Let me be clear: I love writing. I love this blog. I love anybody who reads it because that means that you also like me or my writing or my blog (....okay, maybe you don't but if that's the case I don't want to know).
You know those commercials by Johnson & Johnson? The black and white ones that show moms and dads doing things with their kids that they never thought would be interesting until they actually had them--giving them baths, having a night in, that sort of stuff? They usually end with some sort of phrase like "Boys' night out could never compare to boys' night in" or "You've always been the tall, dark and handsome type, so how can it be that the love of your life is short, fat and bald?" that sends pregnant women waddling for the tissues and makes new (and perhaps old) parents tear up with a moment of self importance. They were right: everything changes when you have a baby. I knew that, but what I didn't expect was for everything to change when I had mine: my health, her health, our house, my marriage, my faith, my body, the contents of the photo stream on my phone (okay, maybe I expected that one). It was all affected not only by her wonderful, glorious presence, but also (and more so) by the terrible, traumatic way that she entered the world. And I will be honest: it was a LOT worse than what I wrote about on here. I censored quite a bit.
I'm still reeling. I'm still healing. I went on a hike yesterday and limped my way back to the car because my C-section scar still hurts and that ruined tendon in my hip still aches on long walks (and sometimes for no reason in particular) nearly two years later. And it's just too much to write about. It's too personal, too raw, and as much as I started this blog to inform (mostly family) about my life and travels and adventures, this is something that I cannot live with inside a fishbowl. And it's also something that I can't yet compartmentalize enough to write as if everything's hunkey dorey.
I've thought about this blog every day for the past five years, and I hope to come back to it faithfully someday. Maybe that'll even be sometime soon; things have a way of rebuilding themselves after you declare that it's over. It just takes the pressure off, I guess. But for now, I'm hanging up my keyboard. I'm still writing--I've been cheating on this blog for months with a beautiful leather bound journal, I've become quite the email queen, and I've actually started to write a book. It's just time to live (and write) a little more privately.
So thanks for the love and support and comments and prayers. I'll see you later.