It feels like more than just three years ago that I created this space as an outlet to help me process my uncertain future. A place to sit quietly and think, to write the things I could not say, to form words when my thoughts were muddled. A place to connect with others who understood.
Three years ago when I started telling my story here, I had no idea what my life would look like today. I sat on the edge of hope, of despair, looking out over the abyss and pondering an uncertain future. Within six months, after the last of our treatments had failed, we had shifted our focus to building our family through adoption.
Two years ago, on this same day, was the first time we heard from Kaye. She was 16 weeks pregnant. After a week of email exchanges, we agreed to meet on the winter solstice. A week later, she asked the question that would forever change our lives.
One year ago, we had an amazing six month old baby girl in our lives. We were navigating through the complexities of a relatively new open adoption, feeling our way. I was about to return to work part time. My mother was teetering on the edge of death. We weren’t sleeping much. Yet we were grateful.
This past year I haven’t written as much as I’d like. After writing a couple of posts a week (100 per year), lately I haven’t been able to get to more than a few posts a month. Work, life and the need to sleep all seem to interfere with my free time. Also, my story is not solely my own these days, so I am unable to share as much as I might have before. Often I compose posts in my head and never make the time to write them. Instead I pop on twitter, scrolling through quick updates and sharing a sentence or two at a time in mere seconds, rather than sitting down to form a cohesive series of thoughts.
Still. This space is sacred to me. I am so grateful for what it has offered me, i.e., support when I needed it, affirmation that I was not alone, understanding when I could find it nowhere else. For that, I thank you. I treasure what a tremendously therapeutic outlet this space has been. I am grateful how it has opened doors, enabling me to welcome new ideas and new friends into my life. Real friends. Friends who know my heart, even if they don’t know my last name.
I am privileged to have learned from others as they share their own stories, their challenges and triumphs, their joys and sorrows.
Indeed, telling stories is not only a way to process significant events in our lives. It’s how we share a piece of our very selves. It’s how we celebrate our humanity, the beauty and the tragedy. And through the powerful act of witness, we can know that we are not alone.