Outed on Thanksgiving... And Silenced?

I discovered blogging way passed the shinny coolness of it had already vanished. Everyone and their mothers has a blog. Some good, some great, some terribly bad. When I decided to start writing and sharing personal stories with complete strangers, I wanted it to be with a purpose, which is how I started my infertility blog -- The Infertility Doula -- I wanted a place where people still coping with infertility could come to and find emotional and practical advice from someone who'd been there. I felt my voice was unique in some ways.

It didn't take long to realize how much I enjoyed writing that blog. And that writing had become a big part of my daily life. A fellow blogger (Repro Jeans) recently talked about how she's always writing in her mind, albeit not all of it makes it to the Web.

So then I decided to create this blog, where I could write about motherhood after infertility and perhaps create another community for women to support one another. Selfishly, I also created it in order to be able to write more often, write more personal stories, stories that involved my child, my family and my thoughts.

In a sea of countless so-called mom blogs, I didn't know if I'd stand out. But as I began to write and find my "Flucky Mom" voice, I discovered that the more personal my entires, the more comments popped up in my inbox. And ultimately, through this anonymity that blogging offers me, I've started sharing pieces of myself that  most of the people who know me in real life don't probably know.

Blogging in some ways is serving as cheap therapy. Writing things down has allowed me to start taking a good look at myself. I have countless entries sitting in my draft box that while have yet to be visible to you have gotten me to think quite a bit about decisions I've made and decisions I'd like to make. Most importantly, all of these thoughts, sound bites and straight out venting sessions are private.

The obvious irony of course is that I have no problems sharing them with perfect strangers, my handful of regular followers and those of you who are just stopping by. But disclosing them to people who actually know me would be unthinkable.

So imagine my surprise when I heard my DH (My best friend. The only person who I can share my deepest thoughts with) out me at the end of Thanksgiving dinner.

Talking about blogging and the Web with his step-mom, I hear him say "Oh, yeah, and E has two blogs. Infertility Doula and Flucky Mom."

I felt like my whole world was pulled from right under me. I jumped right in and said "That's a private blog (referring of course to Flucky Mom). I like my anonymity."

"So it's like writing a journal?" asks my MIL.

"Yes, except that I get to be anonymous."

And not five minutes go by before DH blurbs out the name of my blog again! At which point everyone is making a mental note of it.

I know that his indiscretion was not intentional. I don't think he even realized what this blog had become for me. But damn it, it made me so angry and truthfully, terribly sad.

Sad because I have started to love this blog. It's not much, it's not big, it's not the most groundbreaking, but I do love it.

But now what? Do I shut it down? Do I find a new voice? Do I reinvent myself? ... I don't know.

I don't know. All I know for now is that I big piece of me has been taken away.