I’ve been struggling with writing this. My fear is that people might misread what I’m saying. My fear is that someone who truly doesn’t know me, doesn’t know my heart, will read this and think I’m a bad person, or worse, a bad mom. My fear is that someday my girls will read this and feel unwanted. And that has never been true. But the process of accepting this new life of ours is just that, a process. And there is often great pain and frustration and confusion during any process. This is no different.
Someone reading may find themselves in a similar process. Someday my own kids may find themselves on this same path that we’re on now. And I think there is healing in being honest with yourself and others. So if you’re reading this, please see my heart. Please don’t fill in blanks with your own ideas and don’t assume that I’m saying things that I’m not.
I think that Phillip and I both, and maybe the boys, have been in a bit of a funk since the girls came to live with us. And it’s not a constant funk, not at all. Just kind of an ache. I think we’re all kind of grieving for what our lives were a couple of months ago. It pains me to even put those words out there for people to read. I’m not saying that we regret our decision. We don’t. We know it was the right thing to do. We know it’s what God wanted us to do. But even so, I think the four of us miss the life we had sometimes.
It’s like when you take an overseas job assignment and you know without a doubt that you are where you’re supposed to be, but you grieve for the life you had. You miss your friends and your home and just the way of life that you were used to. It’s like when you get married and the honeymoon wears off and you have brief moments of thinking, “What have I gotten myself into?” It’s like when you have a parent or grandparent who has been in pain and dying for months or years and they finally go to meet Jesus and you know they are much better off, but you still want them back again. It’s like when you have a baby with special needs and this baby that you gave birth to is not the baby you dreamed about. And you grieve for the person he might not become, while still adoring the person that he is. It’s like when you move to a much bigger or nicer house but you miss the safe feeling of the old house. You miss being able to walk through the house with the lights completely off and know where everything is and never stub your toe or miss your footing.
It’s like that.
Even Jonah grieved for the outcome of the Ninevites when God chose to spare them. He knew he did God’s will and still he sat and he cried.
And now we’re finding ourselves in a new place that is very foreign to us. We don’t have a feel for this yet. This doesn’t feel normal yet. And our hearts hurt a little because we know that the life we had is gone. Not that this one is worse by any means. That’s not it. It’s just not the same anymore. It doesn’t feel comfortable or safe yet.
A couple of months ago this was our whole world. Our lives revolved around these TWO kids.
One of the reasons I like to document our lives is because I love being able to go back months, years later and see how things have changed. I love going back and looking at pictures of the boys and seeing how much they’ve grown. I love being able to go back and read Mikey’s progress with his speech. I love seeing pictures of their artwork that I’ve thrown in the trash.
I also love being able to go back and see how I’ve changed. Because many times I’ve just laid it all out there. My pain and fears and hopes laid out there for people to read. And as I write this today I know that someday I’ll be able to come back to this post and read it. And I’ll be able to smile because I won’t be grieving anymore. I know that someday I’ll have a hard time remembering our life before the girls. I know our lives will feel complete because they’re here instead of skewed.
I know these things.
But today I’m not there yet. Today I miss what was.