I've been a blogger for two months now. Two whole months have just flown by in my first foray into the blogosphere. Two months in which I have met a whole new community of friends and fellow IFers and found an amazing network of moral support.
For example, today I heard two more pregnancy announcements and received the news of five births in this week alone (there must have been something in the water back in August, and whatever it was, I want some of it!) So I got a little teary and had a little cry, really just a little one, and then I immediately turned to my network of support. You. Yes, you. Everyone who reads this, or who comments on it, or who writes about their own journey, tells me I am not alone and that there are people wishing the best for us and willing us on through this dark tunnel, to the light that I have been told, is at the end.
B.L.O.G.G.I.N.G. There really is an art to it. Especially, in my view, if you are an IF blogger. Why? Because
It really f***ing does.
I think the key to it is honesty. I never thought IF was something I'd feel comfortable discussing, let alone my husband's sperm count and our sex life. But when IF happens to you, that is the last thing on your mind. Right now I'd happily discuss my cervical mucus, sore boobs and the shape and speed of hubbie's swimmers with anyone. Especially those who ask 'So when are you two going to hurry up and have a baby?' Yes, that is a warning - the next insensitive twit who blurts this out might get more, much more, than they bargained for :)
But IF blogging does take courage too. To admit that there's a problem, to find the resolve to deal with it and then to create a blog to fearlessly tell the world about every false hope, every indignity at the doctor's office and every shred of bad news that sends you sobbing to bed for days. That takes balls (or should I say ovaries)! But in truth, it's my fellow bloggers out there that give me courage. I read so many heartfelt, articulate and honest blogs that I knew if you were doing it, I could afford to take that chance and be completely open too.
The art of IF blogging involves many things but a sense of humour definitely goes a long, long way. In fact it is indispensable. How else can we deal with bare bottoms, legs in the air, turkey basters, the stainless steel duck-bill & stirrups, plastic cups, absurd porn magazines, smarmy doctors, rude nurses and a hefty yeah-your-kids-better-be-geniuses-'cos-we're-taking-their-college-fund bill at the end of all that? There is no way out of the infertility insanity but to laugh. And to cry. I find they both help.
So fellow bloggers, when you write do you write for yourself without a care who might read your musings? Or are you aware of your readers, be they friends and family, fellow IFers, or anyone who happens to pop by? I wonder, apart from honesty, courage and a sense of humour what do you think the art of IF blogging requires?
P.S. Lots of love and a big thank you to the IF blogosphere for being there for me when I needed you.
