I am done with the emotional ping-pong.
When I was feeding Little Miss, this morning, she kept looking at me with her beautiful big blues. So happy; content. I snuggled her close and thought about today's pending visit with mom. I didn't want to share her. After all these weeks of chaos and screaming, my baby girl finally settled-in, and for the first time, I feel JOY in her presence.
I don't want mom to even touch her. Selfish, I know.
Sweet Boy had a difficult morning. His emotional responses are identical to LJ's. Neither of them have the ability to regulate how they express what they're feeling. It's frustrating, but after two years, I feel more confident in how to parent and direct their irrational sobs.
It was such a fight to get him in the car to preschool, I worried about our visit and what the aftermath would be.
I dropped the boys off and sat in the school parking lot for ten minutes, waiting for agency to call. It wasn't worth driving away, just to come back and get Sweet Boy.
They called. She didn't show.
I should have been elated. Happy to move on with my day.
Sadness settled in the deepest part of my heart.
I feel so much loss...I haven't broken it down, yet, to know who I mourn for more, but I am definitely in a state of grief. I can't feel victory with so many complexities swirling in my heart.
I'm not able to go to the pre-trial, next week, because the kids are on spring break. I am thankful, now. I know the next two trials are going to be humiliating for mom; I would prefer to only have to witness one.
As if this wasn't enough mess to have to sort through, LJ's mom is pregnant. Again.
I hadn't visited her Facebook page in several months, but went, this weekend, to look for any appropriate pictures to download and print for LJ (there weren't many).
That's when I saw the news. Due any day. Another girl.
Fury filled my belly.
This is baby number seven. SEVEN. The other six have been adopted by families, the last three (including LJ) were removed from the hospital and never spent time with mom.
She is only 23.
I know I am living such a small corner of this dysfunctional, messed-up, life cycle, but the portion I'm experiencing is too heavy to bear, sometimes. I am overwhelmed with love for my kids and their moms. The mom in me wants to heal hearts, the human in me wants to fix problems, and the God in me wants to trash the enemy for all the injustice.
I hate this.
And I feel bound. The little we've done (which is A LOT) is so insignificant compared to the scale of need.
But. I know I can't focus on the big picture, right now, as my two new baby hearts are in the details.
My heart just swells with pride for them and that keeps me going.
My little fighters are home and I think they're starting to understand what that means.