The therapists looked at us tonight and said "you don't seem phased" in response to the recounting of the illness, post visit behavior, and big feelings that appeared this week at our house.
Sadly, we've had much worse. And maybe that's where the anxiety that I've been feeling all week is coming from. That and we are nearing closer to the permanency hearing and all the decision makers are saying goal change. Which inevitably means more behaviors, more big feelings, more fear and more grief.
Grief. Such a tiny word for an enormous concept. And such a heavy burden for little kids. Adults struggle with losing loved ones. Now my kids are going to be losing an entire family, again. I know a little of what that feels like. And to be quite honest- I'm really scared about what that is going to look like for us.
Are they going to accept us one day? Will they love us like they love their biological family? And how often will our status as their family be challenged? Will the therapy, interventions and support be enough to overcome such a high hurdle?
Am I enough of a Mom?
And then the thought hits, what if someone made a mistake? What if I've started to believe they are mine only to have someone tell me it's not true. What if I lose my kids again?
I know it's not a bad thing but:
I love my kids. I am terrified someone is going to take them away and my prayer is that they do take them away, from another mom.
That's such an honest, raw statement and I can't begin to explain how awful that makes me feel. The rational side of me says that these kids need protecting. They needed permanency because she can't do it. It's clear to everyone and she had plenty of chances. The kids deserve better.
The emotional side of me is chastising Itself for rooting for another human being to fail. What an awful, awful thing. This women gave birth to these beautiful children. I care for her. I am blessed because of her. And all of these emotions are twisted inside of me.
And since I've been honest, I'll continue with the thought that adopting these children probably means that we won't be pursuing fertility treatments. So maybe I'm grieving that at the same time. 4 children with some serious emotional needs doesn't create an ideal space for a baby. Neither does a too small house and a full time job.
I don't have time for the emotional pity party I want to throw and there are not a lot of people that we know that understand these feelings. But thank you for reading this. I've shed some very cathartic tears while writing this post. Enough, at least, to get up tomorrow and try to help these kids through the muck that is foster care.