Well, just when we got Savy out of the PICU and somewhat stable, my other cousin’s wife, who’s pregnant with twins, was rushed to the hospital, lost one of the twins, and may lose the other. She’s not due until April, so the baby will have to hold on until at least March or it’ll be too early. She already had one miscarriage before this pregnancy, and I think it was because of her weight–she’s just a bit on the obese side. But whatever’s causing it, I still feel really bad, because she’s a really nice person, who already had to put up with a lot of crap from a few people in the family because she’s black. Life should have been easy for her after that, but alas, it wasn’t and still isn’t.
This all happened yesterday afternoon, but I was reluctant to blog about it because I started to wonder where I should draw the line. What information should be for my eyes only, and what is okay to talk about online? I mean, if I were my cousin, I wouldn’t want my troubles broadcast to the world.
But then, I realized that it’s not that big of a deal. This blog is anonymous, I rarely mention names that aren’t common (and never mention last names), and the two people I know in real life who read this would probably find out about the information directly from me even if I didn’t blog about it. And the people who don’t personally know me most likely a) don’t care what’s happening with my fam; and b) even if they do care or sympathize, they’ll never know who I’m talking about and will never somehow run into them or (if they’re really creepy) be able to find them on fb or anything.
Besides, this blog is like a record for me. It’s exactly the same as an online journal or diary. I don’t care if or why other people read it, and I care even less if they like it or agree. In the future, I want to be able to go back and read about how I was feeling at a certain time, what my opinion of an issue while it was happening was, stuff like that. And, just as you wouldn’t write only happy memories in a diary, I need to not write only happy things here, because frankly, I’m not always happy, life isn’t always good, and the sad memories are just as important as the happy ones. You never appreciate the good unless you experience the bad, after all.