At least I hope so.
Some are lucky to have a lot; others just a few. But if you've got good ones, you know how lucky you are. I have said this a million times over, but Jordan and I and the kids are so loved and supported by some very special people that I honestly don't know where we'd be today without them.
This post is inspired by the fact that my girlfriend from university hopped on a ferry from the mainland with her baby this week (leaving another child and husband at home) to come take care of us for two days. Because we needed help and she had been literally begging to give it to us since the boys were born. She helped around the house, she lifted my spirits and she INSISTED she clean my bathroom and give me a foot rub. I only let her do one of those things. (I will let you determine which of those is the least gross and that is the one she did). Can I mention that we hadn't physically seen each other in 7 years, separated by first the Atlantic Ocean and now a narrow strait of the Pacific? But that doesn't matter. She's a dear old friend and that's what dear old friends do. She is a particularly good one.
I first truly learned the power of friendship when my mom was in her final weeks of life. When it became apparent that she was not going to come home from the hospital, her network of girlfriends made up a schedule of night time hospital stays. On a rotating basis, one of her friends would spend each night with her so that she was never alone but the family could go home and get some sleep. Unbelievable, yet I am now pretty confident that my friends would do (and in their own way already have done) something of equal significance for me.
Friends came out in spades for us when we had our loss. I was physically and emotionally cared for in a way that I could not process (and still can't to be honest). They appeared from everywhere, dealing with a kind of loss there were no words for, yet somehow they did it. If Hallmark cannot come up with a nice way of saying "I'm sorry you lost a baby in this weird and traumatic way that no one knows how to talk about. I'm wishing you sunshine and rainbows!" then you know it must be awkward. (OMG I just made a joke about our loss. I think this is a first. Almost 3 years later and I've made my first inappropriate joke. Booya!) Ok now you all hate me about making a joke about my deceased baby. For the record I think about her every day. But if you still think I'm a horrible mother, I forgive you if you stop reading here.
Then we had the boys. And then Asher's CP diagnosis. And now my surgery. And it kept being more of the same. People bending over backwards for us to offer support in any way they knew how. Food. Special packages in the mail. Child care. Hugs and shared tears. Words over the internet from people I haven't met in real life. Outstanding, really. I have not only appreciated it more than words can express, but it has also taught me valuable lessons in friendship. No matter how hard and awkward and horrible a situation is - you ALWAYS reach out. ALWAYS. Because saying or doing nothing - while obviously easier - is inexcusable.
Sadly, along with all of these wonderful people in our lives, we have had some real disappointments. When things get hard and sad they're nowhere to be found. And I've tried to not get bitter about it, but that's nearly impossible. I say "nearly" because it's just selfish to be bitter when I have the rest of you.
So to the 99.99% of you in our lives who have amazed us - thank you once again. We hope that it's now our turn for some good luck and we won't be needing your services, other than to of course share in all of the happy moments with us. Please know that if, God forbid, hard times ever fall on you, the T5 will be there for you. That's what good friends do.