There was once a time when Charlotte was 2.5 years old that I looked outside from an upstairs window to see her halfway down the backyard sidewalk heading to a parking lot off the side of our base housing.
Adults were passing her by.
No one stopped her wondering why a child of her age wasn’t flanked by a running mother. She had nearly reached that parking lot by the time I got down the stairs and out the door myself, running as fast as my bare feet could take me.
There was once a time I woke up, by the grace of God only, to find Charlotte having snuck out of the house before our family had even woken, to stare into the pool.
“Just looking” was what she said.
There was once a time that Charlotte ran off in Walmart and ducked through an aisle like only little legs can and was off and gone, her father having to finally admit defeat and call a Code Adam till she was found, in a different part of the store, hiding in clothing racks.
All of these moments, and many more like it, have been the trials of raising a child that only threatens to get bigger by the minute. And as she becomes more and more confident, in many ways I have to balance her impending freedom and growth with my natural instinct to hover and protect.
They say a mothers heart is always walking outside her body in her children.
I understand.
On Monday when we all learned the news of a friend and fellow bloggers worst nightmare, things stopped. The silence of disbelief held only for a second to allow for reflection before it scattered away to make room for support. The moments of our own children became that much more noticeable, the moments where it could have been one of us and indeed was partly one of us.
Many don’t understand. If the blogosphere is a family, the mom bloggers are the heart. We live and breath with emotion and passion and creativity.
We hate and love each other in one fail swoop.
And yes, sometimes we are a broken family. We spend reunions with our own tribe. Some of us are guilty of judging, of making quick reactions, of not going out beyond our own virtual doorsteps. I spend more time as the red headed step child then the matriarch, but I embrace my roll as the small part of what I choose to share. Yet even I, as much hot water as I tend to boil, would never be so self righteous as to attack, presume, or intentionally antagonize a grieving family. The key to publicity, negative or otherwise, is to have a point.
But there will never be a point here, will there?
There is no race to be won, no goal to be reached, no high five at the end of the day. There will never be a time that you crack open a beer and toast to a battle fighting that has had a conclusion. There are no sides to take. There isn’t a rally or boycott to begin.
This isn’t the “PR Blackout.”
This is life.
There is a child that will never grow up. A mother that will never get the joy of watching him walk down the aisle and marry. And all the years from this moment on will be filled with what ifs and how it would have been.
I live online. I work online. My friendships are online. They always have been. As a former military spouse, I was rarely planted long enough to gain friendships that didn’t turn into myspace comments or sharing pictures and emails online.
My best friend lives in Tampa. My husbands best friend lives in Texas.
As an adult, relationships and friendships don’t come easily. I would be lying if I said they ever did. I have kids to watch, crafts to make, a business to run, a husband to care for, and a house to maintain.
But the relationships I have, even if virtual, are no less valid despite not being neighbors in the same city. In fact, my distant relationships are stronger then my local relationships. I can go weeks without seeing a neighbor. In contrast, I make valiant effort to pick up the phone, to send an email, to plan vacations together, to send gifts and mail to the ones that are not near me.
Those are relationships I maintain.
Those are people I love.
I have 100s of people I would call friends and thousands acquaintances. And while I have surely been wrong in some occasions, online or offline, the fact is I am a digital mom and there are millions like me. I share my life, the good, the bad, and the weird, with complete strangers day in and day out.
I make no apologies for it.
Sometimes it leaves me exhausted and ready to throw in the towel, but other times it leaves me awe inspired and renewed.
Can I tell you a secret? I don’t think Anissa likes me. No, really. We used to talk in email all the time. We had even at one point planned a room at BlogHer together. Something happened. She even got on my ass about an article I wrote (ok, who hasn’t, bad example). But you know what? When she had a stroke, I jumped.
I didn’t think back and start picking apart our relationship or wondering if I should be there. I just was. And so was everyone else. There were no time for judgements, for regrets, for questions. I only hope that some day we get the chance to repair our relationship.
That is what a family does.
With tragedy often comes triumph.
Recently a mom blogger told me that Shellie was blessed to have me in her life. I responded that it wasn’t her that was blessed, it was me for knowing her.
I will look back on this week the rest of my life, not with thoughts of criticism of one lone stranger whose unkind words will forever be immortalized as an embarrassment to her true character, but with the rally of a community that may not always agree, but will always be a unison voice for those in need.
~Trisha
This is an amazing post. Thank you for sharing such beautiful words and thoughts, and for reminding us what the blogger community is really about.
Thank you for writing such a moving post. No one knows the pain of losing a child until they have. It changes a parent’s life forever. Anyone who is criticizing Ms. Ross for dealing with her tragedy in a way that helps her cope during this terrible time is simply unfeeling and inhumane. My thoughts and prayers go out to Ms. Ross and her family.
Here are some statistics on pool drownings. The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) reports that approximately 500 children under 5 years of age are the victims of swimming pool drownings each year. Another 3,000 children are treated in hospital emergency rooms each year for injuries associated with near-drownings. Swimming pool drownings are the second leading cause of death in the United States for that age group (after auto accidents).
Many pool drownings are the result of faulty latches on pool gates, not parental neglect. Flimsy mesh gates with hook latches may be faulty by design, meaning the manufacturer of such devices may be liable for producing a faulty gate and selling it to the public. If an indvidual rents a home with a pool, the landlord may also be liable for failing to maintain a proper safety gate around the pool, especially when the landlord rents to a family with children.
When drownings occur, even in one’s own back yard, those who are in the business of keeping the public safe from pool deaths may be at fault, not the parents. Consulting with a pool drowning attorney when tragedy strikes is critical to bringing justice and compensation to victims of tragic pool drownings.
Beautiful post and so true.
When I had a miscarriage last week I didn’t receive any support and understanding from my family or friends at home, it was the friends I have made trough my blog and this community that were sending me prayers, and helping me (and still do everyday) to go trough this.
My quote of the YEAR: “We live and breath with emotion and passion and creativity.”
Beautifully put.
I tried explaining this to my husband-that I totally understand turning to twitter for comfort and why. You hit the nail on the head and I’m going to tweet this post. I’m praying for Shellie’s family and will continue to.
I honestly have no words. You’ve written what most of us feel so beautifully.
For me, this community is my lifeline to sanity.
Beautifully said, perfect.
So eloquently you’ve just written everything I’ve been struggling to write for months…coming up on years. Thank you Trisha.
You are so great at communicating this perfectly. Thank you…
Trisha this was beautifully written and such true words.
Trisha, this is by far my absolute favorite post of yours. So beautifully written.
You summed up myself almost to a tee with my online friendships – when we moved to Hawaii, 5000 miles and an ocean away from family and friends, the internet allowed me to still continue those relationships and has brought me many many more that I would never have met if not for twitter, my blog, the Internet. Yes, I too am a digital mommy. So I get it.
I do think that this tragedy (and having to take Cam to the ER this past week by myself WITH Leah – it would have been so nice to have a friend to come with me or to take Leah) made me realize that I do need to cultivate my friendships with those that live by me. What if god forbid something like this happened to us – who would we have. We have many acquaintances but I do miss that feeling of “real true, can call to get a real in the flesh hug” friendship.
Thanks for this post – so spot!
hugs!
I don’t know Shellie, or very many “mom bloggers” for that matter, but I can tell you that my friends–the ones who would rally to my aid in an instant–are virtual ones. Many I have never met personally, but hope to one day. And if tragedy ever entered my life, I wouldn’t think for one moment before I notified them online. It’s how we all connect. Thank you for coming to her aid, for keeping all of us who were touched in some way by the tragedy informed, and for being brave to stand up against ridicule for doing it. God bless you and your Mom community and I will always be praying for her and her family.
Who cares about blame? In the end a mother has lost a child and a child has lost a life. Do the details really matter at that point? You can never bring the child back and Shellie will forever be broken as a result. My heart breaks for her, especially for feeling the need to PROVE it in the first 24 hours.
While I completely understand that trust has been violated in the past- but to ask that of a mother in the first 24 hours of losing a child is not only outrageously insensitve but completely heartless.
I don’t know who Anissa is, I wasn’t involved enough to know about the PR Blackout, but I do know that I have seen the online “mom” community rally and support Shellie and her family like nothing else I’ve ever seen. I am in amazement of the power of social networking, and I hope we can rise above the negativity that is always a byproduct of something that special.
Trisha, while my heart goes out to Shellie and her family, I want you to know that I just wrote an article about pool safety tips – you can find it on my blog: http://www.momontheurn.net – please share it with your readers, or even republish it if you like, so that we can prevent this same accident from happening again within our blogger and twitter communities again. I’m a NLS certified lifeguard and I also have a backyard pool – the tips I’ve shared are different from the standard “keep your pool locked” kind of tips. These are practical and down to earth things every parent should know. Thanks!
Beautifully put Trisha. I’m sitting here with chills and tears in my eyes. You really know how to put it all in perspective…
The other day my two-year old and I were walking to the car. She was right next to me as I turned to get her door open and I turned back to pick her up to put her in her car seat and she was GONE. I turned the other way and she was almost at the curb running towards the street.
A few weeks ago someone left the bathroom door open (we keep it closed ALWAYS). I was doing chores around the house and happened upon it, looked in, and found my two-year old was pulling scrubbing bubbles out of the cabinet.
We can’t watch them every single second of every single day. All we can do is take precautions, be as vigilant as we can and PRAY for their safety.
As a former military wife, I too live my life online. When I have good news, I share it with my online family first before most everyone else except immediate family. The same goes with bad news. Because I KNOW that they will be there to support me.
When my husband was station in CA when he was active duty, we lived on base in a house. We had neighbors. Lots of them. We tried to be friendly. But it wasn’t anything like they portray in “Army Wives” and when my husband was gone on work-ups and deployments the ONLY friends I could count on were online.
And after seeing the support network that grew out of a single brief message, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Very well said!
Some of my best relationships are those that I have developed online. We all have came together with similar purposes and grown upon such.
My heart has ached for Shellie. When I got word of what happened, I was still in school but spent the rest of my time tapping my fingers, trying to keep busy, so I could get home and see what I could do to help. No matter miles away or right next door, friendship is friendship. When one hurts, everyone hurts.
Beautifully said. I have chills because I am the same way. I wouldn’t wish what happened to Shellie on anyone, including my worst enemy.
Well said, Trisha.