Wednesday, July 8, 2009

In the interest of full disclosure (not-strong, not-brave)

I want to let you in on a little secret. Well, it might not be a secret. Maybe some of you know this secret or have guessed it. But sometimes I feel guilty when I am told that I am being very "strong" or "brave" while we wait and get passed on by potential first moms, one after another.

I'm not. I hate it. It is really hard to cope some days, especially when there is an email #2 from Liz that arrives halfway through a workday and I still have four or five hours of work to go before I can go home and fall to pieces.

I just don't usually blog about it.

See, I'm writing a story here. Like all good stories this one has a lot of truth to it. It is chock full of truth. But, like all good stories, there is just enough fiction to keep the protagonist(s) of the tale bearable, interesting, and sympathetic to the readers. Since I am the protagonist, I like to write myself as just a little better than real-life-me actually is. A little braver, a little stronger, a little more okay with the way things are going. I don't lie, absolutely not. I just edit. I leave out a dark mood here, add in a little ray of hope there. I allow real-life-me to just rest and put on the perspective of the novelist/historian/writer. How do you want this day to be remembered? Blogger-me asks real-me. Together we look at everything, and keep the good stuff. It's a neat trick.

I'm thinking of my readership. I know most of you out there would tolerate a little more darkness from me. No offense, but you're not the readers I'm worried about. There are two people who will read this blog someday whose sympathy and respect are of paramount importance to me. You can guess who one of them is - my darling as-yet hypothetical little one, of course. Because littles grow into bigs, or so I'm told, and rumor has it the internet lasts forever. I want that future heart-of-my-heart to read this and know how much I longed to know him or her. But not so much how much ice cream I ate, or how hard it was to get out of bed the day after someone else's first-mom didn't pick me.

But perhaps my most important reader is me. Future-me, of course, who will come back and read this sometimes late at night, maybe while rocking a baby. Or maybe she will will be too tired and will forget about the archives and then one day after her little one has gone off to a first day at school or a long day at grandma's house she'll click through to the old adoption blog. Maybe it'll happen when she's waiting, again, for baby #2.

Regardless, I want her story to be a good one, so most days I leave the bad stuff out.

It's there though. In the gritty every day now I'm not so brave, and I'm really not so strong.

Its amazing how quickly the ugly stuff evaporates, though, if I don't bother to write it down.

7 comments:

  1. Adoption is really hard, and even when one has a great attitude, it is full of intense anxiety and sorrow, and eventually joy. It's the eventually part that is so hard to wait for. Your reflections of how you and your child will think about this blog in the future are wise. It is out there forever, it seems, and it is your story and your child's story you are chronicaling.

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  2. Thank you for your brave honesty. I know just what you mean.

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  3. I too write with the little one's future eyes in mind... I think that's neccesary and smart. Also, not giving a voice to the darkness does help it seem less important once it's passed...

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  4. I still think you are brave and strong...

    I love your blog and your honestly and you will come back and read this. I actually just went back and re-read mine. The last months being preggo and the first few weeks at home with Dom. I was bawling like a baby. You will too. You'll love being able to read about all the emotions you had while waiting for your baby. And you'll laugh about reading how he/she starting cooing or laughing or sucking on their toes!

    I'm so happy for you and I appreciate you letting me follow along on your journey.

    And Beth - You are very brave and strong. And by not venting about it, you're only proving it more.

    I love you!

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  5. Being brave and strong doesn't mean that you don't fall to pieces. It means that after you fall to pieces, you pull the pieces back together and begin again, knowing full well that they all might break apart again tomorrow.

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  6. I wonder if it is a good thing that I was not blogging with our first adoption. The wait was tough. Very tough. Very ugly. We would hear from our caseworker about the number of times our profile had been sent out, and yet no match. Very tough. Very ugly. I am not sure how I would have written about it, about me and my emotions at that time. Perhaps it would have helped - a "how do I want to view this day" perspective might have been therapeutic. As raw and as easy as those emotions are remembered, it is still the wait that brought us and our child together. It is a part of the story. It is important. I do hope you read this late at night, with your child in your arms. It is your story.

    Be kind to your self. It is okay to not always have strong and brave days through this process.
    Rebecca

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  7. I'm so glad I found you - I've been doing more reading! I can so totally relate to getting those rejection emails. Our agency only does it that way. We ALWAYS know when our profile is being shown which is so incredibly hard to go through time and time again. Your emotions are all over the place, so up and down. And it's really hard to not imagine you with baby when you know someone is looking at your info. However, I have become much more cynical after each rejection. It's getting harder to see myself with any baby and have hope for a family in the end.

    I wish you well with your journey.

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