BlogHer is a community and media company created in partnership with women in social media. I’m kind of enamoured with it. I’m a women in social media! It’s a place for people of all different walks of life and experience to come together and share their stories.
I’m a storyteller.
I’ve embraced my role as a mommy blogger – highlighting the headaches and hilarity involved in raising tiny twins. And I love reading the stories of others. It’s a treasure trove of click-through easter eggs to be found in hours on the Internet.
Voices of the Year is an event at the annual BlogHer conference. It’s part of the Community Keynote. Because if you’re going to have an event of a bunch of bloggers, why not spotlight the actual events that drive us.
Nearly 1,700 blog posts were nominated.
Today I received an email. “I’m writing to let you know that we’ve selected This is Prematurity to be honored at the 5th annual Voices of the Year Community Keynote!”
My twin boys were preemies. You already know this. Unless this is the first time you’ve read anything on my site, anywhere. (In which case, WELCOME! Stay a while, and share some of your story.)
I’m so completely honored and in utter shock.
And not only because I’m going to the conference this August. (I was all worried I’d be the lone nerd off in the corner attempting to pretend I’m not nearly as anti-social as I feel.)
To be recognized by so many who I admire, and about a topic I rant passionately about. I wrote the post being honored in celebration of Prematurity Awareness Day. Because it affects more people than you may think. And I, for one, have no intention of staying silent.
I’ve never been happier to make people cry. (Honored video and post below.)
Thank you. Thank you for reading.
Congratulations to the 2012 Voices of the Year Honorees and Readers! I am beyond thrilled to be one of you.
This is Prematurity
I am prematurity.
I am the chart that reads 0/3 – three pregnancies with no children.
I am the tears on a Labor and Delivery hospital room bed.
I am the spikes on a contraction monitor.
I am the sadness in the doctor’s eyes at 22 weeks.
I am the steroid shots at 24 weeks.
I am the crowded operating room at 27 weeks.
I am the NICU.
I am the isolette.
I am the tiny child swaddled in wires.
I am the parents’ fear.
I am the roller coaster of emotions.
I am the dance of two steps forward, one step back.
I am the ABCs – apnea and bradycardia.
I am the pulse-ox monitor.
I am the alarms sounding desats.
I am the oxygen.
I am the feeding tubes.
I am the stimulation.
I am the new normal.
I am the haze and fog.
I am the time in between – after birth but before my due date.
I am the parents.
I am the nurses and doctors.
I am the family and friends.
I am the miracle of a tiny breath.
I am the miracle of life.
I am a miracle.
I am prematurity.
I am aware.
We are hope.