02 May 2010

My voice...

I'm a talker.

No doubt about it. I have the gift of gab...for the most part.

But when it comes to talking about the adoption, my feelings about the adoption, or any issues relating to adoption...I often find myself having an almsot impossible time articulating my thoughts verbally.

It's awful.

People - family, friends, colleagues - all very often and very kindly ask about how things are going...is there any news? any updates?...and I find myself saying things like, "We're just waiting right now. We've done every single thing that we need to do and now we just wait."

To this answer I usually get an "Ah" or a sympathetic "I'm sure you'll hear something soon" or even the "How long do people usually wait?" and then I trot out a "Yeah" or a "I hope we'll hear something soon" or finally a "There's no real usual wait time. Every adoption is so different."

Sometimes I want to say more and just can't. The words won't come. I cannot seem to articulate to other people in everyday conversation what's on my mind. Or maybe the words would come if I let them, but part of me realizes that other people would not necessarily know how to respond or would be very uncomfortable if I mentioned my fears about buying things for the baby now.

Hence - this blog.

Somehow here in this space I can articulate in writing my hopes, my fears, my joys, my frustrations, my whatever in regards to our impending adoption when I can't get the words out in real life.

Not that this is always a good thing. I mean - it is - this is the place that I turn to when I need to "get it all out," but sometimes it would certainly be more convenient if I could just spew it all out in conversation - especially with the people who are closest to me...husband, parents, good friends. It feels ridiculous to say to them, "Just read the d@#$ blog!" when they ask an innocent question and I know that I've just written about that, but don't feel comfortable talking about it.

Sometimes someone will ask a question that starts all kinds of stuff percolating in my head, but, again, the words won't come right away in that conversation. A few hours later or even a few days or weeks later I find myself with my laptop in my lap and my fingers clackering away answering the question belatedly. Sometimes it just feels too belatedly to start up the conversation again in real life.

Maybe this is the joy and the danger of blogging.

The blog gives me a safe place to share my thoughts, but sometimes I wonder if it also is the thing that robs me of my voice.


  1. The thing about a blog is that it's one-stop writing. You get it out. It's tedious to have one conversation after another about the same topic, so of course you'd rather say it once and tell people to read the blog. There's only one of you in this experience and many interested, caring people in your life.

    I stopped talking about getting pregnant and writing about my hopes after the second miscarriage. I didn't tell family about the pregnancy with Sunshine Girl until week 12, and the world didn't know (via blog or in person) until week 20.

    You're not losing your voice. You're sparing it, so you can shout from the rooftops when the baby arrives.

  2. What a nice re-frame of my worries, Kathryn. Thank you.