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The original was posted on /r/AmItheAsshole by /u/Alarming_Bowl6982 on 2023-09-04 23:38:36.

I (37F) am at the end of my life expectancy. It’s entirely possible I could live longer because of taking good care of myself, but the average is late 30s. My mother had the same condition I do and died at age 22 from childbirth. I decided to never have children to avoid passing my disease on (50% chance) or leaving children behind for someone else to raise, potentially knowing they ended their own mother’s life, which was honestly a really crappy way to grow up.

I joined a support group online ten years ago, and in that time, while we have gained new members, we’ve lost a number to age, and a number of women to pregnancy and childbirth complications.

One of my closest friends Margie (26F) has decided to have a baby with her husband. My platonic partner/caretaker of 15 years (Jim 41M) and I live an hour away, and while her husband has been working as much overtime as he can to earn extra time off, Jim has been the one driving her to her appointments and bringing me to spend time with her so she hasn’t been alone as much. My one and only rule is I don’t want to know specifics about her pregnancy-related medical issues because of personal trauma. She is entitled to make her own decisions about her life, I’m entitled to my feelings, and I don’t want to know so I can reign in my feelings and be respectful. She has a medical folder with updates about her current condition in the event of an emergency. Jim and I aren’t being paid for our time, gas, etc. It’s all volunteer.

However, as her pregnancy has progressed and things have started to get worse, she keeps trying to slip things in. On Friday she brought it up again, I asked if she needed us to call 911 and her husband. She said no, and I lost my temper and told her, “Then stop bringing it up. I have one rule and you keep trying to break it. Unless you need medical attention, can we please talk about something else?”

She cried silently for nearly an hour even after I apologized and then told Jim and I to not bother showing up for Labor Day when we left, which left her husband confused because she wouldn’t tell him what happened. I gave him the number for my therapist who specializes in palliative care patients because I know she needs support, and I feel bad for hurting her feelings. But I don’t want to be her therapist as she faces the reality of her decision. I don’t want her dumping her health on me, not while I’m dealing with mine. AITA?