The Birth of the Birth of Adventure blog

This is the story of how I dreamed the Birth of Adventure blog into reality, its own birth story if you will.  

In March 2021, a year after the pandemic first reached our WNY community, my beautiful son Ben turned 18.  

Like many parents who celebrate their child’s transition to adulthood, I was in a flurry of emotions.  Pride, love, nostalgia.  Worrying if I had done enough, taught him enough to send him out into the world.  Sweet longing for the days when he was tiny and I was his whole world.

When he was little it felt like time was endless, but now, with highschool graduation looming, I was painfully present to the ticking clock – his time at home with us was slipping away.

For his birthday I wrote him a letter.  In the letter, I wrote about his birth story, and about the profound impact he has had on my life.  By writing to him, I tried to give him a special gift – a glimpse into the magnitude of love that I feel for him, something that so many children (and adults) can’t fathom – the gift of experiencing how deeply he is loved.  

I shared in the letter that Ben tethered me – to him, and to the family we made with his dad and sisters – in a way I had never been tethered before.

In utero we nicknamed Ben “Baby Adventure” (full story in the Baby Adventure blog post), and I spent my pregnancy living in Toronto while Ben’s dad (now my husband David) lived in Hamburg, NY with his two daughters.  The adventure continued as Ben and I immigrated to America – right from the hospital, when Ben was one day old.

I went from being an independent world traveler living in the big city of Toronto to a mom, stepmom and wife in America practically overnight.  The bigger transition for me, more than moving to a new country, more than giving birth, was surrendering to commitment.  As someone who was frequently changing apartments, jobs, relationships, cities and even countries, I was restless.  It was a challenge and a joy to learn to stay in one place, raise a family; grow while settling down.  As my heart grew bigger than it ever had, I became fiercely devoted to my new family.

And now on Ben’s birthday, I sat wondering, after 18 years of settling down and committing to motherhood, what will become of my life when Ben graduates from high school and moves off on his own adventures?  

What surprised me the most was how sad I felt.  It was strange because on the surface it is a happy thing. Kids growing up is a natural and vital part of life.  And knowing too many people who have lost their children, it’s something I don’t take for granted.  Yet this feeling of mourning, of losing, nagged at me.

Ben was going to leave us.  But in truth, the goodbyes and endings had been happening for years as our baby and teenagers kept growing.

I’d said goodbye to:

• little Ben sneaking into our room in the middle of the night and climbing into our bed.
• picking Ben up after his nap, and him falling back asleep, warm and sweaty and snuggly against my chest.  
• Cozy TV nights with the girls that made way for nights out with their friends.
• When Sarah and Hannah graduated from high school, and moved to Syracuse and then Austin, Texas.  We still had phone calls and trips throughout the year, but we’d said goodbye to the dream of having them close, of having regular visits or weekly Sunday night dinners. 

And soon Ben would graduate from high school and set off on his gap year overseas.  Goodbye to Friday pizza and movie nights.  Goodbye to his strong bear hugs.

David came with 2 children when I met him, and I couldn’t imagine what our lives would look like without the hugs, chaos, noise, and laughter that kids bring. 

I was dreading an empty void where the kids had so vibrantly filled space in my day to day.  

As I wrote a mother’s love letter to her child, and shared stories of Ben’s birth and childhood, the moments I’d mourned as lost came alive again.  I’d been counting the waning hours on the ticking clock, my head turned backwards, fearing what was coming.  

What was I afraid of?  Of Ben courageously living his adult life?  Or of really looking at my own?  

In these years of surrendering to mothering, and to family, although I had a fulfilling career, and volunteered, there were parts of me I’d set aside to make room, lying dormant.  My love of travel, of picking up and moving when the whim took me, and setting off for grand adventures.  My love of writing, of telling and sharing stories. 

A main theme of this blog, a lesson learned from losing my parents and brothers and others too young, is that life is short.  Too short to leave passions and dreams dormant. Too short to be looking back with regrets.

I’d been dreading the empty space ahead but what if I looked at it as a precious gift of time waiting for me?  After a year of living in isolation, with cancelled plans and disappointments, I needed something to look forward to.  

And so I started planning a dream trip, something that I wanted.

I set a date in the not too distant future – spring 2022 – for my dream trip to Scotland.  David and I had each visited separately and wanted to go back together.  And I’d recently been tracking my family’s ancestry to the small island of Coll – I wanted to see this tiny island with more sheep than people where my ancestors had lived for hundreds of years.  

As enthusiasm and energy filled me with something so wonderful to look forward to: the food, the sea, the mountains! (and for Outlander friends, Jamie!), I knew I was ready to start writing again.  I wanted to share stories of travel, adventure, family, life and even death.  Stories to help and inspire living fully, intentionally and courageously.

I put the Birth of Adventure blog into existence by sharing my goal with friends, and asking my niece Molly to help me with the design and setting up the site.

I would love for these stories to be read, and to be of help to others.  But even if not, it will make a difference for me as a creative outlet and way to connect with family and friends worldwide.  

And as I mentioned about life being short, I also hope for it to be a historical record of my life on this planet that my grandchildren and great-grandchildren might enjoy.

For Ben, I’m learning that loving and holding tight aren’t the same thing.  I’ll miss seeing him every day but I’m proud of who he is and I think the most important thing I can do for him as his mom right now is to help him feel confident and free to pursue his own path.  And it helps for him to see me pursuing mine too.

Now off to the next adventure!