Hey Everyone! Train Wreck Over Here! *Waves*

20 Jun

Ok boys and girls, it’s been a long time since I’ve put up a good rant on this blog. I figure it’s very much overdue.

But first, a disclaimer. I’m about to talk about things people in this community don’t like to admit – maybe not even to themselves – let alone in writing. Before I do, I want to make one thing very clear: I love and appreciate every single person who has ever emailed, commented, or even just quietly lurked on this blog. I know there are upwards of 700 of you out there, and I count this space as one of the most wonderful things I have done in my life, because of you.

Also, I would not have survived these last four months after losing Nadav without you. So please keep that in mind before you skewer me in the comments.

Ready? Ranty time!

WordPress’ site stat page has this handy little feature that shows you the number of views on your busiest day. Mine is 4,630 on February 22nd of this year.

That was the day my son died.  And yes, he died. He was a stillbirth. He was not a “late term miscarriage”. He was my son. I gave birth to him, I did not miscarry him. I went through labor and delivery like every other mother out there.

Unless this blog goes viral due to an incredibly brilliant post I pull out of my ass one day, I have a feeling that this little site stat will be sticking around for a very long time. So if by any chance I happen to miraculously forget that date, all I have to do is to go to that stats page.

I used to check my stats every day. Just a curiosity, and I admit, a little for my own ego. I don’t check them that often any more because of this little reminder.

During the period of Feb. 21st – 24th, I had upwards of 15,000 visits to this blog. A lot of those hits were concerned readers, or followers of my friends’ blogs who came over to offer support.

But let’s face it – a lot of them were the equivalent of rubber-neckers to a car accident.

Look, we all do this. We don’t admit to it, but we do. When we read somewhere that some blogger we’ve never heard of has suffered a tragedy, we click over. Yes, to offer support, but also out of morbid curiosity. Just for the opportunity to think to ourselves: “Thank goodness that isn’t me. Please don’t let it be me one day.”

I’ve done it. Heck, I still do. Granted, I’m pretty close to getting as low as you can go in this community. But there’s always someone with a bigger tragedy. One we think we understand but we don’t. One person that we look at with pity, and hope against hope that we will never have to walk a mile in their shoes.

I’m not trying to measure pain by any means. We play the hand that we are dealt, and each person has their own difficulties. I thought I understood pain just with PCOS. Then with PCOS and one miscarriage. Then with PCOS, two miscarriages, and a mental breakdown. Then with PCOS, a mental breakdown and three miscarriages. I thought I understood pain at three miscarriages, a stillbirth, and two mental breakdowns. Then I started crawling closer and closer to Nadav’s due date (cruelly exactly 4 months to the day after he died), while having to face another failed cycle.

A new low. A new threshold for pain. A new form of agony that I didn’t anticipate.

I’m telling you this not because I want you to pity me. In fact, if you feel pity for me, please leave now. I feel sorry enough for myself. I don’t need others feeling sorry for me. That does me no good. In fact, I rather you flame me and hate me and you not pity me.

I tell you all of this to point out that pain isn’t comparable or measurable. But there are certain forms of pain that attract rubber-neckers. There are cautionary tales that make others say “thank goodness it’s not me.”

I am one of those cautionary tales. And those 15,000 + hits during those four days in February are proof positive of this fact.

I remember being pregnant with Nadav, being a rubber-necker. I could never bring myself to comment on the blogs that I lurked on as a rubber-necker. Because I was painfully aware of being one. Sometimes I would chime in with an “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Or some other empty sentiment.

Yes, I was sorry for “her” loss. I felt sorry for “her.” I said to myself “please don’t let this be me.” I said to myself “thank goodness this isn’t me.” I don’t do that any more. Not even with train wrecks that are bigger than mine.

I’m sure every single one of you (or at least most of you) who haven’t been in my shoes have thought these things while reading my words. I’m not angry with you. I don’t want you to feel guilty for feeling this way. It’s only natural. I was there. I also hope you never have to be in my shoes. I wouldn’t wish this agony on my worst enemy.

I also know that most of you, even ones that initially came here as rubber-neckers, are no longer that. I know every word you write to me, even the occasional “I’m sorry for your loss” when you can’t find better words to say is a genuine virtual hug. I love you guys for it.

But here’s the kicker. Though I know there are HUNDREDS of you guys out there that are supportive, amazing, loving people, there always are a few rubber-neckers in disguise. There are always those few that write lovely comforting words, but their pity and their hypocrisy shine through their well-wishes. Under every word they say I can read that “thank goodness this isn’t me” undertone. I can read the pity. It’s hard to catch sometimes, but after two years on this train, I can spot these people.

And that pity hurts. That undertone of “oh lord don’t let me be this woman” hurts. It hurts more than silence. More than hate. It hurts more than the asshole who came on this blog three days after Nadav died and called me a murderer for some unknown reason (yes that happened and I deleted the fuck-face’s comment immediately).

Why does it hurt so much?

Because I am not a weak person. I am not a person who is to be pitied. Be on my level – heck – envy me- but by pitying me you make me feel small. Like my entire world is defined by my loss.

I am not small.

I am a strong, smart, talented, funny woman.

I have an amazingly strong marriage with a really hot, funny, talented, and brilliant man.

I have a wonderful loving family (hi sissy! Hi sissy-in-law!).

I have absolutely unbelievable friends both in real life and in my virtual life.

I am loved and I love ferociously in return.

I paint. I write. I think about movies I want to make, and sometimes even take pride in ones I’ve already made.

I rock out to awesome music.

I work really hard at my job and all of my clients respect what I do and pay me a nice salary to work for them.

I’m an amazing cook.

My dog is the smartest, cutest dog in the world.

I dye my hair awesome colors.

I teach twice a week and my students freaking love me.

There is nothing to pity here. If it weren’t for my effed-up plumbing, my life would read like an unbelievable fairy tale.

I know this and I am learning to be grateful for it every day. By pitying me, you are helping me ignore the good parts of my life. You are enabling my self-pity, rather than encouraging my growth.

Don’t cry for me. Cry WITH me.

Don’t feel sorry for me. Feel empowered by my experience.

As some of you amazing ladies have written in your comments on my heavier posts: Abide with me. Endure with me without yielding.

That is what gives me strength, and I hope it strengthens you as well. This is the essence of the best of our little online community. This is what we should all strive for.

In my final goodbye post to Nadav, I posted the song “Twinkle” by Tori Amos. This was not a random choice.

I want to call your attention to a particular section of the lyrics:

But I can see that star
When she twinkles
And she twinkles

Emphasis mine.

Those lyrics for me are about triumph. About overcoming loss. About growing from loss. That is what I am doing, and it’s what I intend to continue to do.

I sometimes dread going out because of the sideways pity glance I get sometimes from people who know my story. In life, I compensate for that by making jokes and blatantly and openly talking about my losses. I may as well wear a T-Shirt that says “Please! Ask me about my uterus!”.

Like Chandler from Friends, I use humor as a defense mechanism.

I do the same thing here. Here I compensate by using funny pictures with funny captions. It’s my little F-YOU to anybody who dares to question my strength.

Because for me, pitying me means questioning my strength.

Dammit I am fucking strong.

Deal with it.

Two days from now is Nadav’s due date. I will not be acknowledging it on this blog. Nadav was born. He was born 4 months too early, but he was born. And he died. June 22nd is not his. February 22nd is his, and always will be.

I have had an enlightening couple of weeks. I haven’t shared most of that insight yet on this blog, because I’ve been processing it all. I think I’ll use that date to tell you guys a little about the way I have grown by leaps and bounds in the last couple of weeks. About the revelations I have had and that I am processing. Or maybe I’ll need a few more days to process it and I’ll post a freaking lolcat. Who knows.

Either way, I hope you stick around to read about it.

To abide with me.

But if you intend to feel sorry for me, please do me a favor and go feel sorry for another train wreck.

Cause this train may be bruised and battered, but this train keeps on fucking chugging.

123 Responses to “Hey Everyone! Train Wreck Over Here! *Waves*”

  1. delenn25 June 20, 2012 at 01:41 #

    OMG I love this post. Love it. I often worry when I come from LFCA if the person thinks I am a rubber necker. Thing is, I usually try to comment on blogs I already know–or if it is someone I feel needs the support I go. And then I continue to follow them to make sure they are okay…because I do worry that they get all this support at the time, but then lose that support because everyone just goes “back to normal”. Well, the person dealing with the loss is not “fine” right after or a few weeks after or months after, etc. And so I follow and comfort. And sometimes I stay for even longer because I like the blog/person.

    I have been reading your blog for a long while (before your loss); but I don’t always comment. Perhaps we should do better at the comment thing…perhaps people need to weigh their words.

    Thank you for being so honest.


    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 01:44 #

      Thank you for being here. Loud or silent, I know you are here, and I treasure and appreciate you for it.

  2. SRB June 20, 2012 at 01:49 #

    You remind me of someone – you know this. I hold you so fiercely, so tightly in my heart because of it. Because you will never lie down. You will never give up. You inspire me to be a better woman ever day. You are my symbol of strength and unconditional love with surrender. Always.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 01:50 #

      Thank you, dear dear friend.

  3. Kristin June 20, 2012 at 01:52 #

    My friend, while I am sorry for your loss and always will be, you AMAZE me. You’ve held your shit together when I don’t think I could have strung two coherent words together. You continue to laugh and love and grow. You are kicking ass and I can’t wait to see where you go with your life and I can not wait to celebrate with you when you have happy news.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 02:04 #

      Kristin, seeing as you are an inspiration and the kind of mother I hope to be one day, I can’t begin to describe how much every word you say here means to me. But I’ll keep on trying.

  4. Trisha June 20, 2012 at 01:55 #

    This post is great. Seriously. To a smaller extent I had the same thing happen, my hits and comments skyrocketed during my miscarriage. Now they are lower then they were before…I don’t blog for the hits or comments but it is a little frustrating. Like people come out of the woodwork to watch the car wreck but as soon as the ambulance pulls away its “nothing more to see here”. I sincerely hope I have never come off that way to anyone. But your right, the whole thing is “taboo” to talk about.

    As for you Mo…no pity here. I just happen to adore you and your humor. Even if it is a defense mechanism.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 02:02 #

      Thanks Trisha, the adoration is mutual! ❤

    • Stinky Weaselteats June 20, 2012 at 11:55 #

      This ^^ (and what Mrs Brightside said down below too) – I got most hits when blogging through IVF (but maybe I blogged more regularly? Dunno) and then it dropped off bigtime (then i moved and it dropped to zero!)

      I came over when the callout went up for you. I was aware of your blog, I think through the chocobuddy thing, and had flicked through but not figured out following wordpress blogs from blogger, being a complete noob. Also I was at some weird points and didn’t want to add on preggy bloggers (nowt personal, just my headspace at the time) to start reading.

      But I’m aware I did the same with Lori at RRASHM, when her husband died, and I saw the call. I stuck round there too, because I loved the way she wrote too (although no LOLcats there, conversations with self nor stick-pissing frenzies) to be honest, its the content that makes me stay . . . following the initial link is only part of it.

      But I read this post, about your stats and that reminder of the date that Nadav was born and I just though ‘ouch’. What a hell of a reminder.

      Never really thought about it in terms of rubberneckers, just saw it as heading over to drop some thoughts and let someone know they were being heard and thought of.

      • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:00 #

        You know that I somehow missed your blog move completely? I still have your old URL in my reader. WEIRD.
        I do think it’s legit to pop in and show some love. I just feel like it’s insincere to “hit and run”. At the end of the day, these women live on despite the hardship. And it’s that which deserves acknowledging most of all.
        PS – I did the same exact thing with Lori. And I feel terrible that I didn’t stick around. I think I’ll check in on her. 🙂

  5. Izzy June 20, 2012 at 02:01 #

    This post is amazing. You are amazing. Your strength never seizes to amaze me. Chug on sista!

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 02:06 #

      Thanks izzy 🙂

  6. cw June 20, 2012 at 02:19 #

    yowsers, right now I feel like going and finishing really thick wood and karate punching right through it then shaking it Bruce Lee style. I am all pumped up on Mo juice. But seriously, some times I feel like I am annoying you, as a reminder of your due date since we were so close but I can’t walk away because I don’t want you to ever for one moment think I have forgotten you and that you ever think that I might think thank fuck that wasn’t me. Every time I read one of your posts I am reminded how god damn lucky I am and whenever I feel like having a bitching moment I realize I need to shut the hell up and just be fucking grateful for life. You are amazing and sure you might do a Chandler and use humor as a defense mechanism, but look what happened to him, he got the girl and two babies even with all the infertility stuff. He also fluctuated in weight a lot and used prediction drugs to mask hissing if anything chandler should have been the chick because if Monica was truly infertile there is no way she would have stayed that skinny,

    I just think you are wonderful, it is refreshing to read these posts that are true, open, honest and raw. Telling it like it is. Not hiding and masking your pain.

    I am not a rubber necker you are stuck with me on this fucked up journey for life.

  7. cw June 20, 2012 at 02:20 #

    * as usual iPad changes my words, that would be finding. Mofo.

  8. cw June 20, 2012 at 02:21 #

    Ok seriously prediction drugs? Prescription!! Hissing I can’t even think what I did write. I am going back to a PC.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 02:26 #

      Chon, I mother effing love u, typos and all. Oh, and that chandler theory is one for the ages. I’m stealing that!

  9. Theresa June 20, 2012 at 02:26 #

    I have most definitely left “I’m sorry for your loss” comments (though I can’t recall if I did for you) – because I have no idea what else to say. I have always admired your strength, courage and will to keep trying no matter what happens. Keep on blogging and I’ll keep on reading!

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 02:30 #

      Thanks Theresa!
      I think there’s nothing bad about I’m sorry for your loss if that sentiment is truly sincere. And I know that it is- coming from you.

  10. Maria June 20, 2012 at 02:54 #

    I must admit that I came as a rubber necker as our paths hadn’t crossed before but I am still here. I love your writing and while I very much wish that I would have come to you for a much different reason, I am excited to see you continue to exude strength as you continue your journey. ❤

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 02:56 #

      Thanks Maria!

  11. Karin June 20, 2012 at 03:05 #

    I think you might just be the strongest person I know… Or at least virtually know.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:01 #

      Thank you, that is an amazing thing to read.

  12. Amy June 20, 2012 at 03:17 #

    Go girl! I hate the pity thing, too. My blog officially has 39 “followers” and may e a half dozen commenters – not necessarily from the former group, but my stats show hundreds of hits every week. Some I know are family and friends, but not as many as there are hits. I’m not a fan of lurkers. And God, every day at work I feel the pity. I can’t believe it’s been 10 months already and I’m still not pregnant…my co-workers probably can’t, either. Sometimes I wish I was knocked up just so they could focus on something else.

    Back to actively reading, commenting and supporting…jus as you do for me!


    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:02 #

      I think it’s the pity that really gets me the most.
      Yes, we lost a lot. Sometimes we dwell in our losses. But there’s more to us than that.

  13. Daryl June 20, 2012 at 03:19 #

    I. Effing. Love. This. Post.

    You are amazing. And I love you. That is all.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:02 #

      Feeling is mutual!

  14. Jenn June 20, 2012 at 03:31 #

    I’m a pretty new reader to your blog. But I love your strength and your sense of humor. Ever since I lost my twins I try to reach out and support fellow loss moms, especially those who had a later second tri loss like I have.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:03 #

      Thanks Jenn. I see your comments and I appreciate every single one. I wish I could do the same for you.

  15. Nisha T. June 20, 2012 at 03:44 #

    I have been and continue to be amazed by you and your strength. I honestly have no idea how you do it. This post reveals what is kind of an ugly truth (and don’t we all do it), but yah, I hear you.

    I love your list of wonderful things in your life. Most would be lucky to have a list like that.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:03 #

      Love you!

  16. Angel June 20, 2012 at 03:53 #

    Mo, delurking long enough to tell you that you awe me. Always.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:03 #

      Wow, thanks Angel!

  17. Lisa @ hapahopes June 20, 2012 at 04:13 #

    I was a lurker, and then Nadav forced me out in the open. You are amazing. You really truly are. I find myself posting “sorry for your loss” comments because I don’t know what else to say when I really am heart broken for all of these women. But the first thing that wants to come from my fingers is “sending love and light.” I couldn’t steal the Mo-ism! You have the best sentiments. 🙂

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:04 #

      Thank you Lisa. You are such a huge source of support and I appreciate you so much!
      Feel free to rip off that phrase any time.

  18. Courtney June 20, 2012 at 04:21 #

    I lurked for so, so long because you were so funny and witty. I commented a few times, but not much because I just wasn’t comfortable. Then Nadav passed away and I couldn’t sit silent anymore because your posts had always cheered me up and made me laugh, and I wanted to return the support. Not once did I pity you or say, “I’m so glad that’s not my story.” And reading this post of yours, I’ve realized that I don’t think that of anyone’s stories. I just think, “she needs some love and support.” I’ll always throw support and love your way – whether you need it at the time or not! But I will never pity you. I don’t pity strong women 😉

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:05 #

      Thanks Courtney! For your honesty, your support, and for being awesome in general!

  19. mrs. brightside June 20, 2012 at 05:00 #

    There’s certainly some bloggies out there who’s style I don’t agree with or don’t quite have a way with words, but it’s natural that people are going to offer more support, when more support is needed. I loyally follow every post of those on my blog roll, but often on my phone where comments tend to get eaten. But when the shit is going down, that’s when you gotta do everything you can to add your voice, to try to help in the teeniest way. I don’t lurk on LFCA, but if a bloggie says “please go support her,” I try to. Yes, there’s curiosity, but almost more of “could this be me?” than “thank god this isn’t me.” And trust me, I would kill for a simple “I’m so sorry for your loss” sometimes when the other options are silence or some terrible fix-it or god’s way bullshit. You maybe don’t know them or their situation well enough to know what else to say, but at least it says that their pain is witnessed, it is known, and in some way will be carried forward in the hearts of those that read it, even if not revisited. The words of kindness and support on these blogs means so much to me, because you don’t hear them enough in real life where your average joe just can’t stand to stare pain in the face. Our blog broads are veterans, warriors, and aren’t going to be scared away by a tragedy. Sadness, compassion, support, and yes “i’m sorry” but I don’t see that as pity or belittling.

    Okay, now realizing that I’m sounding defensive! I guess I’m just hoping to help you maybe see these “stats” another way, that might bring you more comfort than pain. I certainly don’t see you as weak, I see a person that has been through more than the universe should rain down on anyone, like many others in this space, who is giving an honest voice to her experience. And is pretty damn loved while she’s doing it.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:08 #

      I think you make some really good points. I don’t necessarily think it’s wrong to go and offer one-off support.
      I think I just don’t like it when that support comes from the wrong place. Does that make any sense?
      I think intention is the important thing to take away from this. Support for supporting’s sake. Stick around if you can. And always strive to abide rather than pity.

      • marwil June 20, 2012 at 15:09 #

        Thank you Mo for clarifying a few things, I have to admit I didn’t really get it first but now I think I understand a little bit more of what you want to point out. after like reading your post three times. I don’t see it as pitying someone at all to go over and say ‘sorry for your loss’ even if it is just on-off. Sometimes I stay and sometimes I don’t and that all depends on where I am at the moment. It’s really tricky but I love the LFCA where support is pointed in the direction it is needed. I just wish it wasn’t needed anywhere, you know.

      • mrs. brightside June 21, 2012 at 04:17 #

        You know, as I thought more about this last night, I think I get better what you’re saying, and yes, it does make sense. I mean, it did before too! But my memory was jogged finally, and I GOT IT. I ended up on LFCA once (twice?) and I recall now that a lot of the randoms that chimed in that day and never again had an impersonal cursory to feel to them, almost like they’ve been cruising too many blogs, leaving their calling card, but not really reading or understanding, or speaking from the heart. I’m just glad I’ve never gotten a nasty or judgmental one – always from anonymous! – those f-ing blow my mind that someone would be so ugly in such a vulnerable space. Their ass would get deleted FO SHO. {hug to ya, lady}

  20. Justine June 20, 2012 at 05:32 #

    I wanted to say something similar to Mrs. Brightside. I think that part of LFCA, and other bloggers who post news from the blogging community, is galvanizing support for someone who needs it. And I don’t think that most of those clicks come from pity or from rubberneckers … I have never felt like “thank god that’s not me,” because we are all living in our personal shitstorms … we wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. When I leave a comment on a blog that I don’t frequent, it’s never a throwaway. I always mean it. And I suspect that most of us do. You’d have to be pretty shallow to NOT mean it. What *is* sort of sad to me is that not every blogger gets the same kind of support. That those who are better “connected” get “more.” That it has nothing to do with the kind of loss, or the context of loss, but about your previous blog stats, and the company you keep.

    That said, I also think that you’re awesome. Which is why I continue to read.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:09 #

      Good point Justine!
      I honestly wish every woman felt as “held up” as I did after losing Nadav. I think that’s why it’s so important to comment with sincerity and intention.

  21. Coco June 20, 2012 at 05:39 #

    I mainly stalk and lurk. I’d read every once in a while before Nadav. But when the tragedy struck, it hit me very hard. I had recently both had a miracle baby and lost my father to cancer, after taking care of him in my home. So my emotions were raw and all over the place… I think that I sort of adopted your pain, in the most unhealthy way possible. I sobbed for you, but I was BLOWN AWAY by your strength. That is what kept me coming back. I came to see the tragedy, so I would have someone else to grieve for cause it gets boring crying for yourself all the time. But I stayed because of your fierce heart… because I felt strengthened by you. I almost never comment, because I’ve “made it to the other side” of IF, and don’t want to push myself back into this community where my presence may equal pain for someone else. But I wanted to respond to this post and say that, even if someone is lurking because they have pity… they are still being strengthened by you, perhaps against their will… perhaps thinking something like “Damn, I hope that never happens to me, BUT if it does then I hope to hell that I am as strong as this woman!”

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:11 #

      Thank you for this Coco. Just… Thanks.

  22. jjiraffe June 20, 2012 at 05:55 #

    Mo, WOW. Great post about something I’ve worried about: seeming insincere while offering support. I use the word “abide” because I learned a lot from the incredible Lori at Write Mind Open Heart.

    It is true that an unfathomable tragedy will often cause traffic, either on the web or the road. I’ve been with you from almost the beginning, but I think a lot of readers who came after Nadav stuck around because of your graceful, courageous, funny and honest writing. I’ll stick with you no matter what. xoxoxo

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:12 #

      Thanks hon! I honestly think that when it comes to you, you are always beyond sincere and supportive in amazing ways. I love you for it.

  23. St. Elsewhere June 20, 2012 at 07:38 #

    a) I have felt pain and horror at someone else’s tragedy in the bloggyland, but I have never felt the ‘thank God, it’s not me.’

    b) There is an attraction in tragedy which is not there in eh-TTC, eh-my pregnancy, eh-my life.

    c) The moment I reported my miracle baby’s loss to the time I bolted to a new space, my blog ‘followership’ actually doubled. My hits went through the roof…I gathered the highest comments thus far then. My writing skills hadn’t improved overnight, but number of people stopped by, referred to by other blogs/LFCA and all. Point is, not everyone followed through later….as months passed, the heat had subsided. Only the regulars remained, and that is more comfortable for me. I am not sure how many of my then readers would come under the bracket of rubber-neckers, but yeah, the interest does finally settle down.

    It was a brave post to write..one statement wrong and you would commit a big bloggy faux pas.

    I know that I do not comment often on your blog, but I am around. And yes, I love that word – abide.

    I am doing that. 🙂

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:12 #

      You know it’s funny that I came to you as a rubber necker. I admit. But I’m glad to say that I stuck around and found an inspiration on the way.

  24. Esperanza June 20, 2012 at 08:12 #

    This post is incredible. But everyone has already said that, so you probably know. You know, it’s interesting, I have definitely rubber necked before on people’s blogs, I mean when you’re sent somewhere to “show support” you can’t be doing much more than rubber necking. And you give your go-to line because what else is there to say? You don’t know the person and you do feel horrible for their loss. There really just isn’t much else to do.

    I have read you for a long time, since well before you lost your son. And you have never ceased to amaze me: your strength, your wit, your humor and above all your honesty have made a lasting impression on me. I hold myself to a higher standard because of you, in both the amount I’m compelled to share and the support I’m compelled to give. You have taught me more than most people I know. I have never once pitied you. I have cried with you, I have cursed with you, I have laughed with you and I have abided with you, but I have never once hoped that I would never be you. How could I hope not to be one of the women I most admire in the world?

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:14 #

      Wow. Thank you.
      If you don’t know how much I love you to pieces this is a good opportunity for me to say it again.
      You are an amazing friend.

  25. EmHart June 20, 2012 at 09:44 #

    Hi Mo, I just wanted to let you know why I follow your blog. I was one of the many who found you after another blog suggested you needed support. I did not stay a reader out of pity, I stayed a reader out or respect for your writing and out of awe for your strength. The posts you wrote about what Nadav taught you were some of the most beautifully written that I have come across during my time in the blogging world. They were empowering and heartwarming and they drew me too you. I have now discovered a whole different side to you, I love your lol-cats, they are guaranteed to brighten the darkest day. I read one of your conversations with yourself out to my husband and you had us in stitches. I don’t always comment that much, but that is more because I don’t really feel I know you yet, or that you know me. I see streams of other comments and my banalities seem pointless. I am going to make a concerted effort to let you know I was here, and not just to gawp. I want you to know that your writing inspires me, and that is why I am here.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:14 #

      Wow. Thank you.

  26. nobabyruth June 20, 2012 at 11:10 #

    I wanted to comment now, because, honestly, who could read this post and NOT comment? Certainly not a lurker like me. I’ve followed your journey for some time but I don’t think I’ve commented very often. I don’t remember for certain if I commented on your early posts after Nadav passed away, but I would imagine I did and I likely said something along the lines of, I’m so sorry for your loss. I meant every single one of those 6 words.

    But you are right. You are so right. About so much of what you say. We do rubber neck, be it in real life or in the blogging world. No, wait, I should own it and change that sentence to first person singular. I rubberneck. I know I do it and I know it’s not the best thing in the world to do. You’ve reminded me of that. I think that I’ve found it hard to jump into someone’s life at the worst, hardest moment. But that’s no excuse. In real life if I encountered someone going through something difficult would I listen to her story and walk away? No. So I will not do that in the blog world either.

    On another note, I truly enjoy your writing. And the lolcats. Especially them.

    • Mo June 20, 2012 at 12:15 #

      Thanks for your comment. And hi!
      I didn’t know you were here, and I’m glad to know it now. 🙂

  27. Lex June 20, 2012 at 13:18 #

    I’m not sure if I ever have commented, at least recently. I’m mostly a silent reader of blogs. I originally came through a link, within days of what happened to Nadav. I had three miscarriages before this pregnancy (halfway there now) and your words and strength have helped me, especially in the series about what you learned. Our stories are similar up until this point and while I obviously hope I won’t lose my baby, too, your words are a reminder that even if my biggest fear comes to pass, yes, I will grieve, but I hope I will be strong and survive it even half as well as you have.
    Your writing is beautiful and inspires me and that’s why I keep checking in. Also because I am rooting for you and want to know the rest of your story as it unfolds. I want to see your happy ending 🙂

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:39 #

      Thanks Lex, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you on my comment thread, and you’re a welcome addition! I hope against all hope that you make it through the second half of your pregnancy uscathed, with a gorgeous baby to boot.

  28. RelaxedNoMore June 20, 2012 at 13:25 #

    You’re right: pity sucks. But so are Mrs. Brightside and Justine (to name just a few who’ve commented along the same lines): support and sympathy rock. I also feel, that in this community, the desire to offer support and sympathy by far outweighs rubbernecking and feeling pity.
    When coming across a “Please send your love” post, I usually click over and try to leave a comment sending my love and acknowleding that person’s pain – even if it’s only a “I am sorry for your loss” because I’m at a lack of better words. Sometimes I start following that blog, sometimes I do not. It mostly depends on the place I myself am in at that moment, and whether that person’s blog speaks to me.
    I may be wrong in retrospect, but not once have I felt or thought “Thank god that’s not me”. Rather, it’s been more along the lines of “That could be me, too” (or, rarely, a “I’ve been there, it’s not fair she has to be there, too”). Is that better? I don’t know.

    As for you: not once have I pitied you. I’ve felt sorry for the heaps of s.hit life has piled on you, to that I admit. But you, I’ve always admired you. For your strength and your way of dealing with those piles of s.hit; and your ability to reach out to others and offer them your support and sympathy even when you were down yourself. For your ability to wallow when wallowing was what you needed; and gathering your strength and fighting on when it was time to stop wallowing. And your writing (I wish I had a way with words like you do), your way of throwing humor at the face of adversity like a gauntlet.

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:40 #

      Thanks hon. I don’t think “I’m sorry for your loss” is wrong per se. I just feel like for some people its an empty sentiment. I have never ever thought that way about any of your comments.

  29. Sunny June 20, 2012 at 13:28 #

    Mo, I think you’re amazing!!!!

  30. Mina @ Fertility Doll June 20, 2012 at 14:54 #

    I’m a newbie to the IF WordPress circle but damn lady yours is one of my favourite blogs. I even check it when i haven’t spotted a Mo post in my feed.

    Your humour – defence mechanism or not – really does help me through my journey too. You’re raw with your emotions and I can really appreciate that. You say it how it is.

    After reading your list, I smiled because that’s how I imagine you – like colourful bouncing balls of energy. ❤

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:42 #

      Thanks Mina, that’s a huge compliment. “Colourful bouncing balls of energy.” I think I’ll strive for that in my day to day. 🙂

  31. robin June 20, 2012 at 16:05 #

    When someone in the ALI is going through something terrible, people show their support via commenting and/or posting links on their blog so that others (even strangers) can go and comment. Maybe it causes rubbernecking, but maybe what is perceived to be rubbernecking is mostly embedded with the desire to make sure that person feels like there are people who care about them. I don’t usually post those links on my blog unless the person going through the shit doesn’t usually get a lot of comments or have a lot of readers, because I don’t want them to feel like nobody cares or hears them.

    A big question is why do you get the most comments and the most hits when something terrible has happened vs something good or something funny. But in my opinion that’s WAY better than the alternative, which is silence, something so so many people experience in real life in relation to miscarriage, still birth, or baby loss.

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:43 #

      Very true Robin. Very, very true.

  32. Her Royal Fabulousness June 20, 2012 at 16:24 #

    I think you are unbelievably amazing and I am so glad we have also connected off the blog a bit. I am also guilty have having left “I am so sorry for your loss” comments. I do mean them when I write them and often do it because I feel saying nothing is worse, when I don’t have the right words.

  33. Cristy June 20, 2012 at 16:26 #

    The list lady, oh the list. Mo, you teach me daily. During those moments where I wonder why I continue to go on, you show me how to be strong and put the fire back in my belly.

    Like you, Trisha and others here have said, my biggest jump in site views was following the news of my last miscarriage. 772 views for a new blogger is a bit insane and it’s only for that post. You’re right, though, rubber-necking does happen. We’ve all been guilty of it on some level, throwing out the one-liners we’ve been taught to use in situations where we feel guilty for not saying anything. Problem is, just like I tell my students, we are far more transparent in our actions then we believe we are. Hence the reason it is important to be genuine.

    Holding you in my heart, lady. I know June 22 is going to be hard, but please remember that there are so many here (myself included) who love you. We grief with you too.

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:44 #

      Love you Cristy. Truly.

  34. Wendy June 20, 2012 at 16:37 #


    I’m one of your lurkers in the shadows, and yes, I first found you in the days after you lost Nadav. I’m not great at expressing myself in the written word (hence the reason I don’t blog), so I’m hoping everything I write comes out the way I mean it in my heart. I’ve never pitied you. I’ve felt a great deal of sadness, because NOBODY should have to go through what you did, but it wasn’t pity. I stuck around for two reasons. First, you amazed me. Your strength, courage, determination and honesty in the midst of everything was amazing. I am pretty positive I would not have handled it like you did, but if I was to go through something like that, you’ve given me hope that I can make it out to the other side. Secondly, I have become one of your silent cheerleaders. I know you’re already a mother, but I hope and pray that you will be blessed with a child (or children) that you are able to raise and watch them grow. Babies that will be able to call you mommy and run to give you hugs and kisses. But most of all, I’m hoping for your happiness. That whatever life brings you, you’re able to be happy. So, while I did come as one of the masses that showed up in one of your darkest moments, I’ve stayed. And I’m sorry for not commenting. I usually feel my comments don’t mean much if you don’t know me. Maybe I’m wrong. But know that I’m here, not to view a train wreck, but to cheer you on from the sidelines. Mo, you’re an amazing woman. Thank you for letting me be included in a small part of your journey. I love your blog. It makes me laugh, it makes me cry, and it gives me hope.

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:45 #

      Hey Wendy, I think you’re better at expressing yourself than you give yourself credit for. Thanks for delurking for a bit and thank you for your kind, beautiful words.

      • Wendy June 22, 2012 at 17:33 #

        Thanks, Mo. I think I just get most worried about how my tone comes across (like when you send someone a sarcastic/snarky email and they take it seriously). Hence the reason I usually just stay quiet. 😉 But I’ll try to pop out of the woodwork every once in a while.

  35. missohkay June 20, 2012 at 16:48 #

    You fucking rock and this is one of the bests posts I’ve ever read. My highest stat days were also the days after my last loss, until I wrote my letter to Mrs Dugger last winter, and now those days are higher, so you can always hope to capitalize off someone else’s tragedy later… I kid, I kid. I use LFCA and often visit the blogs of people who’ve had recent losses even if I’ve never visited them before. I don’t go with the thought “thank god this isn’t me”; I go with its cousin “this could be me.” Because when my version of tragedy struck, I know how much it meant to me to get comments – even simple “I’m so sorry” comments from random onlookers – when I was hurting so much. I sat with twitter open for hours after my last loss and just watched people sending positive thoughts to me. And I’ve discovered and then stayed with some amazing bloggers who I first found when tragedy struck their lives. Having said all that, it did always bother me that so many people visited my page and didn’t leave comments after my last loss. What was the point? I know sometimes it’s hard to formulate the right words, but I think people should TRY. Otherwise, you’re exactly right. It’s just rubbernecking. (I’m also bothered by the fact that people have abandoned me in droves now that I’m in a happier place but that’s a post for another day.)

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:48 #

      I think that some people have an easier time following along when a person is going through difficulty. I may not comment as often on your posts since you got your happy resolution, but I learn a lot from them.

      • missohkay June 22, 2012 at 03:18 #

        I definitely wasn’t directing any criticism at you – you still read and comment frequently. It’s just the collorary to your post. People flock to tragedy but shy from happy posts or find them boring. (Self-protection aside. I realize many can’t read happy ending blogs in the current space they’re in.)

        • Mo June 22, 2012 at 03:38 #

          Oh I didn’t think you were, no worries. 🙂

  36. lesliedp June 20, 2012 at 17:08 #

    Great post- it deserves a ‘you go girl!’ Love and light….

  37. Martha June 20, 2012 at 17:16 #

    I’m a lurker on your blog and many other blogs. I’ve just been diagnosed with my own form of infertility–I’m 35 with low AMH (less than .16), high FSH, a left ovary that is almost non-functioning and a right that under performing. Although I lurk, I’m grateful that you and the many other bloggers in the community do write about your experiences. It is through your blogs that I’ve learned so much about infertility–both the tragic and the joyous. It is also through this community that I know the questions to ask my doctors, I know not to be scared of procedures, I know what might be coming, and I know this is a hard road. But most of all, I know that I will get to the place I need to be and it will be OK. I will be OK. And I thank you for your honesty, your bravery, and your humor. And I thank you for giving me the strength that I need to begin my own journey and not to succumb to dispair.

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:49 #

      Thank you for sharing that Martha.

  38. KeAnne June 20, 2012 at 17:48 #

    I almost feel weird about commenting b/c I don’t think I’ve ever commented here before though we have a few friends in common. Though I desperately want to offer support if it is needed, I sometimes hesitate to do so if I don’t know the blogger well or at all because I don’t want them to think I’m rubbernecking.

    Awesome, awesome post.

    • Kelley June 20, 2012 at 18:38 #

      I started reading I believe when you became pregnant with Nadav, maybe a little before. My heart broke for you when you lost your beautiful son.

      You are awsome Mo. I can’t put into words how much I admire your strength and courage. Sending love and hugs.

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:50 #

      Keanne, you should never feel weird. I love every comment I get. This one is no exception!

  39. TeeJay June 20, 2012 at 19:08 #

    You are a pillar of strength! And don’t you effing forget it! 🙂 You know, it’s been a while since I clicked over to someone’s blog that has just suffered a tragedy. I actually don’t like doing it anymore for exactly the reasons you stated above. I don’t want to seem fake or like a rubber necker. Now, it’s totally different when the stories pop up in my own reader, like they have lately. Even then, I feel like my comments are shallow and meaningless. I hope that those bloggers realize that I truly do mean the sentiments that I post. I totally get where you are coming from with this post. I think it’s like an episode of Jerry Springer. People watch that crap to help them feel better about the drama in their own lives. They can say things like “WOW! That chick is effed up for staying with that guy that cheated on her with her sister, her cousin and her aunt! I’m staying with my cheating man but he’s only cheated with the grocery store clerk.” I hope I’m making my point without offending anyone. The only pity that you will get from me is that I am sorry that such a strong, beautiful woman has to go through what you have been through. It’s just not right that you have to keep dusting yourself off and getting back on the horse. You should have completed this journey a long time ago and I’m sorry that you haven’t. However, I know that you are strong and brave and will overcome any obstacle that is put before you…I just wish you’d stop getting so many obstacles. Much love coming your way.

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:50 #

      Love you dear friend.

  40. Rebecca Pallack (@RPallack) June 20, 2012 at 19:34 #

    Um, wow 67 comments to scroll down through until I get to post my comment. I doubt I’ll ever see that many on my blog ever. So I ask, how goes the diet? I had to start a new one myself. Wait, what I’m not commenting towards what you had to say in your blog? Yeah okay so I already knew that there were many jerks out there in cyber space just like so many that you can see when driving down the free way that turn to gawk at the crash. I ignore them. Cheers to you!

  41. Kristen G. June 20, 2012 at 19:43 #

    Thanks for this post.
    I have always really admired your strength…you are one of the strongest people I know.
    All you said here has really made me think. And I’m just going to be honest here…when I read about tragedy, I think, “Here’s someone else who knows what hell is like.” I hate more than anything that the person has to go through it, but it also makes me feel less alone, if that makes any sense.
    If we’re going to compare our worst tragedies, yours is without question worse…my worst tragedy is my brother being killed, and losing your son is a million times worse…but I always feel so alone in the world because especially among our age group it seems like most people haven’t had to bear hard things. So me personally, I don’t look at you or anyone else and say I’m so glad that’s not me, I say, I’m so very sorry that the world can be such an awful place, and let me hold your hand because I know how much it can suck and I wish for you the strength to find a way to survive it intact and strong (which you, I have no doubt, will do).
    Sending much love right now…

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:54 #

      Thanks hon, right back at you.
      I could never compare our losses. I know your brother meant the world to you, and was in your life far longer than Nadav was in mine.
      I don’t think mine is “bigger”. I think they’re just vastly different.

  42. Jonelle June 20, 2012 at 20:21 #

    This is a great post and one I can identify with on so many levels. I too, feel like everywhere Michael and I go where people know our story we get the two handed handshake accompained with the “how are you doing” head tilt, to which we respond with the “I’m alright” head bob (a little Friends humor, but this actually happens).

    You are a great lady, Mo! You ROCK!!!

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:55 #

      Love the friends reference!
      And thanks. 🙂

  43. Emily @ablanket2keep June 20, 2012 at 20:25 #

    Thank you for this post. Posts like this help me and others to learn. I know I have said “I’m sorry for your loss” not knowing what else to say while crying my eyes out, totally not with pity. Wanting desperately to do and say things that can’t be expressed over the computer or not wanting to make someone uncomfortable by saying something that would comfort me and maybe not them. Plus, sometimes (who am I kidding, most of the time) I’m just horrible with words. I love the word you used. Abide. It really blows my mind how you always seem to find the perfect thing to say. I envy your eloquence and strength.

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:56 #

      Emily you should give yourself more credit. Never, not ONCE has any comment you have left been empty of sentiment. You are an amazing lady.

  44. pjsarecomfyn June 20, 2012 at 20:33 #

    keep on trucking girl….also I mostly come here for your smart-assery and your lolcats

  45. Serenity June 20, 2012 at 21:14 #

    I came because someone told me about you and Nadav and I thought, what a horrible thing to endure. When shit hits the fan for people, I believe in wrapping my arms around them in a hug, even if they’re strangers. We’re all human, we all suffer, and no one should suffer alone. Period.

    I keep coming back because you make me laugh, and I admire your strength & tenacity, and you’re a beautiful writer.

    I don’t pity you: my heart just aches to see another human being in pain. I wish good things and happiness for you. Always.


  46. sar June 20, 2012 at 22:53 #

    You are so, so strong. Thank you for being open and for ranting.

  47. Crazytwinmomma June 21, 2012 at 03:12 #

    I’m a lurker but I do truly care. I’ve been reading your blog since before you got pregnant with Nadav and will continue reading as long as you are blogging. It may be a defense mechanism but I love your humor and definitely appreciate the lolcats!

  48. Lala June 21, 2012 at 04:19 #

    Sing it, sister! 😀
    I figure if I can find in myself even half the strength and humor you have to deal with what life throws at you (and life can throw some really nasty curveballs) then I’ll be doing just fine.
    I’ve never felt pity for you – just angry and damned sorry about what you’ve been through. You make me laugh, you make me think and you are an amazingly wonderful writer. That trite old saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” really, really has your name all over it.

  49. flowergirl June 21, 2012 at 20:15 #

    Hi Mo, sense this is the time to fess up, yours is the only IF blog I now read. I can’t cope with supporting others through their journeys at this time, even if its only through reading, that’s because I need the space. But I still read yours, because you are the most awesome blogger whose blog is more than just about this whole IF thing and I love you for that. I can feel that you do read and respond to our contact.

    FG x

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 00:57 #

      I love every word you write here. I’m glad you’re still following along.

      • Flowergirl June 22, 2012 at 17:21 #

        Gee shucks, you’re welcome!!!! So don’t beat yourself up when you take a break from reading everything you’re sent, and responding on everything. At other times we will both be in the place to carry others, just not all the time – that whole God and footsteps in the sand thing, but we are in both roles at various times

        • Flowergirl June 22, 2012 at 17:45 #

          To be clear, I don’t think any of us are God, but best picture I could come up with.

  50. cassiedash June 22, 2012 at 00:40 #

    This is a powerful post. I’ve only been reading your blog for a month or so, but I could tell from the start how strong you are. I’m glad you know that and embrace it…too many people don’t ever realize how strong they are and are all too willing to play the victim role instead. Thank you for your honesty! I feel for you, but I will never feel sorry for you. Looking forward to hearing about your new revelations…

  51. Ari from your childhood June 22, 2012 at 01:08 #

    I don’t think the spike in blog views was just lurkers to the crash. I’m sure there were some of those- but there were also those of us who were obsessively checking your blog for news because we love you (the real you and the virtual you, I’m blessed to know both) and we were in so much pain for you, and we were SO far away, and we had very little else we could do. You may have had lurkers, but you had stalkers (me, J) too!!! I totally take credit for at least 100 of those hits- and it would have been higher if I hadn’t been studying for the bar. I’m sure looking at the number is hard, and I’m sure it includes some rubber neckers- but it includes a LOT of love too.
    My favorite saying since Abba got sick is- if you’re going through hell, keep going. Love you, Ari

  52. Ozifrog June 22, 2012 at 03:29 #

    Ive thought a lot about this post since I read it. As someone that only found your blog at the time of Nadav’s loss, I could understand what you were saying. But it kept niggling in my head.

    I think what I feel is separated by the smallest margin from what you’ve been through. It sounds presumptuous, but in my pregnancy we were so close to a similar loss. I have a friend who lost her son at full term after 21 weeks bedrest last year, and it’s the same with her. I’ve been on bedrest since 10 weeks -25 weeks, and again and again we were warned of pre term birth risks, of high chances of loss. I think being so close to the same experience, it’s not a rubber necking thing, I was living & rehearsing these possibilities…this is what I needed to prepare for. But it’s not just about me, it’s understanding, as another woman in a dire situation, a glimpse, the tiniest sliver of your experience, and empathising, not in a ‘there’s a car crash I can’t look away’ way, but in a this is something I understand, I almost live, way. There is also this desperate need, I think, to believe that people, humanity generally, you in particular, can come out the other side of this, in a way, and miraculously keep on breathing in and out. It has given many many other women the courage to go on, to keep putting one foot in front of the other on this, what can serm like a stupid infertility crapshoot. No one can understand, fully, your pain, because no one has your unique experience. But each bringing with us our own unique baggage, maybe we can use our empathy and something deeper and more real than empathy, to walk alongside you.

    • Mo June 22, 2012 at 03:41 #

      Thanks for this. Incredibly insightful

  53. Lavender Luz June 22, 2012 at 04:49 #

    Wow. I really had to scroll down to get to the comment box! And I came here for your brilliance (via JJiraffe) and not to gawk

    One thing I noticed was that you must be approaching Nadav’s due date. Like today or tomorrow? I am abiding with you.

    And I adore all the things you say about yourself: “I am a strong, smart, talented, funny woman.”

    Tru dat!

  54. alexicographer June 22, 2012 at 19:37 #

    Here via SQ comments.

    Wonderful post. Tremendously thought-provoking post. Thank you.

    I am glad I personally navigated only infertility, and not loss in trying to grow my family (though even 5+ years in to bearing my one child, my only child, I reread that sentence, which originally ended at …loss.” and went back to revise it. For fear of tempting fate. For I haven’t personally experienced the loss of a pregnancy, the loss of a baby, and as my only child approaches kindergarten and I have, effectively, no chance of ever experiencing pregnancy again, I feel comfortable in thinking I won’t. But there are plenty of other losses out there I’m still eligible for, let’s not kid ourselves). I’d be lying to say otherwise. So, yes. Reading the babyloss blogs I read, yes, I am grateful I didn’t experience that. I’d be lying to say otherwise.

    And reading other blogs, I try to navigate these kinds of emotions. I read the blog of a mom who lost a teenager to addiction, I read decisions she made as a mom (or is making as a mom; she has other children) and I sometimes think I wouldn’t do that. Implicit in that of course is “…and therefore my precious child won’t fall victim to addiction.”, I know it is. And of course, I know I am wrong. I know I have no idea what the future holds, no idea whether I am doing this right or doing this wrong. I so want to know (and I want to do it right). But of course I don’t. And can’t.

    Ah, the uncertainty. It is hard, and yes, I think we want to deny it, and that one way we do that — try to deny it, that is — is as you describe. Again, thanks for sharing this.

  55. Detour June 22, 2012 at 22:47 #

    Hi Mo! I write this as a mostly lurker, sometimes commenter, and long-time reader. I see what you’re saying and appreciate that you want sincerity from commenters and not a cursory “I’m sorry, glad I’m not you” kind of comment/vibe. A lot of people are rooting for you, even when we aren’t commenting all the time!

  56. JourneyGirl June 23, 2012 at 00:20 #

    I came over when you lost Nadav because I saw a call out for Mo and I follow another Mo and I thought it was for her. I did read your post and felt extremely sad for you (as I feel sad for our whole community) I’m not sure if I commented or not but if I did and you thought I was rubbernecking, I sincerely apologise cos I seriously deplore rubberneckers and would never want to be one.

    Anyhoo, came to this post from SQ comments and loved it. I am a cautionary tale amongst my friends and family and it makes me teeth grindingly, venom spitting mad. Just wanted to tell you that I get it.

    All the best and genuinely, my thoughts are with you.

  57. Amy June 25, 2012 at 15:02 #

    Oh, Mo…you make my eyes all leaky. Beautiful post. Have been avoiding commenting here and on other blogs whose authors are coping with recent losses because I don’t want them to click over to my blog (really, no need) and have to feel that icky ‘bitch-is/was-pregnant’ feeling, but this requires a sincere round of applause. I am still not sure which is less considerate – refraining from commenting, or commenting despite knowing it may cause a pang. Love you – always abiding, even when avoiding.

  58. Mel June 25, 2012 at 18:45 #

    Amazing, amazing, amazing post, Mo. It reminds me many years ago when Allison mentioned her daughter’s death date as called by WordPress her “best day ever.” They actually changed the wording when we got a movement going for everyone to click over on a random day to bump that day off the stats page because it was about rubbernecking.

  59. luna June 26, 2012 at 07:54 #

    this is a fabulous post, really a must read.

    there is such a critical line between empathy/compassion and pity. when I write to offer support — however empty the platitude may seem — it is sincere because I’ve been there too. it WAS me too. not that someone would have to experience that rare sort of hell to truly feel empathy or compassion. but you’re right about pity and there is no place for it on top of sorrow.

  60. MC June 29, 2012 at 16:13 #

    Lurker here, just adding my own $0.02. I have not been a regular reader of yours, mostly just following links from the roundup.

    But I have to say that I never once felt pity reading your posts. I rarely think “thank goodness that’s not me”, I suspect mostly because deep down I worry that would just be tempting fate.

    The reason why I am drawn to your posts, and read them carefully, is because I find them inspiring. Your strength and courage is apparent, and if anything my attitude is more like “I hope I can learn something from her, and that if/when I have to deal with tragedy, I can be inspired by the amazing strong women whose blogs I have read over the years”.

    I don’t usually comment, likely for the same reason why I don’t really blog – it takes a long time to come up with the right words, and I usually get interrupted before I can finish them 😦

  61. Chickenpig June 29, 2012 at 23:43 #

    June 20th is my date, and I’m dreading it. I’ll abide with you…or shall I say, maybe we can abide together?

    • Chickenpig June 29, 2012 at 23:47 #

      Duh, JULY 20th. Your post was beautiful.

  62. Adrienne B June 30, 2012 at 00:50 #

    I do not pity you or myself, I just enjoy reading the blogs of people who have survived as much as I have survived. I was asked so many times why I kept going and I never could explain it so I enjoy reading about others in the same position (hoping maybe they could find the right words). I now have the family I always dreamed of, but the journey and loss to get here was something no one could ever have imagined.

  63. denise100709 June 30, 2012 at 05:29 #

    Love the post. A comment from maybe a rubber-necker? Not sure of the definition… I guess I’m not 100% sure of the usefulness in commenting. I’ve done it occasionally. But- I don’t really get anything from it. I hope at least the blogger or someone else might but I have no way of knowing because it’s always a one-sided conversation. I never get responses to my responses! So- why comment at all? Why I’ve been looking at blogs since April is because I had a 13 week miscarriage the day before my birthday (well the D and C was.) I’ve been trying to see if reading other people’s stories and how they cope would help me go through this (since I’m sort of private and don’t talk about this a lot.) I don’t know if it’s making things better of worse but honestly- it’s therapeutic to care about some other people and I appreciate reading humor and strength because sometimes I pretend to have them too- and maybe will some day. Anyway- that’s why I go to blogs and don’t comment…

  64. Amy June 30, 2012 at 18:56 #

    I read this post a few days ago and have mulling it over and wanted to come back with some thoughts. One of my thoughts is on the sheer volume of counts on ‘train wreck posts.’ (As much as I hate to call descriptions of losses and still births train wrecks, I think it’s apt for this situation). I think one source of many counts is repeate ‘hitters’. When someone I ‘know’ or know of is going through something, it weighs on me heavily. Instead of waiting for my blogger or usual channels for blog reading to notify me of updates, I’ll check back myself. Often.

    I think one of the reasons I did this is because in the days and weeks after my first loss, I was in a horrible place. There were so many times I felt I had no one to talk to. I’m not a super frequent commenter. I try to make my comments meaningful and thoughtout, but if someone is in desperate need of help and I’m available, I want to be there. Whether being there is a text conversation because they are feeling alone, or a resource they are looking for right that second or whatever. It hasn’t happened, but I know there were times I was almost brave enough to just beg someone who’d been there to call me and tell me that it’s possible to survive. I wouldn’t want anyone to put out that request and have no one there to answer.

    I don’t disagree with you at all that everyone, at some time or another, has turned to look at a train wreck. I just wanted to add a thought I couldn’t keep from bouncing around my head.

    I know you covered a million other things, and I think this is a fantastic post. Just my two cents on the count.

  65. JuliaKB July 4, 2012 at 21:53 #

    I came here via Mel’s roundup, and then had to think for a bit to comment. So I agree with most and disagree with a part of this. I agree with is the train wreck aspect and the violently not wanting to be pitied part. I didn’t blog when my son died, so I didn’t get the train wreck bit. But the pity? Oh, yeah. Actually, right around the time I read this post, I got a spam comment on an old post of mine, and when I went back to delete it, I reread the post. As luck would have it, it was on this very subject– being the worst story around, and how much we don’t want pity. I called it Reverse Pain Olympics, because while I was thinking about all the ways in which it could’ve been worse, I was also saying that outsiders are not allowed to tell me anything that starts with “at least”.

    So the only part I have a different take on is the part about why pity is pernicious. I think you are an amazing person. But I don’t think one has to be strong or have amazingly funky hair not to be pitied. I think we can be small and broken and at least for a time defined by our losses, and still we shouldn’t be pitied. I think we don’t have to be more amazing than the average bear to deserve to be abided with, and not pitied. We should be treated well simply because we are human and so are the people coming by. You know?

    • Mo July 4, 2012 at 21:57 #

      Thank you for this comment Julia. You are so very right.


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