It was April, 2000. I was newly pregnant and I had an absolutely miserable cold. I was sniffling, sneezing and I was pretty sure that my head was going to explode. Of course, it was after hours for my obgyn, so I couldn't ask him whether I could take Sudafed. I hadn't told anyone other than my husband that I was pregnant, I wasn't showing, but I was full scale preggo paranoid. So having no one in person to ask, I did what we all do now .... I turned to the internet. After a few searches and clicks and clacks, I happened upon a series of "expecting clubs" at a major baby/pregnancy website. The expecting clubs were arranged by month. Those with babies due in May of 2000 formed one group, those due in June 2000 formed another, etc, etc, all the way out to the newbies like me due in November 2000 - who in April were just a smidge over 2 months pregnant. I found that the expecting groups each had hundreds, if not a thousand plus members. I began to browse the November 2000 group. Finding many kindred (read: pregnant) souls, I decided to register and post my question. Can I take Sudafed while pregnant? I don't recall the answer. But I do know that's how it began. The amazing journey that has changed my life and so many other lives.
As the months wore on, as November of 2000 approached, more and more women found the November 2000 expecting club. There were hundreds of members, some who posted frequently, others who lurked and everything in between. As summer rolled around, we posted our excitement at so many milestones like the first flutters of the baby kicking - especially us first timers like me, and we collectively relied on the wisdom of the others, some of whom were having their 5th baby in some cases.
We commiserated over our discomforts - reflux, swollen ankles, aching backs, and swapped home remedies. Whatever the complaint, all of us women understood. We truly understood because there is something universal about the experience of being pregnant and especially being so exactly-the-same-amount-pregnant as we all were. We talked about our bodies, about our partners, about our friends, about our jobs, about our other children, about breastfeeding, about pretty much any and everything. We especially enjoyed discussing the boorishness of the men in our lives who didn't understand that sometimes we needed, yes NEEDED spaghetti and sugar cookies at 11:30 pm. And that yes, he needed to leave the house and get these items. RIGHT. NOW! We understood, the November 2000 sisterhood.
As the months progressed, we planned our nurseries, bought clothes, had baby showers, and began to literally count the days until our due dates. Our very first November 2000 baby, Shelby, arrived in October 2000. Lots of other babies then began to follow in quick succession, with our last Nov00 baby coming sometime in mid December. Mine came along exactly on his due date of November 2nd, for which I was grateful, as I watched the agony of other Nov00 mommies waiting and waiting past their due dates with swollen bellies and aching bodies. But eventually of course, we all became Nov00 mommies, not just expectant mommies.
The website that administered the expecting clubs then changed over the groups after the due date month passed to be "playgroups". So we became the November 2000 playgroup, or just Nov00 to all of us. Members continued to find us over the first year especially and the group probably reached 1,200-1,500 registered members at its peak. But as the years wore on, the group shrunk - natural attrition. So after a few years of being a playgroup on the public website, we decided to take the group to a private website that was password protected and invite only. There were probably about 100-120 of us at that point who were active and were still interested in reading or posting to the group. I volunteered to adminstrate the website and the whole group moved to a private site.
This turned out to be an amazingly positive thing because the privacy afforded to us on the new website - unfound by google, impossible to access without an invite only username and password - which were controlled by us - allowed us to talk. To really talk. About life. About things that mattered. We opened up about our lives in ways that we never had before. We revealed our marital problems, our health problems, our fears, our pasts, our dreams, our victories, our fall flat on our faces humiliations. And we were there for each other. It was a bit odd because the vast majority of us had (and still have not) met in person. So the somewhat anonymous feel that gives, allows one to open up in ways you wouldn't perhaps, with a casual friend over coffee. Its safe to say something on a computer screen. But yet, on the flip side, precisely because of that, we felt more bonded to each than people who we'd known as life long in person friends.
It has now been 11 years since the formation of the November 2000 Expecting Club, then the November 2000 Playgroup, now we are just Nov00. There are about 40 of us left that form the Nov00 mommies. Plus one guy. There is a sole daddy who was accepted by all the moms and stuck it out with us. He is the spouse of a Nov00 mommy, and is every bit as much a member as any other mom.
Sarah is a Nov00 mommy. I am a Nov00 mommy. When one of us sick, we rally to their side. When one of us is sad, we rush to support her. When one of us succeeds, we all clap and shout louder than anyone else. We have experienced almost everything that life has to throw at us collectively. We have experienced divorce, death of a spouse, death of a parent, disability of a child, a near fatal car accident, miscarriages, mental health crises, health crises, cancer, stillbirth, job losses, abuse, and now we are facing the thing we never thought we would have to face: the death of one of us. A Nov00 mommy will become a Nov00 mommy angel soon, very soon.
Sarah has fought a heroic, valiant and dare I say, kick-ass, battle against breast cancer for 4 years now. She has a son Ben who is a Nov00 baby. She has another son Sam who is 2 years younger. Her husband is Alan. All of them will lose her, as will we. As will all of the friends, acquaintences and people she has touched in her tragically short life. So to those who ask?
I have never met Sarah in person. But Sarah is my friend. Sarah is a mother. Sarah is a wife. Sarah is a daughter. Sarah is a niece. Sarah is a friend to so many. Sarah is going to be gone from the earth soon but she will never, ever, EVER, be gone.
May her children and husband find peace and comfort somehow from knowing the Nov00 mommies are deep in mourning with them.
Godspeed Sarah.
alansarahblog.blogspot.com
