I just wanted to start writing to see what would come. To put my fingers on the clickity clackity keys and let my mind release words I didn’t know needed to be free. The isolation that comes from being a writer is silence I crave and loneliness I loath. The idea that I could sit for hours and create in solitaire is dreamy and haunting. The coffee sitting next to me was appealing enough to get me to start.
As I close the last chapter of my first book, “A Seemingly Unfillable Heart,” I look back on this journey with great pride. It took months for me to figure out my writing style, and what worked for me. I studied fellow authors and their strategies— hourglass time limits, words per day, morning writer vs. nighttime writing, and free hand. In the end, I found a combination of what helped me release some deep emotions about becoming a birth mother.
At the root, my story does not differ from any other birth mother’s tale— the same heartache, loss, grief, sadness, and longing ooze from our fingertips.
The years of wondering and questioning are the same. The connection to a child, a child that was a part of you, is the same. My heart never forgot my child. Yes, I could have masked it with whatever worldly distraction I could find, but the hole where she was meant to be would still exist; whether I acknowledged it or not.
I am eager to share my adoption story, in its entirety, with the world. I can only hope that my words will touch those who live within the triad of adoption, and also those who know life with grief. One resounding statement that keeps echoing in my head this morning is this:
You are loved! You are of worth!
You were not forgotten or given away.
We ALL play a role in the Universe.
We all are brought here to guide, learn, teach, inspire, grow, search, and lead.
You are loved.
I do not have release dates for “A Seemingly Unfillable Heart.” I am waiting for feedback from my team of editors. If you or someone you know has experience writing a book and being published, please send them my way. Most days I feel as if I’m blindfolded walking this author life, and any guidance would be much appreciated.
My heart goes out to my fellow birth mothers, and friends, no other soul could comprehend the experience we have all had. My journey is just that “mine,” and I don’t pretend to speak for us all, but what I do wish is to shed light on the process of adoption through the eyes of one birth mother, one story, to educate and inspire others to tell their stories!