a facebook confession

I am about to offend 200 million people.  Luckily for me only 0.0001% of those people may actually see this so I think I am relatively safe.

I Do Not Understand Why People Love Facebook.

Let me explain.

Leif has a Facebook account, which he rarely even looks at.  I do not have one and I highly doubt that I ever will.  But, and I am confessing this dirty little secret...I used to check his account everyday but not so much recently.  He knows this, by the way, and is totally fine with it.  I am not some crazed and jealous wife who sits at home smoking Marlboro Reds, while guzzling warm PBR and checking her husband's Facebook account during my soap opera's commercial breaks.  It was his idea in the first place to give me his password so I could get an idea of what this phenomenon was all about.

BTW, Google, it is so obvious that you are totally jelz of Facebook when your auto spell check on Blogger does not recognize "Facebook" as a legitimate word.

Initially I got on and looked at a bunch of photographs of people I knew from high school via one of my good friend's profile (Hello Good Friend, please don't take my social network site hating personal-like).  It was hypnotizing.  Like watching a cuttlefish change colors right before it eats its stunned prey.

I am not above mocking the people I never really liked in school in the privacy of my own home (the only thing worse than a teenage bully is an adult one so I tend to keep my mocking private).  In fact I am very much below that.  I think, upon the first time perusing the Facebook accounts of some people I used to know and not like so much, I actually guffawed*.  I guffawed!

But the novelty wore off pretty quickly.

I was hesitant to get an account even before I started looking at Leif's but now I am sure that it is not for me.  "Friend" requests (and I use the term "friend" very loosely here), "So and so" is now friends with "so and so" plastered all over the place, photoshop retouched profile photographs, "So and so" likes stuff, poking people, trends for ridiculous things...  

I found that the only updates that I was interested in were from people I am already in contact with anyway, which kind of defeats the purpose I think.  At least it does for me.

Plus, being on this side of infant death (stillbirth or neonatal) Facebook is not really a friendly place to be.  I am sure all the other women on this side of the divide who read this blog would agree with me.  I've heard a lot from this community of women who do have accounts how they have to "ignore" a good amount of people because of the incessant beaming and cooing and bragging that they are bombarded with.  A great use for that feature, I think.  Also a necessary one when you are being constantly reminded of what your child never had the chance to experience**.

Ignore.  Ignore.  Ignore.

Yet I still get on and check it every other day or so.  A morbid fascination.  A little bit of masochism.  It is like my very own Frienemy.  The other day Leif asked me if I ever get bored looking at his account full of people I don't know.   Yes.  But I don't think it would bore me any less to have one of my own.

So, to the 0.0001% (or less, I'm not going to overestimate my appeal here) of Facebook users who actually read this blog, I'm genuinely interested to know what it is that I am missing.  I'm in such a distinct minority (200 million people have accounts!!!) that I am convinced that I am overlooking something on this subject.  It is a "Its me, not you," kind of thing.

*ROFLOL in Facebook


**I considered deleting this part because I was afraid of offending people who read this blog, who have babies or are expecting babies, who have never experienced a loss, and who use Facebook.  I didn't want to cause the pendulum to swing the other way, so to speak, and make people question too much what it is that they are sharing.  But then I decided to leave it as it is with this explanation so as to hopefully ease some of those tensions that it may create.  
Sometimes, but not all the time, it is painful to see updates about things Leif and I never got to experience or that George never got to experience.  I absolutely do not want people to censor themselves (other than beyond basic courtesy) but I am weary of pretending that at times it is not painful.  Being in the minority (and thank God or whoever/whatever that most babies make it into this world just fine) makes things pretty lonely and when faced with daily examples of just how unlucky my son was...well, it sucks.  
But that isn't a phenomenon solely attributed to Facebook.  That is part of life for us.  A part of life that I know many women like me feel badly for talking about.  It is why we feel a responsibility to hide our grief and envy away from other women (currently pregnant and/or with infants).  It is why we use the term "medusas" to describe ourselves.  
So there it is.  
I'm leaving that entire part in.  For me and for all the other women I know who are too embarrassed (like me) or ashamed (like me) to say that sometimes seeing other people wrapped up in blissful naivety burns.