The other side of her

So, I have this coworker who I USED to be very close friends with. I will call her Amy. She started working here about nine months before I became pregnant with Brooklyn. I helped her learn her job and was a friend to her when she wasn't fitting into the little clique on her floor. We went out to lunch and ran errands together a lot. We started walking around downtown together during our lunch hour to get some exercise. We hung out at work every day and talked on the phone most days too.

By the time I got pregnant with Brooklyn, Amy was one of my closest friends. She was one of the first people to find out the night I got my BFP. She was so excited with me, she screamed with happiness and talked on and on about how great it was going to be. "Oh my God," she said. "I can't wait. We're going to throw you a baby shower. We'll have so much fun shopping for baby clothes. We'll paint a big smiley face on your belly and take pictures of it. I want to hold the baby and give the baby a bottle. This is going to be so much fun!"

And it was. Amy calmed my first trimester freakout fears. She helped me decorate Brooklyn's nursery. She did co-host my baby shower. She bought us an expensive baby gift, even when I told her not to. I invited her to be one of the 10 people we could bring to my 3D sonogram.

I was there for her too. I babysat her son. My husband went to her son's "Grandfriends" day at school with him because he didn't have an adult besides Amy to be there with him. She was going through a lot of problems with her son's father and a major custody battle ensued. Her son started having behavioral problems. I was her support. She would always call me to cry and vent and yell about her ex, her son, and other things too.

Amy was at the hospital to see Brooklyn within hours of her birth. She came to see her the next day, also. We had to go to my office to fill out some paperwork when Brooklyn was a week old. Amy held her for an hour and wouldn't let anyone else take a turn. But then, my maternity leave had begun, and I stopped hearing from Amy. I think she called me two or three times for the entire twelve weeks that I was off. During those conversations, she would tell me that she was going to come over. But she never did. And I needed her. We were having such a hard time. Brooklyn had feeding and weight gain problems. Then the reflux started. Then the respiratory problems kicked in, and we didn't know what was wrong with her. I was terrified. I needed her. I couldn't understand why Amy wasn't there for me anymore.

It's true that the phone works both ways. But I was in the throes of postpartum depression. I isolated myself. I couldn't reach out to anyone. Amy is actually the only friend that I told about my PPD. But she still wasn't there.

When I came back to work, things were not the same between Amy and I. We talked, but not as often, and it was just different. We went out to lunch occasionally. We didn't see each other outside of work.

Then, at the end of July, Brooklyn became very ill and was hospitalized for several days. I talked to Amy for a few minutes after Brooklyn was admitted. She didn't come visit. She didn't call to check up on Brooklyn.

Amy came to my office the day after Brooklyn got to come home from the hospital. "So," she said, "You never called me. What's going on with the baby?" I was hurt by the fact that she hadn't even checked on us. I said, "She's home. She's getting better. I never heard from you, so...." Amy got mad and said something about the fact that I could have called. I told her that I was busy taking care of a very sick baby. She acted all taken aback and stormed out of my office. A few minutes later, I sent her a message saying that I didn't understand what she was mad about. She sent back a long reply that she wasn't mad, she was disappointed. That she had done so much for us, and she couldn't believe that I could act this way. That she was angry that I hadn't called her to babysit when she had offered to do so. That I had used her. She said that she knew what it was like to have a very sick child, but that the way I was acting was unexcusable. That I had treated her badly, she didn't appreciate it, and she damn sure wasn't going to take it.

I replied back that I had not used her, that I had been there for her too, that I didn't understand where all this was coming from. She never answered me.

Amy has not spoken to me since. In fact, she has refused to even look at me since then. Even when I have brought Brooklyn by the office to visit a couple of times. She has ignored me, turned around, and walked out of the room. I knew that Amy is a bitter person with a lot of hurt. I knew that she had a quick temper and an angry tongue and got into a lot of confrontations. A lot of people we work with don't like her because of that. But before all of this, she had never been that way to me. She had been a good friend to me.

I really don't understand what happened. And I don't know what to do. It still hurts me. I do miss her. I have thought about apologizing, but honestly, I never so much as said a cross word to her. I don't know what I could possibly have done that would warrant an apology. I have thought about going upstairs to her office and telling her I want to talk the whole thing out and make it all okay again. I've thought about asking her to lunch and telling her I want to put this all behind us. But now it's been over five months since we have spoken. And maybe that's just too long. I don't know if I should just leave things the way they are now. I wonder if all of this should tell me that Amy isn't the kind of person I should be friends with. I don't know what to do. Is it over for good? Why is it so hard for me to have and keep any true friends?