The lyf so short

I never replied to all you lovely people who commented on my post-illgone-pregnancy post. I really should have, because at that time your understanding, kind and insightful comments meant the world to me; but at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to because I was still overwhelmed and starting to cry whenever I tried to tackle the subject. I made a half-assed try at writing a post in which I'd thank you collectively, at least, but stopped after a few lines; it just wasn't working. The first two weeks were hard.

After that, it has gradually stopped hurting. Now, I'm looking back at my old post and it's become a little abstract: I know how desperate and miserable I felt, and I still understand why I did, but the feeling is no longer there. My eyes still well up a little when I read the whole thing, but it feels rather like an empathetic reaction to the grief of the person who wrote it, not like my own first-hand grief. So maybe I am (mostly) over it. I am still a bit sore, but no longer devastated.
So now, there really is no excuse for not writing a thank-you post.

You see, when I first brought the diagnosis home, I didn't immediately find understanding for how badly it hit me. My mother-in-law (who happened to be the first person to whom I talked about it) listened, but eventually interrupted me with "Well, but it can't be helped!" (I know it can't! That doesn't make it easier! It also doesn't mean I don't need to whine about it!). Jörg accepted my grief after I explained just why it felt like I had lost an actual child, but I did have to explain it first. For him, it was a disappointment, but there was no emotional attachment to the presence (or, as it were, absence) in my belly yet. So at first, he appeared rather confused as to why it made me cry - there was nothing to cry over, after all!
(Please note: This isn't meant to be a reproach or complaint. It's just the way it was.)

In the light of this experience, when 25 people, some of whom I've never met in person, expressed their commiseration, said things that suggested they understood my grief, and just generally made me feel that I wasn't being absurd or going insane -- I felt immensely relieved. (Whoever thinks that friendships formed purely over the internet aren't the real thing -- well, I think they have no clue.) Some of you said some especially inspiring things, which I'll probably copy out somewhere. You were immensely helpful, all of you, simply by reaching out. You really all deserve a big hug and a bigger Thank You, and maybe I'll get around to replying each of you personally, but for now, this will have to do:
Thank you. *hug*

Sometimes, I'll be frustrated with LJ in general and my f-list in particular because I feel that nobody's listening and nobody cares and nobody talks to me, but you know what: As long as you're there when there's either something to celebrate or something to mourn, all is well.

And that, for now, is that.

"We'll do a couple more check-ups, but I'm afraid you should prepare for the possibility that something is wrong with your pregnancy."