Everything I said in the 400th post still applies: how grateful I am to have this community, how incredible it is to count among friends people from so many pathways, to listen to your stories, to feel heard in sharing mine. This connection over fiber is amazing -- I bring you into my cluttered desk filled with piles of books, papers, and embarrassingly outdated pictures of me and Bryce, and I get to visit you wherever your laptop/phone/desktop brings you.
I appreciate everyone who comes to visit here, and who communicate their thoughts on my thoughts. Whether we agree or disagree, I appreciate your thoughts, your questions, your challenges. I love when you pop up to tell me you've been reading for a while but haven't commented, and I find out that I have friends, commiserators, supporters in such far away places as England and Kazakhstan. I love when you share your own stories in response to my thoughts. I know there are people who read and don't comment, and I appreciate you, too!
I know it's not easy, living this twisty journey with me. It can be depressing to not see much progress in our seven years of trying to have a family. Maybe it is emotionally draining in some way to be a bystander. Maybe there is some empathetic atrophy that comes with witnessing heartbreak after heartbreak, and after a while it's hard to follow the story because of your own feelings, or not knowing what to say when I make it so clear which things aren't quite as helpful as others.
I love the growing number of you that stick through it though -- who read the easy posts and the hard ones, the ones that may be difficult to hear as a person who was successful at some point, or who never had to go down this journey at all. It is difficult. It is difficult to live this, to see people come and go, to see pathways pass us by, to readjust our sails so many times and never quite make it to port.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for the conversation. Thank you for the support. Thank you for hugging me (and/or calling me out) when I'm bitter, holding me in your hearts when I cry, cheering when there is good news. Thank you for allowing me to show all the parts of infertility and adoption and different paths to resolution -- the educational processes, the emotional pieces, and the ugly bits that can surface when life is difficult. It shows the full picture. Infertility and adoption are messy, and emotional, and bring up conflicted feelings. It is such a gift to have a community to hold hands with as I wade through it all, and as you wade through your own journey...whatever that might be.
Here's to another 100 posts. Here's to the possibility of becoming a mom somewhere in that number. Here's to figuring out how to navigate what's next through the words that I type, words that hopefully resonate and bring hope, understanding, and compassion to the people who read them.