According to my mom, “why” was my first word. It’s a word that has shaped me as a person. As a child I drove countless adults crazy with this word. It’s not like there has ever been concrete, satisfying answers to most of my “whys” but I always had to ask. And I still do. So why am I writing this blog?
Although I’ve made a career out of the written word, I have never been a journal keeper. This fact has never bothered me. Until now. Ponce is closing in on his eleventh month, and shit has time flown. It’s terrifying. I have kept a blog of love letters for Ponce. Those love letters chronicle all that is beautiful about Ponce, about how we came to be his lucky parents. It is where Ponce will one day read about all the beautiful, amazing things that he does. The beautiful, amazing people in his life. It’s the place where he will read only good things about me (his mom), his dad, his extended family, his birth family … It’s where almost everything he’ll ever need to know will be kept.
But life is more complicated than that. And I don’t know yet how I will share all (or any) of the uglier truth’s of Ponce’s adoption with him. Of his birth family history. Of my grief for all he lost before he was even born. I need to work through all that stuff now, before he’s old enough to start asking the questions I most want to make sure I have answers for.
Another very simple truth is that the “other blog” was shared with so many people that I find it very hard to write anything but the happy “adoption is all rainbows and butterflies” stuff. It’s not that this new blog will become my “dark adoption blog” but I do need a space where I don’t have to worry that people who know us will be upset by anything we write or will have information about Ponce or his birth family that they shouldn’t.
So there you have it. I guess that is the very “unconcrete” answer to “why” I’m writing this blog.
As expected, I am not satisfied with my answer. Or with this post for that matter.