I was re-reading a blog today, the blog of a dear woman who struggled horrifically with infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss. I found her blog a few years back and this is the second time I've gone and read it from the beginning. She has an amazingly witty writing style, and says some of the funniest things I have ever read on a blog, even though her story is one of the saddest I have ever read (and I have quite the long IF blogroll). She's endearing and honest. She's British, and I happen to adore the accent and phrases used by the Brits. Not to mention that while reading them I have a strong likelihood of thinking in a British accent.
I loved reading her blog. And then something really terrible happened. Something she couldn't truly talk about. For a few months, she talked about it, while not really talking about it. I didn't mind, glad she was still writing at all, glad that maybe her many readers could bring her some small measure of comfort, ever hopeful for the day when things would start to turn around.
And then, about six months ago. She stopped writing, full stop (see, I use British phrases when I've been reading her). No announcement that she would be stopping, no farewell. Just radio silence.
And of course, that's her right. Perhaps it all got to painful to put into words. Perhaps the pressure of not sharing was too much. Perhaps she started a new blog, for more anonymity. She did not use her real name. I tried poking around the blogs of a few of her followers, but didn't have any luck finding comments from her, in the hopes of finding a new blog of hers to follow for updates. I tweeted her, but there was no response and no activity on her profile in as many months.
I've thought of her many times since her blog when dark. Obviously, I don't know her personally, I doubt she'd even remember any of my comments on her blog specifically. She has oodles of readers and I doubt I ever said anything of note on her posts. I did nominate her for a blog award once, and she commented back thanking me, telling me that my answers were interesting and sweet. I guess I'm not sure why I can't let go, not knowing what became of her. It was a terribly dark time for her at the end, and it was preceded by several really dark years, really unfair.
I guess I probably have a whole slew of blogs on my reader that haven't been updated. Some said goodbyes, some merely drifted away, but none has affected me as much as this one blog. I like to think that she'll pop back in someday with an update, but the truth is, she very well may have closed that chapter of her life. And I couldn't blame her for that. But I'll always wonder.
So I guess I'll just continue sending my best wishes to her, out into the void, and hope that someday her life will be as full of light and good humor and all the good things that she deserves. May, this humble blogger really misses you.
4 comments:
That's so tough...there's a blog I follow where the woman got pregnant with twins, and then stopped posting. I never knew why, and I often wonder if the twins are still with her - did she lose them or has she had them by now? I'm not even sure, it feels like it's been so long. But we become so intimate through our words with our readers that it's tough when they stop posting - you worry, and wonder. It's like an old friend just suddenly disappears one day ... you can't help but wonder.
That's it exactly Rach. I don't think I'll ever stop wondering what happened to her. There is a very different kind of bond among bloggers, I think. We share things on our blogs, it's raw and honest, and somehow we REALLY know a blogger, even though we don't really know them. It's like a book that is missing the final chapter.
That's happened to me a ton. Probably 50-75% of the blogs I read 2-4 years ago are abandoned. I miss those ladies. Some did say goodbye but many disappeared. I have emailed a few of them to find out how they are but it's still hard to wonder. I wonder sometimes if they think of me.
I have experienced this as well. I feel like I know some of the bloggers I follow better than people in my real life. We get so invested in their lives, their stories, their successes and heartbreaks. It's hard to lose them when they go.
Aly, mevsinfertility@wordpress.com
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