Humbled

Wow. There’s nothing like announcing that you’re going invite-only to bring out the masses.

Well. Relatively speaking. It’s not like I’ve had 300 people asking for an invite—which is a good thing, because apparently Blogger limits me to 100! But I have to admit it’s been an ego boost to hear from all of you—especially you lurkers. Honestly, I feel like I’m in an episode of “This is Your Life.” Or maybe an observer at my own funeral. (Too morbid?) I am so completely touched by some of the e-mails you have sent me, and I’m humbled that you want to follow along on my journey.

I’m sad, too, because by going invite-only, I’m inevitably turning this blog into a different animal. I love the fact that a heartbroken mom/mom-to-be/wanna-be-mom-to-be/wanted-to-be-mom-to-be who has a story somewhat similar to mine can find me on this newfangled thing we call the Web. For that same reason, however (and many others) I have to protect my privacy. My greatest source of support could become my nightmare if I’m not careful. I prefer that this blog continue to be read by virtual strangers (that’s you guys!) rather than risk someone I know stumbling across it.

Now down to business: Everyone who asked for an invite has been added to my list. A few of you, however (specifically, I’m talking to Geohde, Dorian&Amp and Nurse Lochia) said I could find your e-mail in your profile. Um, it’s not there. Geohde, I know we’ve e-mailed before but for the life of me I can’t find your address! So could you just drop me an e-mail so I can add you to the hordes? (Ha!)

In pregnancy-related news, my friend A hosted the shower for me a week ago, and it was lovely. All my worries were for naught; the perfect number of people came to the shower. I continue to be overwhelmed by the support of friends.

Sleep, however, continues to elude. Oh, I get a fair amount—but I’m constantly waking up, shifting, settling down uncomfortably and repeating the same cycle about an hour later.

I must admit, too, that I’m starting to get my first round of the freak-outs. As in, “Holy crap, in about six weeks I’m actually going to be responsible for the well-being of another person!

M and I are also getting our butts in gear and finally ordering a monument for Zach’s grave. Between the opening and closing of the grave and the monument, they seriously do rob you blind. Sigh. But we can’t not put the marker there, because how would we even remember where he’s buried? Such is the problem with stillbirth that you never would even think about. If Zach had been born alive, we could’ve gotten life insurance for him and not had to pay for everything out of pocket.