My approach to blogging is to write when something is going on that I need to work through or when a musing or occurrence inspires me. I find both the physical aspect of sitting down at my laptop to type and the mental aspect of organizing my thoughts to be cathartic. In recent weeks, I also feel like my writings may have caused whiplash. From languishing over our domestic adoption wait, to finding and communicating with my birth mother, to the estrangement with my parents (whom I’ve not seen or spoken to since Christmas day), to embarking on a donated embryo cycle (seemingly from out of the blue), to coming to terms with remaining a family of three should this (these?) deFETs not prove successful. It all gives way to my blogger identity crisis.
The majority of my posts over the last two years have been about wanting to complete our family, deciding to adopt, moving through the adoption process, going live with our agency, and being angst ridden about the wait, month after month. Most of the blogs I read are from other adoption bloggers whether waiting or on the other side. The ‘secret’ FB groups and members-only Yahoo groups I belonged to were adoption related (past tense as I left or unsubscribed from all of them over the weekend).
I don’t know, maybe there is something about the aging process that lends itself to more easily navigating concurrent life stressors in a more manageable way. Certainly, I have better coping mechanisms and wisdom. And, that I am not working has been both a blessing (I don’t have the added pressure of having to produce or perform professionally) and a curse (I don’t have the distraction that working outside of the home provides). There is an underlying “shit, this is a lot at one time” feeling but I am strangely OK with it. In my younger years, I would have been in a funkified funk, pushed over the edge and into a vat of Chunky Monkey or Cheetos having to deal with just one of the current balls I have up in the air.
Above all, I am filled with such gratitude. Yes, I wish the situation with my parents was different, but it is not something that I can change and I recognize that. I have found my birth mother, something many adult adoptees of closed adoptions are never able to do and I am communicating with her. I know more now than I did when I hadn’t confirmed who she was. I am so grateful for this gift of certainty and closure, regardless of how guarded she is in our communications. I love my husband and his flexibility and willingness to take these many journeys with me. He is the perfect mate for me and I am reminded of that particularly in times of struggle. I love and am abundantly grateful for my son. I garner a strength from just being his mother that supports and propels me through these challenges. It is NEVER lost on me, the many who are still struggling to have their ‘one’ and how much I root for them to realize the dream of motherhood no matter what path leads them there.
I sometimes wish things in my life were more linear, but that has never been the case. I am trying to do my best and make the most sound decisions I can with the cards I’ve been dealt. Being grateful, win or lose, buoys me when I might otherwise sink.
“As each day comes to us refreshed and anew, so does my gratitude renew itself daily.
The breaking of the sun over the horizon is my grateful heart dawning upon a blessed world.”