All of the discussion around Obama's comments on abortion has brought up some still raw feelings about my own experience. I think he was talking out of his ass a bit, as many do who haven't been through it, and I'm disappointed. Others have expressed themselves more articulately than I ever would, so I won't go on at length. I'm just disappointed is all.
I'm a lame blogger, we all know that. I vacillate between wanting to write openly and honestly (and as often as possible, humorously) about every experience, feeling grossed out by my narcissism, and feeling shy and wanting to keep my life entirely private. And these feelings have nothing to do with the actual time I have available to write. I feel guilty when I haven't posted in more than a day or two, and I've thought often about just quitting this blog and taking it down. But, in the end I really only have 2 kinds of readers; friends who know me well and read the blog to keep in touch (and a couple of friends of friends who have that as a connection), and people who search for "multiple omphalocele" or "hydrocephaly" or "2 chamber heart" and "routine 17 week sonogram" in google in some combination and end up here somehow. It happens every couple of months - I'll check the visitor paths and there's the trail. That's really why I leave this blog up even when I haven't posted in weeks. When we found there was something wrong in that first pregnancy, first I searched for specific information about the medical conditions (diagnoses, prognoses, probabilities, etc.), then I searched for any personal accounts from people who'd faced similar circumstances. I was desperate for not just the cold facts, but how people, women, expectant couples had dealt with the situation. I wanted to know if they faced it bravely or if it crushed them. I wanted to know if they told everyone they knew or kept it a secret for years. I needed to know if they'd ever been able to face pregnancy again. I wanted to know the small things about how they talked with their doctors, how they felt about every step of the process, how they felt about themselves through it all. My account of my experience doesn't have all that, but I do hope it offers some perspective. A small consolation for having gone through it.
My heart goes out to those who find their way here that way. Though we've never met, I feel protective of them. I'd like to be able to call them up and offer my support directly. I wish I could help them navigate the road of suck they're on.
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