We’re expecting
If there’s one thing this so-called blog is not, it is reliable, and that embarrasses me somewhat.
As a daily user of the Internet, I get frustrated with sites that go for long stretches without updating. They remind me of the vacant storefronts along Lorain Avenue. Sure, no one else has a better idea about what to do with this chunk of virtual real estate I occupy, but long periods of disuse suggest that the landlord’s a belly-scratching, stogie-chomping land speculator.
So to begin defensively, I’d like to say that the long hiatus I’ve taken from posting to this blog corresponds with a period of unprecedented behind-the-scenes productivity. Behind the boarded-up windows, our family has been hard at work rehabbing the interior, in preparation for a grand re-opening.
Early last spring, my husband, John, and I finally answered a question that we had been asking ourselves in one form or another for over fifteen years. In its simplest form, the question amounted to, “If not us, who?” and the answer led us to begin the process of applying to adopt two children from the state foster care system. As that process began, this process of recording my parenting experiences ended, at least temporarily.
Ever since I began publishing personal essays about my family, I have thought of them as letters to my children. These essays were my way of letting them know that I was trying to parent mindfully, and that I cared enough about the job I was doing to open my mothering to some measure of public scrutiny. As a result of sharing our family’s experiences through the Mama Says newsletter, this blog, and a monthly column in the Plain Press, I have received support and constructive criticism from neighbors and friends. All of that ends up benefiting my kids.
But writing about the beginning stages of preparing for adoption didn’t really feel right. For one thing, we could change our minds and decide against adoption. In that case, this blog would have become letters to children not chosen. While documenting the process of considering but deciding against adoption might have value to someone, it seemed inconsistent with my objectives.
And making regular postings to the blog without mentioning adoption also would have presented problems. Sure, our day-to-day experiences with Ned and Audrey would have continued to supply a wealth of topics, but to avoid mentioning the daily work of preparing to adopt would have been to step awkwardly around the proverbial elephant in the room. Better not to write, I thought, than to make a point of leaving that part out.
For a couple reasons, I’ve been rethinking. We’ve quite recently moved from the stage where we were merely preparing to the stage where we are waiting. The difference is less subtle than it might sound. But we could still decide that we aren’t really as ready to welcome two more kids as we had hoped. Harder still, we could go a very long time without being matched to waiting children. After placement, we could have a very difficult time bonding with our kids, or making the changes we need to make to help them feel at home here. It could be very awkward or very painful or very much worse than either of those things. All of this argues in favor of continuing to maintain silence on this blog.
But then there’s this:
Last month, shortly before their due date, our friends Piet and Martha launched a blog to document their baby’s birth and to share news and photos with friends. They had expected a baby right around Christmas day, they had planned for a home birth, they had hoped for a labor that was smooth and reasonably brief. They got none of those things. The baby was finally born in a hospital by caesarian section after 50 hours of exhausting labor, more than ten days after her due date.
It’s all fine. Mama and daughter are healthy and happy to be home. My point here is obvious: it could have been not fine. In beginning the blog and posting to it regularly all through their difficult passage, Piet and Martha took a chance that they would be sharing much more than they originally intended. They acted on faith that one way or another, their story would be a joyful one. As a result, their daughter will have precious documentation of how her parents parented before they ever saw her face.
Not only that, the baby blog went a long way toward connecting their child to her new community and extended family. Sharing news from the blog was, for those few weeks, a regular element in all neighborly chitchat, and encouraging comments were posted daily by family and friends near and very, very far.
The children that could be ours are living their lives somewhere already, probably nearby. We may pass them on the street. When we finally meet them, I’d like to be able to show them similar evidence of how much they were wanted, how carefully we prepared ourselves and our home for their arrival, how their community waited with us. And how much faith we had that our story would turn out to be a happy one, too.