I’m watching the cursor blink over and over in my text entry field. I pause to begin typing, because I know with each word, it brings me another word closer to end of this last post here.
And then I remember that every word brings me another word closer to a new beginning at The Infertility Voice.
. . .
It’s a strange virtual precipice, to look back across the expanse of over a million words I’ve written over the past 2 years, 11 months, and 3 days. The Infertility Voice is hardly a blank canvas – all of these words will be coming right over there with me on Monday. But they exist within a newer, different context.
It’s like when you move: sure, you take all your stuff with you. But everything looks a little different when you see it laid out in your new place.
I hate moving. We’ve done it so much in the past 3 years that when we moved into our house (and after the nightmare that was our closing) I told my husband there is no way in hell we’re moving for at least another 5-7 years.
Well, let me be totally honest: it’s not so much that I have moving – I hate packing. Okay, well, that’s complicated too, because I love a good purge of accumulated junk. But like when we moved out of student housing and into our home, I waxed nostalgic then too , as I wrapped up the trappings of early married life and packed them away in boxes. Like I said back in 2010: “There’s a lot more than just pots, pans, and books packed into these boxes.”
There’s a lot more than just words and code stored on servers here at Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed.
. . .
Before my video went viral, I had 29 Google Friend Connect followers of this blog, when I was still over at Blogger. I have no idea how many people follow this blog currently, since WordPress doesn’t have Google Friend Connect, but since I track analytics, I know that it’s a lot more than 29 people coming around here on a regular basis.
I ask myself all the time why people come back to read what I have to write. What makes people care?
Is it the intimate details of my infertility journey, my marriage, my life and my work? Is it the cobbled together website design over the years? Is it my humor and snark?
Or is it even the community that’s been created by interacting with each one of you, through comments and follow up posts and whatnot?
I’m not sure what it is, but it’s meant a lot to me to know that people care about what I have to say. I’m still humbled by it, every single day, that people come to this site from all over – a link on someone else’s blog, from my video or Facebook page, or just from organic Google searches – and then stay to read.
It really does mean a lot to me. And as I write this last post, just like when I move to a new place, I fear that I’ll leave something – or someone – behind.
. . .
I did not cope well for the first six months I moved to Massachusetts. We didn’t really know anyone, I was stuck in a miserable job, I was terrified of driving around here (there’s a reason MA drivers are called massholes) and I just hated how big of a change it was in my life. I missed Maryland. I told my husband I wanted to move back.
He asked me what I really missed. “Do you miss Maryland or do you miss our friends?”
I realized he was right; that I didn’t miss living next to an IKEA (ok, no – I really do miss living next to the IKEA) but that I missed the tight group of friends we had built up the three years we lived there. These same friends have now scattered to the four winds around the country and even internationally; even if we moved back, it would never be the same because they weren’t there anymore.
When I had that realization, I started finally warming up to Massachusetts.
Now? When somebody asks me where I’m from, I often mistakenly reply “Massachusetts.” Then I correct myself. “I’m from New Jersey, originally,” I say. That’s how deeply rooted I am to this state. I love it here. If we ever do move again, it better be within this state.
I may not have loved it at first, but Massachusetts is my home now.
I’m just as nervous about moving to The Infertility Voice as I am excited by it. I’m nervous that I’m leaving folks behind here, leaving a distinct community I helped shape behind. I know some of you won’t follow me and I get that.
But I’m so fucking excited about moving too. Because even though the community and focus might be a little different, The Infertility Voice finally taps into the work that I’m meant to do in this life. Why wouldn’t I be excited by that?
And I don’t expect it’ll be that different really: a lovely new design, reaching out to even bigger audiences, and more resources and support. It’s the same bowl of ice cream, just a different flavor AND a cherry on top. Again, what’s not to be excited about?
. . .
Maybe it’s knowing that this last post at Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed is the end of a chapter.
I promise you: the story is nowhere near finished. The next chapter starts this Monday.