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
Very well written and so moving!!
My heart goes out to Shellie and her family!
Ive been reading the posts and comments this week and am bummed that a few have been right where Shellie is. I think that the communication between bloggers will help her out at some point. Im sure the moms that have been through this will rally for her and be able to help in a way that no one else can. What does it matter if its through the internet or in person as long a Shellie and her family can get what they need through others that have been there. You can have all the family around in the world but the only people that will help in this situation is people that have been there. No one can come close to identifying with her pain unless they have been through it. Without you Trisha the connections wouldnt have been made. Good post and you are a good friend.
Wonderful post, Trisha, and so true. Thanks for sharing this article with all of us, bloggers and non-bloggers alike, we’re all “online”. My heart breaks for Shellie (and I don’t even know her) and I continue to keep her and her family in my prayers.
maggie@mannwieler.com
Beautiful, Trisha.
Trisha,
This is why we love you. You speak for us, because you say what we want to say, what we feel.
I, too, am a retired military wife, who spent 12 years in Germany and 12 more at other posts away from family.
I wasn’t lucky enough to have an online nertwork, we didn’t even have a computer with the Internet.
Thanks, Trisha, for all you do.
Now that I am medially disabled and can’t walk much or go out much, my computer is my world. And my friends are virtual. And MomDot is my family.
Thank you! I was *a little* frustrated with one blogger’s reaction that Shellie should have been seeking comfort from REAL friends and family rather than twittering – because for many of us, REAL is exactly as you’ve defined it here. Well said…
You are the meaning of friendship!
This is about a grieving mother though and you are right. It is so thoughtless of someone to be so cruel in a time of so much pain.
Beautiful post Trisha. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and the sentiments of so many of us. Sending out prayers for Shellie and her family for comfort and continued support.
Beautiful post…I’m heart broken over the loss of a child in our community and the grief of being a mother myself and hugging and kissing my children and thanking them for being with me tonight.
A beautiful post.
Trisha…this was eloquent!
YOU are good people and your love and support in this HORRIFIC time for Shellie is just love!
Jill
Wonderful post! This community is amazing and I am so proud to be a part of it. Much love to Shellie and much love to you and Lee for being there for her during her darkest hours.
Beautiful post. I believe good friends are hard to find, and whether they be online or in real life, they are so special. I have a few good friends in real life, but like they, we don’t live near one another anymore. I also have women that read my blog that I have become very close with. We turn to one another often. And you are so right that virtual relationships are not less valid than relationships in real life.
Trish – Just now reading this beautiful post. You have me in tears. Thank you for saying it all just like you did. My son is 2 and I’m constantly terrified by the “What If’s”. I’m happy to have this “online” family of Moms by my side out there in cyberspace. Thinking of you, Shellie, and her entire family.
xo colleen
You really captured what family is here, Trisha, and how important it is for people to come together during a tragic time rather than put each other down. Family is amazing and sometimes friends reach beyond amazing as well
Great job, Trisha. This needed to be said, and you have represented us well. Thanks.
Trisha,
That brought tears to my eyes! Well said and extremely eloquent. Big ((hugs))!
very well put.
Thank you for writing this Trisha. It was beautiful written and said exactly what many of us feel. I have so many friends online that I forget at times to try and make friends offline. I am just digital. I’d rather email then call (it’s quieter nd you can hear me over the kids!). It never even crossed my mind that Shellie was wrong in anyway letting everyone know through twitter.
so true. Great job with writing this…