-and-take to accommodate both their needs.