I finally got on Facebook. I avoided it for a long time, only because it seemed like it could be a way to waste a lot of time and I don't have enough time as it is. Then in one week, I missed a friend's birth announcement and the fact that another friend had actually sold and moved out of her house (without a new house to move into) and had somebody ask me five days in a row if I was on Facebook yet. I gave in, got on, and kind of liked it. I posted random things I was doing, saw pictures of friends kids, friended a few people.
I decided I didn't need to friend everybody I ever knew who was on Facebook, but there were a couple of people from college who I hadn't talked to in years. I got into a little back and forth with one of them, and she asked about me and I gave a brief summary of the last 15-20 years, including that I had a baby who died. And then I waited.
And I haven't hear from her since. It's been four days.
First thoughts . . . maybe she didn't read it yet. Then . . . maybe she is thinking about how to respond. Now . . . guess that's that.
It makes me wary about telling people. I will keep telling people, but I'll always feel vulnerable once I write it or say it, waiting to see the response—or lack thereof.