I thought I had a few years.

I wrote this post a long time ago and decided not to publish it. I thought it was too personal. Too much of my son's life to share. But I can't count the number of times I've read another mom's post about her adoption struggles and I've just sat and cried. Tears of sadness, tears of sympathy, tears of relief...that we are not in this alone. I am not the only mother out there struggling to help their child deal with a loss so profound we can not wrap our brains around it. So...I will post this...and pray it helps someone else today.

Adoption is hard.

How many posts have I started with that line? It's true though!
It's worth it, it's amazing, it's a blessing, but it's hard.

Lately one of the boys has started telling me that he wants to go back to his "Mommy's house".
At first I responded with "we'll go home soon Babe".
But from the look on his face I realized...he doesn't mean me. Or my house.

He means his first Mom, the one who birthed him, loved him, and gave the ultimate sacrifice for him so that he could have a safer, healthier life.

He says it when he's mad at me, when I'm requiring him to do something he doesn't want to do.
Maybe he's trying to hurt me.
I don't know.

What I do know is that I can't take it personally.
It's not about me, and I know that.

It's about him.
About the heartache he's trying to work through.
About the loss he's had.

Is his life here in America better?
In some ways.
He eats every meal.
He no longer has parasites.
He has a cool house in the summer and warm one in the winter.

But he's lost a. lot.
His first family.
His food.
His music.
His smells.
His culture.
His language.

I knew there would come a day when we had to deal with anger for what has happened in his life. I could tell you from day 1 that he was going to be the one who struggled with it the most. I just thought I had a few years before it started.