My Virtual Baby Shower

by Kristin Darguzas

I started an online weblog three years ago as a way to expel extraneous and dysfunctional emotion about my boyfriend, my goals, and my passions.  I'd written in pen-and-paper journals for years, and was forever losing notebooks and concocting paranoid scenarios wherein my parents would stumble across it and demand to know when I started having premarital sex. The fact that I am 30 years old and still worried about this demonstrates my inherent need for a journal in the first place.

The world wide web seemed to be an excellent alternative.  My parents would never find me amongst the millions of URLs, and you can't lose the Internet, so I'd never have to start over.

I really never expected that anyone would actually read my blog, and I certainly couldn't have predicted the life-altering impact it would have on me.

When I became pregnant unexpectedly in 2004, my world tipped over on its side.  As a career-driven, ambitious young woman with grand plans to travel the world and scale the corporate ladder, I was a part of a childless, crantini-swilling group of fabulous girlfriends.  My fiancé was supportive, and our relationship was solid, but I still had so many questions about what was happening to my body, about what would happen to my adrenaline-fueled lifestyle? Would I disappear?  I did not have faith that the textbook-sized pregnancy manuals would provide me with the real deal about pregnancy and new motherhood.

I started posting to my blog daily, wailing about nausea and night terrors and the fact that my cold dead heart might be broken because, dear god, I didn't even like babies.  I sought out and commented on other blogs, naturally drawn to the writing of other pregnant women struggling with the daily shocks of brown lines and maternity underwear and loopy hormones.

My fiancé knew about my little "nerdy blog project" and smiled when I posted pictures of my progressively bulbous belly on my site.  I expanded my repertoire to include pictures of our dog and our neighborhood.  It distracted me from my fears about my future, and in the meantime, my nerdy little project was gaining a loyal audience of strangers.  I could ask "Is it normal to cry because my dog is too cute?" and ten minutes later, a dozen experienced Moms from around the world would rush to comment on my entry.  They would let it be known that I was not alone in my pregnancy-induced sensitivity.  My real-life friends knew about my blog but never really asked me about it, realizing, perhaps, that it was my outlet where I could pour my uncensored emotions about this bizarre journey I'd embarked upon.

In June, I posted an emotional entry about how I believed my friends had forgotten about my baby shower.  Nine months pregnant, with swollen feet and skyrocketing hormone levels, I was positive this meant that I was a walking pariah and my baby would have no clothes and would definitely hate me.

Later that month, I received an email from an old work colleague who occasionally read my blog.

"The Internet has thrown you a baby shower," she wrote "Can you come to my house to see what you have?"

In her kitchen was a massive box filled with exquisite presents for my unborn baby boy.  There was a handmade quilt from Michigan, a charitable certificate from England, Lavender Balm from California, books and baby clothes from all over North America.  They were all from strangers who read and were somehow impacted by my blog.  The surprise shower had been secretly organized by an Internet reader in Florida whom I'd never met.  She invited some of my other readers to my "Virtual Shower" via email and created a secret website where they could post their gifts.  She cleverly obtained the address of my colleague so my street address could remain anonymous.

I was astounded and touched that my daily rambling and whining had led to this.  I went home with my arms full of special gifts from women I'd never met.  And then I posted about how much their generosity had touched me.  It was the most beautiful displays of kindness between strangers that I've ever witnessed.

Now that I've given birth to my son, I depend on my blog as an outlet for the daily surprises and frustrations of new motherhood.  There have been several instances I would have been convinced of my imminent insanity if it weren't for dozens of my readers assuring me that my emotions and reactions are normal.  I have received tips on teething, sleeping, and coping with my new identity as a Mom.  I also read dozens of "Mom blogs" everyday, and am so grateful for this tight-knit and resourceful community.

Today my blog receives over 20,000 visitors a month from Australia, New Zealand, Japan, Mexico, England, the Netherlands, the United States, and Canada.  I receive emails from expectant mothers who thank me for telling it like it is, and occasional emails from strangers who tell me I should be a nicer person.  The great thing about the Internet is that I can discard the bad advice without hurting any feelings, and often the Internet does have great advice on teething tablets and sleep solutions and remedies for bleary, bag-ridden eyes.

With the anonymity of the Internet frequently broadcast in a negative light, it is nice to know about its power to establish friendship and bonds around the world.

I am grateful to this warm circle of strangers, and grateful to have an outlet to relay the shocks and frustrations and intense joy of new motherhood.  I can talk endlessly to my baby, but it's much nicer to have an audience that sympathizes.  Blogging is modern technological therapy at its finest.

Kristin Darguzas can be found in Calgary, Canada, studiously avoiding her neighbors, carting around a Giant Baby, and winning her dog's love with roast-beef flavored dog sauce.