writing

“When I am writing, my problems become invisible, and I am the same person I always was. All is well. I am as I should be.”

~Roger Ebert

Dear readers,

April has nearly come and gone without a post to celebrate the 4th anniversary of my blog. On April 13, 2009, Pampers and Pakhlava went live. Today’s post marks the 382nd time I’ve hit the “Publish” button. With an estimated average of 400 words per post, I’ve written over 152,800 words! When I started this blog, one of my personal goals was to write more. I am happy to report: writing has become a habit.

I also wanted my blog to offer readers a peek into a tiny country, Armenia, located in the Caucasus region of the world, where Europe borders Asia. I admit I had a certain bias, because Armenia was the country where my husband and I hoped to adopt a child. Four years since Pampers and Pakhlava first appeared on the web, “Where is Armenia?” is one of the most consistently searched for key word phrases on Wanderlust and Lipstick , the website my blog calls home. Lucky me to be a blogger on one of the most heavily trafficked women’s travel sites that provides inspiration and information for and by women!

Of course, the “pampers” in my title refers to one of the biggest goals I’ve had in my life: become a mom. Getting there, however, did not play out–in any way, shape, or form–as I imagined it would. The journey began much later in life than I ever expected, took more years than I envisioned, and involved countless hurdles that were unforeseen. But get there I did–we did. With Big Papa by my side, and now with Baby Bird as our sidekick, we are a family!

Just like my blog bio says: “Some might fend off a mid-life crisis by leaving the comforts of their corporate salary to jet off to a deserted island. Others might buy a Jaguar. I’ve chosen to dive head-long into my 50s and beyond by becoming a first-time parent. I’ve traveled halfway around the world (several times) before adopting my daughter, and now I share my musings about life with a toddler in the Pacific Northwest.”

Admittedly, my path in life has been anything but predictable, smooth or on schedule. And while this has caused me a fair bit of angst, finding myself on unexpected and unfamiliar terrain has also made me the person I am today. With every curve in the road comes a greater understanding of the world I live in, the people who share it with me, and–most importantly–myself.

Take the road less traveled,

Beth

Author’s note: Pampers and Pakhlava first posted on April 13, 2009…six months ago today!

I started this blog because I figured that when all was said and done I’d have a recording of what happened, how it happened and when it happened to share with our child. Along the way, I thought I might explore what felt like to become a mom at 50. And, since my blog appears in a women’s travel website, I knew I’d be able to showcase photos and travel experiences that feature a country few people adopt from, travel to or even know much about.

Writing about adoption in a travel website was daunting. Nearly three decades had passed since I’d been overseas. In my dreams, I’m traveling the world, but in the light of day I could rarely afford to get much farther than my own back yard. I imagined most of the Wanderlust and Lipstick readers were, well, wanderers. Whether they traveled solo, with kids, or to exotic locales they were all likely headed somewhere farther than the living room sofa.

When I began blogging, I didn’t have a clue if anyone other than family and close friends would crack my blog open. Even if my readership was comprised of just those near and dear, telling tales of my inner-most angst left me with a feeling of prickly anxiousness. What would it be like to publicly divulge the roller coaster chain of events and Pandora’s Box of emotions that go hand-in-hand with adoption? Not to mention my own insecurities about tackling motherhood at midlife.

Faced with a veritable hip-deep list of what-if-I-do, I reminded myself of the high cost to what-if-I-don’t. Since I was a little girl, in my head I’ve concocted books for children, memoirs and assorted homage to family members and significant friends. I’ve oft promised myself that tomorrow, no next week I’ll put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and anchor these stories.

Here I was, looking square in the face, at an opportunity to do what I’ve longed to do. Plus there would be deadlines. Beth asked for at least two posts a week. Since I’m the kind of gal who tries to fulfill my obligations, it seemed like a good motivator to get my fingers moving and keep them doing so on a consistent basis.

I took a deep breath and jumped in. I’ve never been much of a journal writer, though I wish I was. I haven’t been published (yet) in a magazine. I have done my fair share of scholarly writing (read: term papers and two masters theses) and I did spend twenty years in the field of training and development where I wrote and edited training manuals and developed classes. Writing about me, however, is a brand new gig.

The sheer act of writing is meditative for me, like cooking which I also adore. First I imagine the recipe. Next I gather the ingredients. Then I set about the business of putting it all together. My brain enjoys writing. Putting form to my ideas feels like finding the puzzle piece with the teardrop shape that fits in the upper right hand corner just so.

Blogging also creates an opportunity to insert photographs into my posts. I’ve been passionate about photography since childhood, when I saw the magic in my father’s darkroom. I snapped my first shot with a Kodak Brownie and haven’t stopped taking pictures since.

Six months into this venture, I’m smitten with writing. I lose myself in it. I craft posts in the shower and in my spinning classes at the gym. I hear a song, read an article or the air smells a certain way and my mind starts churning. There is a thread between my heart and my head where words and images percolate. Out topples a tale. Of late, I find it hard to imagine not writing.

The blog has helped me work through the sturm und drang of our adoption journey. Before, some issue would get stuck in my craw and fester into a big raw psychic wound. Now I write about it and set it free. Sometimes it sets me free too.

Even though I post what I write on a website, writing is a solitary pursuit. That people read my blog, and tell me it resonates with them, is a source of tremendous joy. I didn’t imagine complete strangers might “find” me, follow my blog or send notes sharing their experiences. I’ve been deeply touched by the support I’ve received after writing emotionally difficult posts and it’s exhilarating, in the short time I’ve been writing, to be mentioned in magazines like Adoptive Families.

I started this blog because I figured that when all was said and done I’d have a recording of what happened, how it happened and when it happened to share with our child. What the wind blew in turned out to be another story altogether.