Seven years ago I started my blog with a post about Bella’s reflux.
I was on Blogspot and remember feeling very overwhelmed by it all. The header and design seemed overwhelming to figure out. Luckily I was able to use different colors and styles of fonts in my writing. Because that’s the most important thing, making sure people want to gouge their eyes out as they read your blog.
I have never regretted writing on here. I’ve had some hard months, times where I didn’t want to write, and more than one nasty comment – but this blog changed our lives. It started out as something to do because I was bored, we were snowed in a lot, and Bella wasn’t even two months old. Sam worked all the time and we had one car that he took during the day. I lived in a small town at the time, and my outlet was when I discovered mom blogs.
It was like an entire new world opened up for me.
For the first time in my entire life, I felt like maybe I wasn’t odd or an outsider. Other moms my age loved to read, loved to write, loved to be alone. They loved their children and yet felt a longing to create and be seen outside of their homes. They wrote about work, colic, their marriages, medications, PPD, friendships and moves. I ended up making some of my closest friends from the bloggers I read, other women who understood and loved me and my quirks – even through my ups and downs as years passed.
I’ve experienced people who felt for us so deeply, ones who loved my children almost as much as I did even though they were thousands of miles away. We’ve been on the receiving end of incredible generosity and kindness. I’ve also felt the sting of jealousy and misunderstanding (mine and others). Sometimes these relationships ended with me realizing just who could see past the 15 minutes of fame I didn’t ask for, to my very broken heart trying to find anything to make me happy for a little while.
Many, many times over the past 4 1/2 years, this blog and what it brought to me saved me from drowning in my sorrow. It helped to pull me along until I could breathe a little again.
If you’ve been here all seven years or found me today – thank you for reading. Maybe one day I’ll get to hug you and thank you for all you did and do for us.