Opportunities

I got an email from my best friend in grad school tonight. She left with a Masters degree and took a wonderful, lucrative, challenging job in the exact location she wanted. Paradise – all wrapped up with a marriage, house, cat and dog. I’m thrilled for her – jealous even. She was always so happy with life – pleased to be learning something new in lab when I was exhausted and irritable to still be at the hospital at 11PM; content to be in flip-flops while I was whining over the heat and humidity; fine with working over holidays when I escaped school for the comforts of home. If anyone deserves incredible things, it’s M.

I remember curling up on the corner of my bed in my studio apartment, wrapping my arms around a pillow and lying my head down. She was tucked into the corner of my loveseat – the only piece of furniture that would fit in my tiny apartment, save the bed and desk. She was thinking about changing research groups – altering her plan, as I had done, in order to stay for a PhD. So we talked about her original goals – finish grad school at 24, marry that same year, work and save money for a few years, do some traveling, buy a house, then start a family at 27. Staying for a doctoral degree would push that plan back by 3 years.

I stayed, while she left. We’ve done a decent job of staying in touch – the stress of our lives at the university brought us really close in a short amount of time. I think she knows me extraordinarily well. I’ve sobbed in front of her, positive that everyone in the department knew that I was struggling with classes and research and humiliated that there were witnesses to my defeat. When I wouldn’t answer the phone, drawing deeply into myself in times of stress, she’d come and ring the buzzer of my apartment, refusing to be ignored. In turn, I’d listen when she needed to vent, providing sympathy and solutions as the situation warranted. We did homework together, attended labs, went out for dinner, walked home in the snow, talked about life, played tic-tac-toe in seminars to pass the time, giggled, wrote email and supported each other. That bond survives, untouched by distance or lack of contact. I quite simply adore her, and consider myself to be beyond lucky that we’re friends.

She’s always loved to travel though – going to Japan with her mother, Italy and Greece for class trips, all over America with her husband, and was planning a trip to Thailand before the tsunami. When she was getting ready to take the perfect job, and in the midst of planning the perfect wedding, she confessed her fears. Too many doors were closing – all the jobs she could have done were disappearing in the face of the one she’d accept, and likely keep forever. All the wonderful men – smart, sexy, funny, talented guys in the world – the ones she’d met and the ones she’d only heard about – she was about to forsake as she married her true love. In a world where choices are endless, cutting yourself off from all the paths, even when embarking on the best one, is scary.

I couldn’t have done it – I wasn’t sure enough of who I was and what I wanted to make those big decisions. I’m still not ready. But she was – she has a strong sense of self and had carefully decided that she had the right guy (and she was right – I’ve never met a more well-matched couple) and was going to take this job. She’s been happy for the most part. There have been a few hiccups that have troubled her, but nothing has made her question graduating and continuing on with her plan.

I remember sitting up from my nest of pillows, and perching on the side of my bed. In that tiny apartment about 3 years ago, I told her that marriage and work weren’t so scary. She could still travel, switch jobs, move around – there were tons of adventures yet to be had, challenges that would test her. This wasn’t the end – she could walk this path for awhile and if it was too flat or not scenic enough, she and her husband could cut across and find another trail that was more appealing. So she adjusted to the thought of her new life, made her choices and headed off down her little road.

But I’m almost 27, and she isn’t far behind me. For me, it’s not a big deal – I’m approaching 30, but until I get there, I’m not going to worry overly much about a husband, my career or my reproductive ability. I’m giving myself some time to languish on this short path that takes me to a whole different set of possibilities. There’s comfort in knowing I still have big decisions left to make – there’s nothing out there that’s off-limits, and though I know I won’t take advantage of all the opportunities offered me, the ability to do so is exciting.

M, however, is contemplating children. She mentioned it once in an email, and I was impressed by her composure. Her plan stated that it was time, so she was thinking about it. How immature I am, I thought – I’d be freaking the hell out. But then I got the email tonight – M wants to travel, live in another country, take a break from her job for awhile, spend some of this money they’ve been saving. She’s looking around at all the beautiful things she’s built, and, I think, feeling a little claustrophobic. Adding children, as I see it, is the final step in closing off your choices. You officially stop coming first – baby’s schedule must be accommodated, her needs met, education saved for. She needs attention to develop her little synapses so she’s smart and capable later on. She needs to be challenged so she develops character, but praised so she gains confidence. Loving someone so much, placing their needs and wants far above your own, is the most profoundly beautiful thing I can think of.

But it absolutely terrifies me. I like children, and absolutely adore the little one in our family. Having one of my own though? No – I need to figure out what I want from life, get my career in order rather than messing around trying to figure things out, need to find someone to love, get that relationship all settled, start saving money, see all those places I haven’t visited but that aren’t really appropriate for babies or toddlers, take lots more naps, sleep in on many more weekends… Those little guys are worth the sacrifice, but thinking of how much of your familiar life that will irrevocably change for some abstract baby-like concept can be intimidating.

M will do the right thing in her own time, but my guess is that she’ll get pregnant right on schedule. She’ll be a brilliant mother too, just as she is fantastic at her job and lovely as a wife. She was a source of endless support and love for me in grad school and remained steady and calm in situations that caused me extreme stress. She thinks about life and God in a profound, yet simple way. She and her husband have so much to give to a child, and she’s realizing that. I respect her immeasurably for being thoughtful though – it’s not a stage of life that should be rushed. Her deliberate decision will be the source of tremendous joy for her family, and as I shy away from taking the plunge myself, I can’t help but envy her a little more. So I’m going to start looking around for the best baby gift ever, and continue to send email that tells her she’s going to be fine. How could someone so incredible be anything but?