I should have deleted my Instagram when I announced my fourth pregnancy years ago and was bombarded with comments telling me to get on birth control.
I should have deleted my Instagram when my youngest baby was sent to the NICU for premature lungs at birth, and instead of offering well wishes or prayers, many people just took the time to send me hate mail for giving him a “stupid name”.
I should have deleted my Instagram when I took five minutes to post a picture of my kids in their Halloween costumes while waiting for my husband to get home from work in 2018, and someone sent me a message saying they were calling social services on me because I should be “reading to my kids, not taking dumb pictures all day”.
I should have deleted my Instagram when one of my followers made multiple fake profiles to send me messages that said all I ever do is rub my money in people’s faces and will never know what it’s like to be poor. I grew up in poverty with no stable home.
I should have deleted my Instagram when people accused me of lying about my parents being drug addicts because I’m a vegetarian. Not sure what kind of logic that is, but sure…
I should have deleted my Instagram every time I was called ugly, every time my husband was called ugly, every time I was accused of something, every time I was called a bad mom, every time my beliefs were chastised, every time people made me question myself.
I should have deleted my Instagram a long, long time ago.
But I stayed. I wanted to believe that the good in the world could outweigh the bad, and I wanted to believe that I was doing something positive by spreading my love out there. I posted less and less over the last year. I turned my comment sections private so that only my followers could comment. I eventually turned my whole page private. I was trying my hardest to justify continuing to have my page, but after this week, I no longer could. I’m sorry.
Last weekend, I was sent to the ER by my doctor after fainting during a hemorrhage while 8 weeks pregnant. I knew I was miscarrying, like I had done multiple times in the past, but the bleeding was extreme. Obviously, no one wants to be in a hospital during a global pandemic, but I have a genetic anemia that has caused me to need multiple blood transfusions in the past; so I knew I had to go in, after losing that much blood. My husband wasn’t allowed at the hospital with me because of the current virus restrictions, and after hours of tests, IV drips, and being told the baby didn’t make it, I felt deeply alone and desperately needing a friend. I made a mistake that I think a lot of young people make, and I turned to the Internet for that. I posted from the ER about what I was experiencing, and I shamefully sought some kind of comfort from the comment sections in the midst of my chaos. Within minutes of posting, I read everyone’s sincere comments, while sobbing my eyes out; I was just so thankful to have so much support and camaraderie in such a deeply lonely and horrific moment. And then I checked my inbox.
“You have enough kids! There’s more important things in life than breeding like a rabbit”
“Find a better hobby besides being pregnant.”
“Geeze how many kids until you stop?”
The messages went on and on. My chest tightened as I read them, my anxiety went through the roof, and when I thought I couldn’t feel any worse about my current situation, I did. I posted on Instagram in my darkest hour and found myself pushed into further darkness. I deleted my account, and I know that was for the best.
I’m sorry to the people who I let down. I’m sorry to the people who came to my page for a source of inspiration or happiness and now it’s no longer there. I’m struggling to process my miscarriage after trying to conceive for over a year, I’m struggling to process the current state of the world during this viral outbreak, and I’m struggling to process the evil that’s inside of people to make them act the way that they do on the Internet. I don’t know what my future holds, but I do know that I currently don’t want Instagram to be a part of it. Thank you for your friendship over the years. Thank you for those of you who shared so many kind words and messages with me. Thank you for being a part of my family since I created my account in 2012. Yesterday, I turned 30, and though it was a somber day filled with an empty sadness and grief, I am grateful for three decades on this Earth and looking forward to a better year ahead. Be well, friends.