If you have ever met me you know that this girl can talk. Give me the opportunity, I can probably chit-chat your ear off. I HATE large groups, but give me a solid one-on-one or one-on-a few and I will probably carry the conversation. No shame.
If you have been around me lately, a hot topic of course is Little man. I am always guarded by what I say to whom. For his privacy and safety, it is best (and legal) for the details of his case to be kept private. I try to keep answers short, to the point, but also meaningful. Ultimately, it is not our story to tell anyway.
This evening, we were blessed to be surrounded by many friends and family. I was asked about the case and asked for any updates I could provide. I shared what I felt comfortable and everyone, as usual, was very respectful of the boundaries we must keep.
I caught myself doing something I never thought I would do.
I caught myself defending his first parents.
When the issue of foster care and hopefully soon adoption comes up, naturally, the stigma of horrible parents are brought up. I do it too. However, in all honesty, who am I to judge someone else’s mess? I have made mistakes. I have messed up. Yes, my mistakes may look differently than others, but that does not make me better or worse than anyone else. It just doesn’t.
I thought I would have bitter feelings. Some moments I do. Most of the time, I just don’t try to understand. I just want to love him harder.
Little man’s first parents are not horrible people. I will never tell him that, because it is not the truth. He will always know the truth about his story.
I love my little man so much. As we come closer and closer to our next important date I have so many feelings. Many of which, only my husband sees, hears, and feels. I keep it together. I would be lying through my teeth though if I said I was not anxious or nervous. I have said it before. I love him so much it hurts. I never thought it was possible to love another human that much until I was married and now with little man.
I don’t know how I will feel that day. I don’t know if I should feel happy or sad. Happy for him. Happy for us. Sad for them. Sad for him to a point. It is extremely sobering to realize that what I am praying so hard for…what I seek with all my heart–could potentially be someone’s worst nightmare.
What she is to him, I can never offer. Blood, history, genes. Is love enough? In the rare times that my fear and anxiety get the best of me, I let my tears fall. Can love be enough?
I don’t hate her, because she created him. Little man has her chin and his face.
All I can offer him is my heart.
17 days.
