I am confused. Why is the couple supposed to feel better about having an abortion and cutting the obviously living baby’s life short? Why is that supposed to be better than letting nature take its course and delivering the stillborn baby? Is it because it’s less trouble for the parents? So they can get the baby’s death over and start the grieving process sooner? Wouldn’t it be harder to be the cause of my baby’s death after seeing an ultrasound, as they did? It seems to me there IS only one choice, to let this baby live as long as possible.

Here is the problem with the logic of this video. This guy is upset because he put great value in the 16 week old fetus that he calls “our baby”, but his lack of understanding for what these protesters are trying to do seems to give no value in the other “babies” that are killed at this location. He says it was one of the most difficult days of their lives, but has NO EMPATHY for the other babies murdered there and those trying to prevent their deaths.

Abortion – it’s an ugly term.  It has a deservedly harsh connotation to it, conveying an untimely ending and something gone horribly wrong.

My son and daughter-in-law had to make a decision to terminate their pregnancy recently, a pregnancy nearly four months along.  They chose to do it, although in reality there was no choice.  But it was still incredibly difficult.

Their baby – my grandchild – had a rare and fatal congenital birth defect called Sirenomelia, otherwise known as Mermaid Syndrome.  Due to a vascular malfunction, the baby’s legs were fused together.  The baby had no bladder, no kidneys, and no chance of surviving.  The defect occurs once in about every 100,000 births.

The pain this caused my son and his wife, who very much wanted this second child, is indescribable.  You cannot possibly fathom the depths of their despair unless you have been in a similar position.  And while nowhere near as bad, the pain of having to watch our children go through this is something my wife and I pray we never have to experience again.

Our kids handled their situation with all the class, dignity and responsibility human beings can be expected to muster.  We are so proud, even as our hearts break for them.  Their strength and devotion to one another and their two-year-old son is the stuff of legends.

But their ordeal was made even more unnecessarily awful by the politics and social controversy surrounding the abortion issue.  On one of the worst days of their lives, they became victims again – this time at the hands of those trying to do God’s work while in fact doing just the opposite.

Although my daughter-in-law was treated at a major Boston hospital, the time-sensitive nature of the procedure necessitated it be done at an affiliated establishment.  After she and my son mustered the necessary courage and emotional strength to get where they had to go, they were met by something they had not considered in their grief – abortion protestors.

Two women were picketing outside the establishment, carrying signs and “communicating” with women walking in the door.  One carried a sign of religious symbolism.  As my son and his wife tried to enter the building where they would lose the baby they already loved so much, they were approached by the women.

“You’re killing your unborn baby!’ was the remark they would remember most as they walked past.  They were both furious and devastated, but held their tempers and concentrated on what needed to be done.  But once my daughter-in-law was in surgery, my son decided to take on the protestors.

In a calm but firm tone, he told them of his wife’s condition.  How they had accosted her at the most vulnerable point in her life.  How they had hurled accusations when they had no idea of the circumstances.  How they claimed to be protecting, yet seemed more intent on hurting.  And better yet, he recorded the entire conversation on his cell phone and posted it on his internet blog.

These particular protestors care about the unborn, but apparently are not concerned with those who have already come into the world.  They made no attempt to discover the circumstances and just assumed this was a couple ending an unwanted pregnancy.  To them, my kids were simply collateral damage in an ongoing war – the price to be paid for later success.

This column is not about a woman’s right to choose, although I have my own opinions on that matter.  It is about the culture of hatred and disrespect that people today foster when they single-mindedly focus on one goal to the exclusion of nearly all else.  It is about allowing the end to justify the means.

I am so proud of my son, and perhaps even more proud of his wife.  At a time of great personal turmoil, they did not just retreat inside their own grief – though no one would have blamed them.

Rather, they cared enough to take the time to explain to these people how their actions can destroy others.  How their words can scar forever.  How nothing is ever as clear or as simple as it seems.

I love them dearly, and I will never forget the lessons they have taught us all.

“What the hell are you always doing on that computer?”

Ever since I started my blog and began dabbling in all the corresponding social media accoutrements, that phrase has escaped my wife’s lips on multiple occasions.

I don’t blame her. My wife, bless her heart, is largely ignorant of all things Internet so it’s not surprising for her to ask that question. In her mind I should just write my post, put it online and be done with it. So she’s always surprised to see me on the computer so much during the day, and at all hours of the night. I simply tell her I’m “doing stuff for the blog” and that has always sufficed. But today, for some reason, it wasn’t enough.

“There’s no way you’re spending all this time on the computer just for your blog,” she said. “Tell me what you do.”

So we sat down and I provided her a detailed account of what it’s like being an active blogger. I know some of you are old pros at this and I’m preaching to the choir, but if there’s anyone reading who’s thinking about starting his own site, please allow me to provide you a little insight into the amount of work necessary to even come close to succeeding.

Assuming you have your domain and you’ve set up your Web site (all things my brother Nate did for me), now it’s time to post some content. Some people make a point to post every single day. Others, like myself, spread it out over the week. Personally I only post if I feel I have something of substance to share with you all. I stay away from reviews, giveaways and I try never to bore you with recaps of my day. Content is king, and I work very hard to always make it interesting for my readers. So even though I may only post 2-3 times a week, rest assured I’m spending a lot of time crafting those entries.

But getting to the point where you can hit the “publish” button is just the beginning.

So you’ve written the world’s best blog entry. Congratulations. But if you don’t have any fans then it’ll be wasted on the three family members currently reading your blog. So you need a following. And the quickest way to do that, is via social media.

You need a Twitter account. Facebook is essential as well. Whatever your subject matter is, there’s surely a whole network of people who share the same interest. For some people it may be Transgendered Furries with Foot Fetishes. In my case, it’s parenting. So I would go to Twitter and Facebook and enter a series of search terms for dads, moms, parents, parenting, fathers, fatherhood, etc. You’ll soon find lots and lots of people who are currently talking about topics similar to the one you’re blogging about. So you add them as friends.

I call that planting the seed.

But as anyone with a green thumb knows, planting a seed is just the beginning. Then you need to water it and tend to it as it grows, in the hopes one day you can smoke it. In the blogging world, that means gathering Twitter friends and Facebook fans, and making sure every single one of your posts shows up on both places complete with a link back to your blog. Then you should join a core group of people and follow them and their work. And you can’t just do it half-assed either. You need to really pay attention to these people. You need to go to their sites and leave pertinent comments. You need to “re-tweet” their Twitter conversations to your audience, because they’ll do the same for you. Then you’ll start to appear on Twitter Lists so people can find you easier. Eventually, if you’re really into it and you do things the right way, you’ll begin to carve out your own niche as well as join a group of like-minded people who are all spreading the love around and giving each other more and more hits and unique visitors.

I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Just like in real life only at warp speed.

Eventually you fall in with Web sites such as Dad-Blogs and the Good Men Project, and maybe they’ll accept you as a contributor. Now you have your audience plus their platform as well. So now you’ve got your Web site, your Twitter account, your Facebook page and perhaps some contributing or guest blogging gigs at various sites. You’re hooked up and plugged in.

The only problem is you’re teetering on overload.

I have a full-time job, so I can’t do this stuff during the workday. I write early in the morning, late at night and on weekends. And, from time to time, I have to deal with a pesky 2-year-old and do the whole dad thing. So in my “spare time,” I need to catch up on a day’s worth of 330 Twitter friends, Facebook peeps, see what I missed at Dad-Blogs, comment to the comments people left on my own site and plan out some future content in the hopes of driving my hits up.

And you can’t ever stop. Because even a few days of inactivity will result in a precipitous drop in readership. Your Twitter followers will go down faster than Rosie O’Donnell on Ellen Degeneres. MJ wanted to know if I could totally disregard my blog and all that goes with it next month when we drive down to North Carolina for vacation. I told her absolutely not. Because in this age of instant gratification and a million and one voices all straining to be heard, you will be forgotten if you dilly-dally.

Not to mention, I’m completely and hopelessly addicted. Between my laptop and my Blackberry, I freak out if I’m not connected to the Internet somehow. At this point I have about a month to go before I’m mainlining coffee and sucking down cigarettes outside of a 12-step meeting for online junkies.

When all is said and done, I figure I spend 15-20 hours a week on my blog and related social media. Basically, it’s become a part-time job. Thankfully it seldom feels like work because I love it, and the people I’ve connected with are some truly talented and amusing motherfuckers. But if you really want your blog to stand out and have any shot at success, you need to REALLY work at it. It’s much more work than I ever anticipated, but that’s offset by the fact that it’s three times as rewarding.

How about you experienced bloggers and social media gurus? Any tips or anything to add?

CHECK OUT FATHERHOOD FRIDAY OVER AT DAD-BLOGS, WHERE I HANG OUT WITH OTHER DADS WHO NEGLECT THEIR CHILDREN IN THE NAME OF SOCIAL MEDIA AND INCREASED SITE TRAFFIC.

]]> http://www.daddyfiles.com/2010/04/30/bloggin-aint-easy/feed/ 14 http://www.daddyfiles.com/2010/03/06/in-the-limelight/ http://www.daddyfiles.com/2010/03/06/in-the-limelight/#comments Sat, 06 Mar 2010 12:17:16 +0000 DaddyFiles1 http://www.daddyfiles.com/?p=2158 Chris over at Dad of Divas has an ongoing series he puts out where he asks a new dad a bunch of questions in order to raise awareness of all the great dad blogs out there. For whatever godforsaken reason, this week it’s my turn.

Go check it out and feel free to tell me what a tool I am. But definitely give Chris some more traffic. He’s doing a great service for schlubs like me.

After all, anyone can have a blog. That means every asshole with an opinion is free to hold this virtual megaphone known as the Internet up to their mouths and shout it from the rooftops. But what if you want to stand out from the pack? With millions upon millions of bloggers out there, how do you separate yourself and keep people interested in what you have to say? It’s a question many bloggers struggle with, myself included.

Personally, I feel honesty is the key. If you’re real with people they know it and you will inevitably attract more and more readers, because they feel a genuine connection with you. But you can’t half ass it. Honesty means cataloguing EVERYTHING. The good times, the hysterical stories and, when necessary, the shit that grows like mold in the back of your brain that you know is there, but try to keep at bay.

Delving into those questionable thoughts is what most mommy/daddy bloggers fail to do. There’s this unspoken rule that seems to crop up the minute your baby is born, that says you must put on a happy face no matter what. After all, you have a kid now. Your life is supposedly complete. You’re not allowed to be unhappy or morose. It’s all baby all the time.

The only problem is this is bullshit. Just because you have a baby those thoughts don’t go away. And to ignore them or pretend they don’t exist is just bullshit posturing. Besides, as an astute reader at Ask and Ye Shall Receive pointed out, the best blogs to read are the ones that let you in the author’s head and make you feel like you’re spying on thoughts you’re usually not privy to. And since I have a tendency to go into cyclical funks every 3-4 months, I offer you these (not so) slightly disturbing thoughts of mine:

Last week MJ woke me up in the dead of night, screaming her head off. She was having night terrors and they weren’t screams, so much as piercing shrieks of death. Like if someone was trapped in a fire and about to die. As I bolted upright, I immediately threw my arms around her and tried to shield her with my body. Why, you ask? Because I was positive there was an intruder in the house and he was going to either stab or shoot her. What I forgot to do — what I never even registered in that moment — was to protect Will. Honestly, I didn’t think about him at all. I was too preoccupied with my wife’s well being. What does that say about me as a dad that I totally forgot about him?

Speaking of intruders, I’m convinced that burglars/murderers/sadistic serial killers are ready to break into my house at any moment. When I walk around the house at night or look out windows, I’m actually surprised when I don’t see someone ready to kill me. I can remember being 10 years old and believing that if I sat up in bed at night, a sniper would get me. So now, every sound I hear at night is someone casing the joint, planning their strike.

I love my son dearly, but he can be a real asshole. Yes, I called my 18-month-old an asshole. Get over it. I know this probably violates Mommy Blog General Law, but it’s true.  Like when Will hit me in the face last night. I told him no hitting and to be gentle. He looked me straight in the eye, smiled, and then hit me again. And he knows the dog is petrified of his toy lawn mower, so he purposefully chases the poor dog around with it and laughs maniacally when she cowers and whines. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Asshole.

On the rare occasion that Will sleeps through the night, I’m always petrified that something happened to him. I’m afraid he died of SIDS or someone came in and kidnapped him. I picture myself making tearful pleas to the media for his abductors to bring him back home safely, despite knowing all the while that he’s not coming back.

Sometimes I think about having to deliver the eulogy for my close friends and family members, and occasionally I write down and save the really good lines.

My grandfather and my aunt both had multiple sclerosis. MJ’s mom has it too, although a much less severe case than my relatives. I constantly wonder how I’ll react if I find out I have it. My relatives with MS were brilliant people, who were reduced to spending a majority of their lives in a bed having other people feed them. What’s worse is that brilliance is still there, but it’s trapped in their heads and unable to escape. I’d off myself before I let MJ spend her life spoon feeding me while my son looks on with pity. And what if Will is diagnosed? I can’t even go there.

Did you know it’s no longer a bad thing to have an STD? I’ve been watching TV and I see all these commercials with attractive men and women who admit they have herpes. Yet there they are, frolicking through a meadow and sitting side-by-side in matching outdoor tubs watching the sunset. There are no cold sores on their lips and nary a hint of vaginal discharge. Nope, these people have herpes and they’re living the good life. Catching syphilis must be like heaven.

I live 4 miles from the Sagamore and Bourne bridges, which are the only two routes for vehicles to drive on and off Cape Cod. They arch hundreds of feet above the Cape Cod Canal. And when I think about likely terrorist targets, I know the bridges on a busy summer weekend would be high on the list. And while I think about how tragic that would be and how I never want it to happen, a part of me also hopes I’m home if it does happen because being there in the immediate aftermath would be the story of a lifetime.

Can you tell I’m in a little bit of a funk?

There was this guy, probably 45-50 years old, riding a bike. The end of the bike path is a street with a railroad crossing, and this guy was riding on the street past the entrance to the path. As you might expect from a railroad crossing, there are — you know — railroad tracks across the road. While that seems like common sense to you and I, intelligent readers, Mr. Bike Man seemed to be unaware.

Not more than two feet away from me, he never slowed down and he careened wildly over the tracks in the street. His front wheel hit a rut and he went from riding at a good clip to a screeching halt. And since every action has an equal and opposite reaction, the bike may have stopped but Mr. Bike Man kept going. The back end of the bike kicked way up while the front wheel stayed still. Mr. Bike Man was catapulted forward, over the handlebars which went between his legs. And it was then, while he was in mid-air, that I heard it.

“EEEEEEKAHHHHOOOOOOOO!”

It was a combination scream/squeak/sound of terror. It was a sound I’ve heard from my 8-year-old female cousin when she saw a spider. I don’t blame the guy, he (and I) thought he was in for a mortal wipeout right there on County Road in Falmouth. But thankfully Fate was looking out for him. He actually ended up landing on his feet, while his bicycle did a full flip and landed just inches away from him. It was actually kind of impressive.

Now keep in mind, I was just standing there waiting to cross the road with my dog when all of this happened right in front of my face. I just stood there in open-mouthed disbelief hardly believing what I Just saw. I should’ve immediately asked him if he was OK, but my mind hadn’t processed the series of events that just took place.

He looked at me and saw I was the only one around. Then he picked up his bike, nodded at me, and rode away. Finally I was able to speak.

“Dude!” I yelled as he furiously pedaled away. “Are you OK? That was friggin awesome!”

He never looked back. And it wasn’t because of his near wipeout. It was because of the girlish shriek he emitted.

And that’s when I realized something: Mr. Bike Man could never be a blogger. I know what you’re thinking: what does some douchebag who nearly killed himself on a Schwinn have to do with blogging? The answer is: a lot!

In my short stint as an Internet scribe, I’ve learned that you can’t hold back. People want truth, and raw truth at that. They want you to let them in to your weird little world. They want honesty and forthrightness. And readers (that’s you all fine folks) know when you’re holding back. Hell, if that were me I would’ve laughed hysterically with any onlooker who witnessed my Evil Knievel impression. And then I would’ve told you all about it. Even if the seat ended up lodged right in my fat ass, I would’ve spared no detail. Because you, my faithful following, deserve to know the intricacies of my posterior.

But seriously, that’s why I love bloggers. They’re not afraid to put themselves out there, even at the risk of looking stupid. Everyone does humiliating things and ends up looking like a moron, but only the brave and self-deprecating ones use their own misery to uplift and entertain the masses.

And besides, non-bloggers like Mr. Bike Man end up with their stories posted for the world to see anyways because people like me are lurking out there. Waiting patiently to document your embarrassment.

So how about it my brothers and sisters? Leave me a comment detailing something stupid or embarrassing you’ve done lately and let’s all celebrate our stupidity together.

Unlike boring Mr. Bike Man.