Last night I got an email from a reader about my pregnancy.
I've actually gotten a LOT of emails lately.
I'm still not caught-up with December's emails.
It's overwhelming, really.
But last night's email subject was titled, "Bye Kimmie".
I opened it, intrigued by what may be written.
This lovely woman explained her personal struggles about infertility and miscarriage.
She told me that she found my blog a little over a year ago, and that she felt so comforted reading words from someone she could relate to.
She said she comments often.
She reads every new post.
She was loyal.
She was also telling me that all of that was about to change, but she didn't want to leave without saying goodbye.
I know that some of you are here solely because my stories of loss may have been relatable to you.
Or maybe my post about "never having another two year old" made you feel like you weren't alone.
And like this particular reader, I know that you may cringe every time I mention this new pregnancy.
We never thought we could have more children.
I don't expect you to be excited for me.
I am not asking for compassion, understanding, support, or anything else.
I have been there- I have burst into tears at the mere sight of a pregnant woman.
I have thought mean things when I saw a glowing expectant woman.
If you can't handle the posts, the updates, the tweets- I understand.
If you have to stop reading, it's okay.
I have been there.
My heart was shattered.
I know the ache.
Thank you to those of you who have asked to send gifts.
Thank you to those that have offered prayers and kindness.
Thank you to those that won't leave my side.
But if supporting me or reading about another pregnancy/baby is too difficult for you; all I ask is that you say goodbye before you leave.
I still know the feeling of feeling broken.
Things may be going smoothly for me right now, but trust me, if you email me about your struggles, I still feel your pain.
I still pray for your heart to heal.
I still wish you every happiness.
Today I have been blogging for exactly two years.
In that time, I have come across the most incredible people- women, families.
For two years I have written back and forth with women who have endured suffering and sadness.
My compassion for you will never change.
Two pink lines on a piece of plastic does not change my heart.
I am still me.
I guess I just want to say that I know it's hard to be happy for others when you're feeling blue.
I just want you to know that every shade of blue is welcome here.
But like I said, if you have to leave, please say goodbye.
I hate to see you go.