This week hasn’t been easy…and it’s only Monday. We always have a lot going on here at FullPlateManor. I don’t often share the personal struggles of my kids when it comes to their emotions surrounding their adoptions, or the struggles they face that are directly related to their birth circumstances (ongoing attachment issues, in utero drug exposure, birth parent rejection, all those other tragedies that come from not being prepared to be a parent when you suddenly are). Those struggles are things that my kids probably won’t want other people knowing about them. Other struggles are harder to hide (Dolly’s heart, Mighty’s visible differences), so I discuss those more openly.
We’re in the midst of figuring out new therapies, doing more testing, and ultimately, finding a better educational plan for some of our the FullPlateKids. We struggle just like everyone else does. Some weeks, we struggle more than others. On top of all that, there are the physical struggles. In just 12 days, Dolly and I will board a plane to hear what we need to hear about her heart.
My own heart is struggling with that.
I get emails every single day from people who read this little blog. You all read for reasons I don’t exactly comprehend, but I love you for it. I love the camaraderie that the internet brings. Even when I’m at my worst, I don’t feel it for very long. Someone out there is struggling with the exact same thing at the exact same moment. There’s never not a place to turn.
I got an email yesterday, on a particularly hard day, from a young woman who very nearly aged out of foster care. I won’t share the specifics of her email, but I told her I wanted to thank her publicly. She let me know that all my struggles for my kids aren’t going to be in vain, that someday they’ll see how I fought for them, and while they may never be able to consistently show me how much it means to them, that they will tell me, in their own way. Then she told me the story of how she stills struggles in some ways, but that her mom has never once given up. Never. Not through the tears, the bruises, the harsh words, the spitting, the swearing, the pain. Not once.
That’s why I write, because if I didn’t, I never would have heard her beautiful broken message.
I asked if I could pass her message on to you, because it meant so much to me, and it was timed with absolute perfection. So, I’m passing it on. For you who are being spit on, bruised and sworn at…keep trying. Don’t give up. You mean so much.
And, you’re not alone. Here I am. I see you. I hear you. We’re in these trenches together.
–FullPlateMom, who is ready to try harder.