Birth Story Writing Workshop

I almost didn't pick up the most recent issue of Minnesota Parent magazine because it was the "maternity issue."  I'm not pregnant and never will be again and therefore really wasn't interested in reading about maternity fashion or the best products to include on your baby registry.  But the magazine was free, so I grabbed a copy on my way home with the kids and flipped through it while they ate their snack.  The maternity issue ended up having something for me after all - details about an upcoming birth story writing workshop. 

As an adoptive parent who knows virtually no details about my children's births, I'm probably one of a kind in wanting to write about an event I didn't experience. However, I believe everyone has a story to tell and I was determined to tell that story, even if it wasn't going to be a traditional birth story. 

Our instructor gave us a series of writing exercises to jog our memories and help us build the pieces of our stories.  I skipped over any of the sections about pregnancy and focused my the questions I felt were applicable to the story I was able to tell, such as my expectations for the birth adoption versus the reality or the sounds, sights, smells, feelings and touch I experienced during delivery meeting our children for the first time in a government office on the other side of the world.  I surprised myself that the words came easily and kept scribbling in my notebook until we moved on to the next section.  I will always mourn the details I don't know about my children's births and I feel guilty that I don't have the stories to share with Kiera and Matteo like I do with Oliver and Soren.  Despite what I simply don't know, I discovered I have a lot to write about.  There's a lot more to a birth story than a delivery.  The workshop inspired me to write their stories as I know them, to write about the frustrations and determination during the long "paper chase," the surprise and happiness I felt when I learned we were having a girl, followed by the feeling of despair only to find out we were being blocked from becoming her parents, the uncontrolled smiles when I saw a photo of my son for the first time, the sadness I felt saying goodbye to Oliver and Soren the day we left for China, the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of their birth country, sleuthing for clues to the details of their births, and that long plane ride home. 

Everyone has a story.  Everyone has a birth story.  This is theirs.