Dear Gorgeous Readers who will remain nameless and wonderfully anonymous…
In this most dark of my navy blue hue, I have received from beyond the ether two missives from two readers which have struck me deeply. It’s easy to believe/think/know that typing into the stratosphere is a wasted exercise, and it’s been much discussed in the press the change in author’s voice/tone that is inevitable between a diary and a blog. I am far more aware of my sentence structure and alliteration than I would be in a private notebook, and also write more often, thinking I’m letting someone down by not providing them with one more link with which to while away another latte.
In any case, I wanted to thank you all for your hits, your reading and your presence. It's funny, blogging, isn't it? I've come acropper in the past, getting intrigued and excited by others' stories, lives, triumphs and traumas. I think the power of words is so easy to underestimate, in this time of transient text and the demise of the handwritten. To that end, I have tried to keep this bluegray period of my life a little bit distant from the quasi-reality of engaging deeply with other blogs on the subject of babies and tears for fear of getting to sucked into the misery. I've been finding writing the blog posts in isolation strangely cathartic and also about the only record I'm able to keep of how crappy I feel (or not) from one post to the next. I think if you write down how rubbish you feel it can help to let it leak out and not seem quite so nameless and vast. I've often wondered who the people are lurking in the background and I'm honoured that you find time in your day to read my ramblings, rants and wrestling with yarns.
I have also found out that, as would be expected, with the statistics as they are, that those who have stumbled on my blog have been getting married. They’ve been getting pregnant. And others have not. I do feel terribly guilty about the blog, sometimes, knowing how many people struggle with conception and pregnancy and here I am with a baby and still not happy. I can only hope that it's helpful rather than offensive and informative rather than ignorant of my lot... There was an article in this weekend's Observer about miscarriage as the last big taboo. Shockingly sad but strangely normalising too, but then I've been lucky enough to not go through it myself.
Anyway. Thank you for staying around. And thanks for reading.
Give my love to the rest of the blogosphere, and do drop me a line or a comment, too, if you fancy saying hello, won't you?