The Things I Don’t Blog About – Part Three

Posted by Carly Morgan

The weirdest thing about this experience is that nobody can tell you what you’re supposed to be feeling. Everyone handles it differently, it seems. Some people don’t even consider it a loss…they just take it as a sign from the universe that their time hasn’t come yet. Other people go through long periods of mourning and treat each loss no differently than you would treat the loss of a beloved family member.

I think we’re more towards the beginning of the scale. In fact, one of the things that I’ve vaguely been struggling with is that everyone assumes it’s more tragic than it really is. I can tell, because nobody wants to bring up babies anymore. At my age, everyone and their cousin is getting pregnant left and right, because we’re right in the middle of that whole family-building chapter of our lives. You would think, I guess, that it would be hard for me to hear about all of these pregnancies and hold all these cute, squirmy kids, but if anything it’s sort of the opposite. Some people might react to a loss like this by wanting to just shut their eyes whenever they see a pregnant woman, but I want to run up and invite her to lunch so I can hear all about everything.

Fact: I am freaking baby crazy right now.

Unfortunately, I can tell that it makes people uncomfortable when I talk about it. I don’t think anyone wants to bring it up because they don’t want me to feel sad and when they do talk about pregnancy, it’s mostly stories about people who have had miscarriages. I’m interested in that as well, since it might help us on our journey, but in the end I really just want to talk strollers and hiccups and potty training. Boring stories about how hard it’s been to put them down at night? Yes, please!

It’s an ironic reality (yes, I’m using “ironic” wrong, but you know what I mean) that by talking about wanting a baby and not being able to carry one, I’ve been outed from conversations about babies all together. People are now more likely to tell baby stories to friends who aren’t the least bit interested in babies and couldn’t care less (*cough*Janean*cough*) than they are to tell me anything.

I just found out that a friend of mine is expecting her first…and she’s about seven months along. I don’t know if she was hoping I wouldn’t notice until I also had a baby, at which point she’d whip him out from behind her back and go, “Surprise! I have a toddler!” When I called her out on it, she admitted that she found out she was pregnant right around the time we started talking about this whole thing and she just didn’t want to bring it up. I can appreciate it and I love her to death for that kindness, but I did have to point out how misguided it is. She’s not having our baby. Nobody is. So I can’t really be jealous of her or anyone else, because the thing we really want is our baby.

The thing I don’t blog about and the thing I don’t talk about is also the thing that people aren’t talking to me about. No good. While I appreciate sensitivity and help, I’m really hoping to just make this a part of my life that isn’t tragic or uncomfortable or secret. It’ll help us out a lot and ultimately, we’ll do better when we do make it through a pregnancy if we’ve had good practice at staying positive. So that’s the plan.

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Proud future owners of awesome cuteness.

 

The Things I Don’t Blog About – Part Two

Posted by Carly Morgan

You know, I believe there are definitely things that you shouldn’t talk about in polite conversation. In fact, unless you are insulated by many, many cocktails and surrounded by very close friends, you shouldn’t talk about them in any conversation. For me, that list includes unpleasant bodily functions, secret racist/homophobic/classist/misogynistic thoughts, and graphic details of your sex life. One of my least favorite things in the world is the phrase, “I really shouldn’t be telling you this..,” because whatever comes next is usually in those three categories listed above.

But there are other things that don’t get talked about. For people my age, this usually includes marital problems or professional frustrations. For example, I have friends who are having a hard time in their marriage or who aren’t getting the job or promotion they feel they deserve…but we don’t talk about that stuff. It’s always there underneath the surface, but I certainly don’t feel right bringing it up. Is that a good thing? I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if I’m supposed to be bringing it up so the person has an outlet to talk about, but then I think it might be pretentious for me to assume they want to share those things with me or anyone else, for that matter.

The funny thing is, I don’t usually have that kind of stuff. Sure, I have things that are personal, but I’m one of those open book people who doesn’t keep a whole lot under lock. Part of that is luck – I haven’t had that many things in my life that were too painful or embarrassing to share. Sure, I have my moments of uncertainty and insecurity and disappointment, but I’ve always found that sharing them takes the edge off for me. That’s why I adore my friends so much. Those listening ears make everything better.

But there’s been this thing. And it’s just been here with me and Kyle, lurking in the background. We haven’t talked to many people about it and we haven’t even talked about it with each other more often than we had to. We finally had one of those things…those rotten things that go on in your life that you don’t want to talk about or acknowledge or share. This is a new thing for us and it’s been…well, just plain rotten.

Unfortunately, this thing also doesn’t seem to be taking care of itself and going away, so I’m starting to realize that we’re going to have to acknowledge it at some point. It is my hope that this thing, like so many other things, will be easier for us to wrap our brains around if we start bringing it out in the open and letting it just be there. So, to let it be there, I’m going to bring it here, on this most public of forums. Today, I’m just that brave.

Long story short: We want a baby and have been trying. It’s not going well.

You didn’t see it, but there was a long pause after I typed that last sentence. What else should I say? I don’t want to drag out the whole story, but I also don’t want to cheat and leave it there. What kind of details am I supposed to bring up? Is it ok that I’m talking about this? Is this a personal story that we’re supposed to keep in house? Will it make any difference that I’m writing this out at all?

Since we got married, we’ve had four miscarriages. Each time we confirmed the pregnancy with the doctor, we bought little things like books and articles of clothing and each time it went away, I packed those things up and took them downstairs. We’ve tucked money away since before we got married so that we had a fund that was just for Baby Morgan. I didn’t look for work when we moved because we figured I’d just have to go on maternity leave anyway, but now, under doctor instructions to stop trying, it looks like we’ll need a new plan. The thought of working and using the baby fund to buy a new car isn’t a tragedy, per se, but it’s sort of aching in a very strange way…like disappointment in very slow motion.

We haven’t given up hope by any stretch of the imagination, since we’re both so young, but every now and then I feel like we just look at each other with total surprise…I don’t know when this will become our normal. I have absolutely no idea how to fit this chapter into our story.

We don’t know how to talk about this with other people. We don’t know how to talk about it to each other. And, I suppose we don’t even know if we’re supposed to talk about it. Nobody else is talking about it, which means lots of people are just going on like they didn’t just hit a major speedbump. Is that what we should be doing? I don’t know. It’s not the worst idea, really. Just keep swimming…

The Things I Don’t Blog About – Part One

Posted by Carly Morgan

 

I’m writing a lot these days. I now have three fairly large blogs that I try to keep up with. I’m still working as a freelance writer and I have a combination of little and large projects that are keeping me occupied. When I can, I exchange witty emails with my oldest of friends, to make up for the severe lack of luncheons and movie nights that have become geographically impossible. And then there’s the rest…emails from readers that turn into long exchanges, scribbling in the journals that have slowly started to take over our room, notes that hang on the wall and threaten eternal fatness if I don’t get myself to the gym…everywhere I turn there’s just words and words and words. And I’m writing them.

But what about the things that don’t get written? A friend complained recently that I never write about her on the blog and I pointed out that I very rarely receive good returns when I write about real people outside of my husband and myself. Even with good intentions, my large mouth has repeatedly gotten me into trouble, so I no longer write about my social circle. (I also enjoy irking this friend, which is why I’m referring to her as “friend” and not by her name. Oh, she’s going to be fur-i-0us!)

I also don’t write about my work very much because it just feels like I should be keeping it separate. It’s true that I’m not working in a scary, executive job where it would serve me well to have a professional image that resembles a 24/7 paper-pushing cyborg with no emotions or personal life. Still, I’m not sure that the people I work for would want to give thousands of dollars to the freelancer that eats pork uterus and didn’t even have a decent first kiss! My thin, little professional bubble needs to remain in tact…at least a little.

But there’s other stuff as well. Stuff that doesn’t come out because I do know how public this writing is. They aren’t terrible secrets or embarrassing overshares…they’re just things that are private because they are mine…or in many cases, ours. Kyle has nearly no control over these online windows into our life and although he’s a saint about it, I can’t trade cheaply in the things that are intimate to our us-ness. It just wouldn’t be fair.

I’ve been struggling a little, though, with feeling dishonest. I get so many letters from people who feel like they know me, but as a friend recently pointed out, I’m not really what I appear to be in these little essays. I’m not particularly kind, not particularly interesting, and not particularly good company. Or, perhaps, you do see me and it’s the familiar bitchiness and total loss of control scattered throughout my existence that’s actually appealing.

I don’t know…but what I do know is this: it is easier for me to do this than it is for me to do anything else and it helps me to do this, even though I’m sure it seems narcissistic and petty to keep a blog only about this little life. So, it’s hard when I can’t write about the things that are here below the surface and, in a way, I do so want you to know what’s really here. Perhaps it is the validation, but I mostly think that when I’m honest I’m also holding myself accountable for things. It sort of keeps me from burying my head in the sand and missing my life.

Is it possible, safe, or even sane to be more open on a personal blog without crossing into the land of “Why in God’s name would she ever put that on the Internet?” I don’t know…

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