It’s been almost a year I have had a gift. A precious gift of being home with our kids. And a gift that I treated like a curse. Not because I don’t love being home. I ADORE being at home! I hate to even think of putting them back in daycare. We have a system, a rhythm, fun… sure I get frustrated, sure I crave alone time, but I love being home and I love exactly how this past year has gone.
These two have been through more in their sweet little lives than most go through in a lifetime. They have experienced trauma, confusion and most of all deep loss. They had strangers in and out of their lives. Multiple people calling themselves mom and dad. They had a difficult start. And I would have to drop them off to daycare and listen to them scream for me and go to work. Some days a case aide would pick them up and some days it was me. Some days A would claw my face off and pull my hair as I put him in the car to go on a visit. And even with the celebration of our adoption, it meant they had to say goodbye to their biological parents. Trauma is real and it will always leave it’s footprint on their lives and not to say this lightly, on mine too. We’ve been through some ish! And these kids needed to be home with me. We needed time to just be a family. Today is our 1 year adoption anniversary! Shortly after adoption, I left my family business that was all I have ever known as a working professional. I grieved the loss of that job/career/life and went full-on stay at home mom which was hard and good and strange and so wonderful. Yet also I knew my time home was limited and that time would come to an end and I would need to find employment. We cannot survive on one income and I would need to find something to help support our family. And this is where anxiety became my sidekick, my bedmate, my partner in crime, my cancer that filled throughout my body.
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