Thursday, November 4, 2010

The Facebook Connection

This morning, a friend sent me an article from The Washington Post.

It's funny because I had already planned to write a little about how dealing with definitely not infertile friends while you are struggling. Facebook is a huge part of that.

I would say almost every day, often many times a day, there is something on Facebook that makes me sad or a little resentful or wistful. Or just plain reminds me.

These are odd feelings to have and really hard to describe.

When it is a good friend  or family posting baby pictures or a cute/funny story, I'm good. I might have a second of "I can't wait for that" or "I wish I was at that place." But, mostly I'm good to comment on how cute the kiddos are or how funny the story is. Or tell a good friend that despite what she might be feeling as a new mommy, she's a good one.

When above said friend was in labor, I stayed on Facebook all day waiting for updates from her husband.

Am I wistful for it to be me? Absolutely. Am I a little jealous that she's getting this experience and I'm not yet. Absolutely. But, I love my friend and am so incredibly happy for her and thrilled to watch her turn into this amazing mommy.

Then there are the people I am friends with but don't necessarily know. You know, the people who you went to high school or college with and knew, but haven't had contact with in years. Those are the ones that start getting to be a bit much.

I'll admit to hiding one person recently when she started posting about being in the hospital in labor. I didn't need a play-by-play there. Said person had also managed to complain on Facebook quite a little bit during her pregnancy. That I couldn't handle. Sorry. Not when I would give anything to be in that place. So, just for that day, I didn't need to see that everytime I logged on.

The next day, I went to her page and posted a comment on how pretty her baby is. Just so you don't think I'm a monster. Ha.

And I'll admit a twinge today when another friend from high school posted about a sonogram his wife had. This is their third. I don't recall seeing that she was pregnant. Soon, Ashley, soon.

It's just hard some days to look on there and see that I am one of only a few friends from high school, college, even elementary school who doesn't have kids yet. I feel like a failure. I feel like they have to be wondering why I don't have kids. Yes, I occasionally am so self-absorbed that I actually think people who barely know me think that. Seriously. I give myself an eye-roll for that.

The Washington Post article starts out with Facebook posts that bug me the most. The "if you love your daughter/son post this" or "if you've given birth, post this." Those irk the living crap out of me. Makes me feel about 2" tall. I know that is not their intent, but they do. Maybe it's the people who post them, I don't know. But, they make me feel like crap.

So, while I will fully admit to the not-so-nice feelings I have about friends, babies, and Facebook, one thing I will also scream from the rooftops is that I don't care that people post these things.

I would never stop going to Facebook because of these posts or put down people who post sonogram pictures or baby bumps or update every status with a pregnancy or baby update. You know what? It's their life at that moment. And I will just go ahead and say right now, it will be my life when it happens for me and I will post sonogram pictures and baby bumps and pregnancy updates.

I might be a little more sensitive about what I post or how often simply because of what I've been through. But, the key words there are "because of what I've been through." My experiences have and will continue to shape how I view things, but these other people haven't experienced them, so I cannot possibly fault them for this.

So, I will continue to block when necessary and will have no problem if I ever get blocked. I will continue to comment on all the cute babies--because, really, they are; I've very lucky that all my friends and family have such cute kiddos--and funny stories.

And when my time comes, watch out!

No comments: