Guest post by Carissa Stevens
An e-mail invite, sitting unexpectedly in my inbox, truly changed my life.
The year was 2005, and I was a freshman in college. I was a commuter student, and the university was a mere fifteen minutes away from the home I shared with my parents and younger sister. Despite this, I was overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness I could not name. In high school I had been fortunate to have a circle of close friends and a steady boyfriend. In the span of a few months, I found myself without either.
The e-mail, however, urged I join a site known as The Facebook. At first it felt silly, uploading my grainy senior photo and typing a few generic sentences to let a virtual world know “About Me”. As the friend requests began arriving, however, my feelings changed. I was able to connect with friends from high school and, in time, fellow students in my courses. In a strange (and admittedly geeky) way, I began to feel as though I were part of a community again.
One of my favorite aspects of Facebook (as the “The” was ultimately dropped) was sharing good news with my friends and classmates. Gone were the days where I could share something exciting in the hallway and immediately receive positive feedback from my friends. Instead, I happily settled for the next best thing: typing my good news using caps lock and emoticons and receiving comments.
And share I did. I happily announced to Facebook when I passed my Anatomy final. When my relationship status changed from “Single” to “It’s Complicated” and finally to “In a Relationship”, my virtual friends couldn’t be more thrilled for me. I announced the completion of my student teaching and, finally, my college graduation. When the principal of a local high school called to offer me a teaching position, I had barely answered yes before making it Facebook official. When my boyfriend popped the question, I immediately went to work changing my relationship status to “Engaged” and filling my profile with pictures of my engagement ring, and later photos of our various wedding showers. Eventually, I was able to share two albums full of photos taken on the happiest day of my life.
In October 2011, I discovered via a home pregnancy test that I was pregnant. After I recovered from the initial shock and told my husband and immediate family, I began to fantasize about sharing the news via Facebook. I knew my friends would be thrilled for me. I couldn’t wait to share maternity photos and black and white ultrasounds. I couldn’t wait to create photo albums for baby showers and a nursery in progress. I couldn’t wait to reveal the gender and have friends tell me why daughters were so special or why sons were so much fun.
My excitement came to an abrupt halt when I lost the pregnancy a short six weeks later. I never revealed specifics on my Facebook because the word “miscarriage” was simply too painful to type. It was an admission of my failure and, at the time, I was ashamed. I instead watched my friends and colleagues announce their pregnancies both on Facebook and in real life, and felt that loneliness and loss of community once more.
In January 2012, I discovered I was pregnant again. I told myself I had paid my dues to statistics, and that this pregnancy had to work out. I again fantasized about sharing my news, and again found myself barely surpassing the six week mark before my second pregnancy ended.
Coming home from the emergency room, my judgment clouded by grief and hormones, I wrote a brief status telling my friends, my former classmates, my colleagues, and distant members of my family that I had lost my second pregnancy. There were no capital letters, no smiley faces, just facts. I don’t know what I expected, but I was immediately flooded with support. The most poignant responses came from women who told me that they had been there. I was shocked and saddened for them yet comforted in a way I can’t truly explain. I thought I was the only one.
On days when I log onto my Facebook and see a plethora of pregnancy announcements, ultrasound photos, and newborn babies wrapped in blankets, I consider removing myself from the online community I have known since my college years. However, when my heart feels as though it is breaking, I think of the support and love I received from my virtual friends. It can be painful, but Facebook is truly a reminder to me that life goes on.
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