Tuesday, August 7, 2012

From the Safety of My Nest

I'm going to bite the bullet and write a post, since I've been writing this in my head for three months now. And I need to stop rewriting it in my head every night before I go to bed.

I haven't felt like writing a post. There are several reasons why, but the main reason is that I've lost the feeling that my blog is a safe place.

I've tried to make it a safe place for me and for my readers. A place where I can be myself and talk freely about what's in my brain. A place where people don't feel attacked or judged. A place where ideas are welcome and intelligent conversation is encouraged. I have Christians and non-Christians who read my blog, and I like that. I like you, dear reader. You who encourages me, you who challenges me, you who enlightens me.

The post I wrote on the day I went into labor with my daughter got some mean comments. Comments attacking me, mostly made from an anonymous source (but a few others as well). I know they were made from a place of misunderstanding, but they hurt. I'll be honest—I spent the first day of my daughter's life crying over those comments. I only logged on to see what encouragement my pals left, but that's not what I got. It took me by surprise, completely. I hid comments for the first time so I wouldn't have the reminder.

Many of my readers came to my rescue and shot back at A. Nonymous, but I took those comments off, as well. Two wrongs don't make a right, you know?

What strikes me is that, in the two or so years I've had this blog, I've gotten one out-and-out negative comment. One. And on a day of such joy, I suddenly get smothered by them. Ridiculous.

So here's what I'd like to say about that post: If you read the few posts before it, you'll see that I specifically felt that God was asking me to wait on his timing to have my daughter. I tried everything to get labor started myself because I was miserable, and I felt God telling me to stop that and wait for him to get things moving. He didn't want me to ask my doctor for an induction. I was trying to be obedient——mostly failing, but trying.

No, I do not think being induced is "against God." Me being induced before I was in labor was going against God's timing in my life. We all have to listen to God and what he's asking us to do, and he asked me to wait instead of asking my doctor to induce me. It's not a stance on induction; it was God's request of me, personally. Even though I started labor on my own, I still needed the assistance of the labor-inducing drug Pitocin to help me along. But I let God start the labor instead of trying to make it happen. That was the thing I was instructed to do, so I did it.

No, I don't think there's anything wrong with having an epidural. I'm not even sure how that came up in the comments, since I didn't mention it in my post. With both deliveries, I tried to avoid them. My reason being that I had back surgery when I was pregnant with my son, and I don't like people monkeying with my spine if it's unnecessary. But with both deliveries, an epidural ended up being the best choice for me.

Babies get here all kinds of ways. Sure, I have personal preferences on how I'd like my babies to get here (we all do, hence the idea of a birth plan), but that doesn't mean I'm taking a stance on how other babies get here.

I made a comment about choosing against God's wishes for me and then having that thought negatively attached to the birth of my baby girl. Well, that didn't happen. But now I have the thought of those mean comments negatively attached to the birth of my baby girl. So...awesome. I pray constantly that God will erase it from my emotional memory. This post is a step in that process.

You're probably thinking, "Toughen up, girl! If you want to have a blog and put this stuff out there for the world, you're going to have to deal with the occasional meanie!"

True. And I can handle people who don't like my ideas or disagree with me. But this one just hit me on such a sensitive day. It really struck a nerve, and I can't seem to shake it off.

Cuteness cures all.
I'm not certain what this means for me. Do I think I'll blog regularly again? Probably. In addition to this soreness, I'm still trying to balance having two kids in the house, finding time to recover from midnight feedings, and trying to take care of myself in between. That's not really conducive to blogging. I've also been dealing with postpartum depression (there, I said it out loud), which kind of exacerbates the issue at hand and probably makes me more sensitive than I would be otherwise. Maybe. There's no way of knowing. It's been a pretty good sting from the start.

So that's where I am. It's possible that you have thoughts—supportive or otherwise—on this post and would like me to know them, but I'm not really up to it. I just wanted to have some peace by clarifying things, which I've done, so I've disabled commenting on this post.

I'm grateful to my bloggy friends Heatherly, Patti, Carey, Shannon, and Teri for being supportive of me during this difficult spell. And I'm grateful to my other non-bloggy friends who have come alongside me, as well.

And hopefully I'll talk to you again soon.