A friend asked me today how I handle the thought of letting my little ones leave. I tried to explain it, but the words got all jumbled up in my mouth and didn't come out right.
What you need to know is that my little ones didn't want to leave. They wanted to stay with their first mommy and daddy and their brother and sister. They wanted to stay in the school where they played tag with their best friend at recess. They wanted to stay with their little yellow kitten that they cuddled at night. They wanted to stay where their papaw and grammy let them swim with cousins in the backyard pool.
What you need to know is that my little ones miss their home. As dangerous and scary and unpredictable as it may have been, it was home. And they were loved there. Maybe not the best way, but probably the best way their family knew how. And they cry for their daddy at night and beg to go home. And they scream and hit and kick and claw and run out the front door down the pavement toward a home that they can't even find from here. Because home is three counties away.
What you need to know is that I can't count the times my little ones have nightmares and cry out in the night. That I hold them through sobs as I promise them that I would never keep them from going home. I repeat over and over that it's up to the judge. The judge says not yet. It's my job to keep you safe.
What you need to know is that my little one needs me to be strong. And if I must, I will let them leave with a smile on my face. I will celebrate with them that they get to go home. And when they are gone from me I will grieve. But then the
phone will ring, and I will welcome another child who didn't want to leave.