Friendship – The ‘Present’ of Christmas ‘Presence’

Bec Davidson - 7 Dec 18

For AJ x

We met under Hong Kong’s fiery red sun, and complained of the simmering, relentless humid heat. We nostalgically remembered the autumns in London, and  missed the seasons crisp clean air. But our homesickness was bearable, we had each other.

We partied hard, against the backdrop of neon lights that erased the city’s stars.  We hobbled on cobbled streets in sky -scraper heels, and surrendered to the endless Hong Kong nights. She would hold my hair as the cheap champagne left my body, and made me laugh in the throes of my legendary hangovers.

We bonded over the changing landscape of our lives; geographically and emotionally the lay of our new tropical habitat felt alien. We reminisced about the London morning commutes, nostalgically remembering the underground’s smell of charred soot as we travelled beneath the Thames.  Over iced coffee we discussed our frustration at leaving successful careers, because we’d followed (not without a fight) our overly ambitious husbands to a distant foreign land. 

Fate meant that we both needed fertility treatment, another deeper level of friendship blossomed and continued to bloom when we had positive pregnancy tests, just days apart.  Difficult pregnancies followed. And we laughed, as now we were up peeing all night; no longer did we drink the moonlight that reflected in our champagne bubbles. We didn’t miss our endless nights, instead we became familiar with each others little baby bumps.  It was AJ who first felt my baby kicking me, you never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a faded memory. 

We spent our babies first tropical christmas together.  It was pure magic as their utterly adorable, cherub baby faces basked in the glow of the christmas spirit. 

January blues hit me like the seasonal typhoons that battered my new home.  I was in the grip of my familiar shadow – postnatal depression. My depressive shadow become bigger and eclipsed me, nightmares now made my nights seem endless.  AJ came round on a bleak, black humid January day, she was also down, but I just didn’t have the capacity to talk to her about it. I can never forgive myself for that, she needed me and I wasn’t there. 

We argued as the rain pelted loudly against my window, words were said, that can never be unsaid.  Rage and anger flowed through me. I asked her to leave and slammed the door on our friendship. My baby screamed, I sobbed and my breasts wept.

As we grow older it becomes harder to find true friends doesn’t it?  We’ve perhaps all experienced that painful coffee you have with another mum that you have zero in common with.  True mum friends are like rare diamonds, precious and irreplaceable.

Yes, I was angry for a long time, but I realised my anger stemmed from sadness.  She was leaving me and going to a new Country. It was easier to feel rage than the epic sadness that crept through my veins. Hong Kong was less colourful without her and my postnatal depression grew darker with each passing day.

Years passed, our boys were five, and we met for a steamy hot coffee in London’s bitter February frost.  The landscape of my marriage was changing in my old yet new home, and I was fearful, trying to carve out the part of me before marriage and children. Tentatively, we began to establish our new, yet old familiar friendship. This time we stood under the pale english winter sun, and I sobbed, apologising for being a thoughtless bitch when she needed me the most. Being the amazing friend she always has been, she understood the vice grip that postnatal depression had on me, she forgave me. 

‘Sorry’ really is the hardest word to say at times;  but if you’ve fallen out with a precious friend, pick up the phone and talk to that friend you love and miss.  It really will be the best christmas gift; to be ‘present’ for a diamond friend you may have lost.

Bec Davidson

Mum to Zachary; Idealist; belief in humanity; Graduate in Psychology; trainee Psychotherapist (specialising in woman's mental health), aspiring freelance writer with a passion in understanding what modern feminism means for mothers, and finally....... a Prosecco opener extraordinaire!

View profile for posts, events and more info