This has been a roller coaster of a year. I’m not saying it’s been bad. It hasn’t been great, either. But it’s been an adventure.
2014 began for me in completely different spaces — both physical (Seattle) and virtual (From IF to When). Leaving From IF to When was difficult for me. This was the space that I had called my blog home since 2008. It was a space that saw me through trying to conceive, my infertility diagnosis, infertility treatments, cancer scares, winning the Hope Award, our adoption wait, the birth of our daughter, her recovery in the NICU, and more than the first year of her life. It was a space where I met many friends in the community, some of whom I’m still in close contact with today. However, for a number of reasons, circumstances led me to feel no longer comfortable in that space. So, I came here — a place named after a line in one of my favorite books. A place where I could feel more at peace with both my writing and with myself.
I haven’t written as much this year, in my new, virtual home. That’s okay. I’m okay with this. Instead, I’ve spent a lot of time reading other spaces and reflecting on my blogging life thus far, and I’ve written when I felt compelled to. Not when others wanted or needed me to. Not when trying to give in to any pressures or obligations. I’ve been focused on being me, and — that said — I leave 2014 feeling more comfortable in this new blogging home. I do hope to write more in 2015. It’s not a goal or a resolution. It’s simply a desire to have more time and energy to convey some of my thoughts in this space where I finally feel free again.
2014 also began for me in a different physical location. I love Seattle. I miss it, and I think I always will. I feel that I can speak for Joey and admit that he feels the same. I don’t regret moving out there one bit. I don’t regret moving back to try and adopt our daughter’s half sibling. And I don’t regret that the adoption of that little boy fell through. Regret is pointless, and I certainly don’t believe in dwelling on mistakes — or perceived mistakes. (Another line in my favorite book, tattooed on my back, reminds me of this: The mistakes I’ve made are dead to me. But I can’t take back the things I never did.) I can’t turn back time, and even if I could, I’m not sure I would change anything. Living through the highs and lows of that experience sucked. Royally. It was a loss, no doubt about it. Yet, it also gave me perspective and strength.
This year also taught me patience. Dealing with a two-year-old requires a lot of that. I haven’t been a perfect parent. Odds are, I never will be, but I’ve tried my hardest . . . most of the time. I’ve learned that some things aren’t worth fussing over, and that potty training is as difficult and time consuming as I expected it to be (I’m still living this!). I’ve also learned that, while I miss the baby years and always will, seeing my daughter’s face light up across the playground after school and hearing her yell, “MOMMY!” gives me as many warm and fuzzy feelings (if not more) than cuddling her as a newborn. She is the biggest reason why I can’t sit here and write that 2014 was bad. It was challenging, yes, but no year will ever be bad with her in it. I watched her conquer so much in 2014: from saying hundreds of new words, to learning her colors, to transitioning to a “big girl bed.” She is the light on my darkest of days — even in those moments when she’s as challenging as ever.
Looking ahead, I’m excited to see what the new year brings for me and for my family. I hope for stability. I hope for easy and carefree. But, most of all, I hope to enjoy every peak on this next roller coaster ride and not dwell too much on the valleys. And I hope for these things for each and every one of you, as well.
Wishing you love, peace, and a very happy and healthy new year.