Not Just A Foster Mom

How do I even start? It’s 3am and I feel the need to write. I tried to work on my book – you’d be so proud of what’s been completed so far – but all I have is you on my brain. I feel like I’ve been shook, shook hard. We knew you were going, we knew it. Yet, I find myself struggling to keep my head above water completely engulfed in grief.

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A Moment of Truth

Hi F,

I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing. But, I thought it was time. Time to really mean I want the best for our son and be happy for where you are, where he is, where we all are. So, here I am, in hopes that continuing to say it means I mean it. Means that though I grieve I also celebrate with you.

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6 Years

Hi Jax,

I’ve had you on my mind all morning. Happy Birthday my sweet boy. You would have been 6 today. Six. What would our lives be like if you were here with us to celebrate? I don’t know if I’d be on the path that I am on. Not as fervently as I am now at least. The idea of sacrifice one for the many has come up a lot this week.

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A Writer’s Letter

I wanted to write him a letter.

I had things to say to him: I love you. I miss you. I pray for you. I can still feel your hugs. I can still hear your laugh. I had so many things to tell him. But, when six months came the only real thing I could do was sob.

I mourned for all of the could haves: learning how to ride a bike, potty training, first days of school and his first crush. I mourned for the memories: the nights in the ER, the nights snuggled on the sofa, the times he’d walk up to me and just hold my hand, and of the day we met and how there was an instant connection.

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Getting Too Attached

I made a connection today that has made my heart a little heavy. I spoke with a gal today who asked me about my day. I had just gotten off a video visit for my little girl and her bio dad so you can imagine the emotions that were warring in me. “It’s been a tough morning,” I tell her. Naturally she asked why and I replied, “Fostering is tough. Some days you kinda just stumble through it.”

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Forging

I woke up this morning and placed my hand on my belly. I cried but it wasn’t for what everyone would think. I cried because six years ago I did the same thing, wishing for the same thing, praying for the same thing. My heart ached knowing how much I missed you, son.

Things seem harder to get through this year. I feel like I have been placed in a blacksmith’s forger. I feel the hot fire scorching and burning every crack and blemish. Jax, I’m still questioning the refinement process. There has to be a reason for all of this right? For missing you. For losing some. For finding freedom and losing it too.

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New Normal

Writing is supposed to help but I still can’t stop crying. I miss you sweet boy. I miss you like the sun misses the sky, like the fish misses the ocean, like the moon misses the stars. I hope you’re doing well. Be safe and healthy.

Remember, Mama will always love you. Always. Until the last breath I breathe. xoxo

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Missing You

The grief hasn’t subsided. It’s been nearly three months and I still think of you everyday. No one really prepared us for the loss of you. I mean, how could they? They could tell us that it will hurt. They could tell us we’ll need time after. They could tell us all the things people tell each other after a loss. But, I don’t think anyone could really ever tell us just how broken our hearts are without you.

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