Friday Blog Roundup

Although I know there are some men here (fathers in mourning), the fact is that most of the bloggers in this little part of the ether are women. We like to talk. We need to talk. And talk, and talk and talk. It's a form of therapy for us. Reliving, analysing, re-visiting, re-hashing, venting - it's what we do. Sharing the things in our heads - the wonderful and the horrible and everything in between - is how we make it through the tormented days that aren't easy, the ones that sneak up on us when we were sure we were doing so well. And it's how we celebrate the good days, the healing first steps, the leaps and bounds, the joys of new pregnancies or simply the first glimmer of hope and joy since the crushing weight of sorrow descended upon us.

Talking is good. And there's so much of it in the blogs listed to the right it feels cruel to only select a few of the millions of beautiful words to highlight here each week. But the ones that want to be here leap out at me. And I can't resist them.

Like Rachel. She lost her first child to miscarriage at only 10 weeks just three months ago. She is pregnant again, and this week wrote a beautiful post thanking everyone who has stopped by her blog and offered support when she needed it most.

Because that's what we do, isn't it? We rally around each other in a stunning display of support unlike any I think I've ever seen in "real life". Complete strangers brought together by common sorrow, but not so broken that they can't somehow find a way to offer comforting words of help and hope to other mothers and fathers who are struggling with loss and the crippling grief that follows.

And Rachel? Yes, she's very grateful for the support. But why did she start her blog in the first place?

"The day I started this blog, I was feeling really low. I had no idea how many people were in similar situations as me, I just knew I didn't want anyone else to go through this. I wanted to document how I was feeling and my healing process so that others could learn."

So that others could learn. Amazing.

And about that whole venting thing that we need to do sometimes? Here's a good one. Still nursing a very sore foot (a wine bottle accident that shouldn't be funny but kind of is, at least the way she tells it) Aurelia imagines how lovely it would be to give complaining mothers of living children what for...

"Kaz is still gone to camp and I miss him so much I'm practically hysterical. I'm beginning to really resent seeing these women at my school whooping it up because their kids are gone, and they are "free". I keep wanting to smack them and say, 'Hey, 3 of my kids get to visit nature 24/7, they're buried in the ground. How would you like to be THAT free, bitch?'"

It's so deliciously good, this little rant. And so very necessary sometimes, which is why blogs are so very necessary too.

Because the more you talk (write) the more you're able to work through the demons. I don't honestly know if there's enough breath in one's body (or life in one's fingers) to ever actually completely banish the demons and find total peace after the loss of a child, but I do believe that writing about it allows us to give a loud enough voice to the dark thoughts that they won't/can't drown out the sounds of happiness we can still find.

And writing helps us work through things that other people just don't get - and sometimes criticize us for. Like the way other people's pregnancies might make us feel.

The Impatient Patient talked about this earlier this week. Her 43-year old friend found herself pregnant after a few months of trying. She's never experienced infertility or loss and, in fact, doesn't even know how any of this "being pregnant" stuff actually works. Impatient Patient does though. In spades.

So how did this new pregnancy announcement affect her?

"How do I feel about it? Quite deliriously weird…. Like the universe is having another (indirect) dig at me, laughing square in my face. And that’s ok too. Really, it is. MY issues are mine, not anyone else’s."

Awesome. Seriously. I'm so tired of feeling guilty for the way I feel about other people's good news and endlessly punishing myself for feeling that inevitable "why me" sorrow mixed in with the "YAY them" joy. To have someone else say that all those "deliriously weird" feelings are "OK" is, well, excellent. Because it is okay to feel all those weird things you feel when someone passes along their good news when you're been so overburdened with your own bad.

It's normal

Impatient Patient totally gets that.

"Today I had a phone call from a friend of mine. A friend of mine who I used to be really close with but have drifted away from. She’s pregnant. She’s 43. AND you know what? I was ok. I don’t feel the need to do the disclaimer thing anymore as I had *insight* today. (you have to say insight like Lassie’s FlyGuy - you know, in-saht…. k?) Anyway, my in-saht was like a bolt. It’s about me - not anyone else. My problem dealing with pregnancy doesn’t impact my relationships with others as it’s not about them, 100%. I felt so happy for my friend, and kind of bemused as to her lack of knowledge about anything."

And finally, writing lets us ask the question we all want to scream to the heavens a zillion and one times a day. In our blogs we can ask it over and over and over again, never expecting an answer, but grateful to be able to ask it just the same. Any time we want. As many times as we need to. And in all its endless variations.

This week, Melissa asked it.

"Why?"

I don't know. I will never know, I'm sure of it. But I'll keep asking it too. And I'll keep saying "I don't know, but I'm so sorry" to everyone else who asks it.

Because that's what we do.