Man, I’ve really be posting. Of course, now that I’ve written that – I’ll totally slack off and won’t post again until March. Or, y’know, not.
Earlier today, my father wrote some comments on this blog. I was hoping that my parents wouldn’t find this space – which is why I moved from my original Me & My Diet Coke a while back. At the time, when all of this was still new – when K and I were still meandering through fertility options and the implausibility of getting pregnant – I didn’t want them to know what I was going through. It was too special, too precious, too new for any mean comments.
Now? I’m big ole momma bear, and let me tell you… Nothing is going to shake me. In one of the comments (which I deleted because it was so filled with crazy rambling I decided to spare you) he derides the fact that I have a duct taped family. I do – in fact – have a woven family, a chosen family. Made up of my husband, my father’s parents, my mother’s sisters, and the huge and loving K family… we’ve cobbled together something that works: a family that’s healthy and strong and loving.
I love my duct taped family. I love how we continue to grow. I love that I know – no matter what – that they love me. That unconditional love thing is what sets it all apart – my family of origin doesn’t have it.
K wrote to me, after reading the rambling message, that he wanted to make t-shirts for us all: the duct tape crew. He also pointed out that people who go through something like I did often reassemble their beliefs and expectations into something new. They grow. I wouldn’t trade my life for anything. I grew up in a set of circumstances beyond my control. I made mistakes; I failed; I succeeded beyond my wild imagination. The difficulties I faced – both from my environment and of my own making turned me into the woman I am today.
My daughter will know my duct taped family. She will be loved for exactly who she is. She will not want for a sense of family – duct taped or no. She will never live on the type of shaky ground I experienced, wondering if her parents loved her for her or what she could do. I wouldn’t trade this family for anything. Duct tape makes us stronger because we are not just united by a shared genetic history, but because we actually want to be a family.
So, um, moral of the story? Hurtful comments will not be posted or acknowledged. Anger can find no purchase here. My life is beautiful, and I have the strength to keep it that way.