Of high-school friends and ridiculous delays

Either I am a terrible terrible friend, or this is simply how life happens when your old friends and you no longer have anything in common. I just received a call from a friend studying for her PhD in Vancouver. She is one of the three friends from highschool that I claim to still be in touch with even today. It's another matter that even when we were all in the same city most of our plans to meet and catch up remained just that. Plans. But we did manage to spend time together once in a few months. Back in highschool we were a gang. Now, we are four individuals with four distinct lives that will probably never intersect again. Two of these friends are still in the same city as I, but I can't remember the last time I saw them. Anyway, during the phone conversation with this friend from Vancouver I was told that the news I'd received from her a few months ago of this other common friend's second pregnancy was not actually a hoax as I had thought it to be. Clearly I wasn't expecting a second child this soon after the first one, but that is another matter. The heart of the matter here is the fact that my friend is already seven or eight months into her pregnancy and I wasn't even aware of it until now. I should have taken the news seriously when it was delivered the first time. It is only that I was so well rested in the expectation that I'd hear a news of this proportion directly from the person affected by the pregnancy, you know. I don't know what to do. It's too awkward to call now, and I admit I am a bit lazy to do anything. It would be like disturbing a kind of peace that has been established for months already, if you know what I mean. I hope my friend and her baby in her tummy are keeping in good health.

I wonder, though, why she hasn't shared this news with me or this other clueless friend. And the friend who knew about it all along had only happened to stumble upon it because no one can hide a baby bump. Maybe this is simply something that happens when friends have nothing left in common, no offence intended. But does it mean we no longer care? I have to admit I have all the time in the world at the moment to meet these friends and catch up, and I've had it for a while now. But to my defence, I am limited in other resources to be able to do that as much as I'd like to. But then again, I could have just made a call or two. And I haven't. Does it mean I don't care? Such things make it hard to not realize, though to my distaste, our intentions could be always good but they often never translate to deeds. I, for one, am not motivated enough. And I guess if I can't do anything about it I could at least admit I can't, even if that is all I am ever going to do.