An Update on My Heart

I got more than my usual number of pageviews when I wrote about our little Girl leaving to return to her family, and I so appreciate the support and encouragement that you all have given to me and my family, not just in the past few weeks, but in the past several months.  This was a very challenging placement, full of highs and lows and non-stop work.  I felt the need to update everyone about how I'm doing, lest you think my summer has been spent on the brink of full-blown depression.

We said goodbye on June 26th.  I had been packing her stuff gradually so it wouldn't all come on one day, but it was still a rush to get everything together.  I wanted to get it all out at once because I thought I might lose it if I opened a door or pulled out a drawer and found something of hers.  Well, I didn't get it all, although I did get most of it.  There were some clothes still in the laundry, a few toys that had wandered under the couch.  But seeing them did not have the devastating effect I thought they might.  Instead, finding Doc McStuffins under a pile of clothes and pink and white sneakers in the basement made me smile.  I put the leftovers in a bag and was able to take it over to her grandma's house the following week, which gave me the extra benefit of seeing Girl again.  We dropped her off in the morning, and it was just Michael and me, since Chris was at work and the boys had VBS.  I thought it was better that way, since I could focus on saying goodbye, and I thought Michael would benefit from actually seeing her go to another house, to know that she was going to live with an adult who would take care of her, to give him closure.  Because the family was so scattered that morning, we took the night before to say our goodbyes properly.  We explained to Girl that she was moving to Grandma's house, that this wasn't a sleepover, but a permanent move.  She got excited and smiled big.  Then she asked me if I would be mad at her for leaving.  I shared on my facebook page the response I gave her, which is that I was only sad to have to say goodbye.  We had talked before about how she would always be part of our family, even if she didn't live in our house.  Then she proceeded to say, "I think Daddy will miss me.  And Michael will miss me.  And James will miss me, and Winston too."  We were all there and said yes, she would be missed.  We took turns giving her hugs, telling her that she was loved and precious to us.

When the car was unloaded, when it was time to get going, she didn't want to say goodbye.  She didn't want to hug us, but that's pretty typical for her.  I never forced her to give hugs or kisses if she didn't want to, I felt like she needed to have that choice respected, and it made her rare moments of physical affection mean more.  So we left.  I spent the morning with Michael, then we picked up the boys and went home.  And I crashed.  I fed the kids and got them in their rooms for quiet time, and I laid down and cried.  For a few days, I just felt this heaviness on me, this weight on my chest, and it was exhausting.  I slept quite a bit, and my darling husband really stepped in and gave me space to crumble.  He took our boys to the pool and let me sleep, he took them to the park while I lay on the couch.  Then he suggested that we do a family activity.  We picked up pizza and went to a park.  We ate together and the kids ran around and then James wanted to go for a walk, so I followed him.  It was exactly what I needed.  I needed to get out of the house, I needed to remember how amazing my kids are, I needed to feel love and togetherness and FAMILY.  Because this giving, giving, giving is hard work.  The appointments and the medicine and the personality differences and the trauma that manifested itself over the past 8 months took everything I had.  The boys have taken it easy on me the past few weeks, they have been pretty calm and good to each other and very loving to me.  I feel like there is room for them again, on my lap, in my arms, they are filling up the silence the Girl left with their funny observations and silly games, and they are my joy.

Not many people get this experience, I think, of adding a fourth child and then reverting back to a family of five within the year.  Because what's interesting is that we got used to it, how much food to make, how much time to allot for, how to do baths and dentist appointments and school drop offs.  So now there is all this time, this space, this freedom.  The boys are pretty low maintenance.  They are content to hang out in their jammies, to watch movies or run around the yard catching bugs.  They don't really fight, they don't cry too much, overall the drama has pretty much gone away around here.  There is an element of relief to this saying goodbye that has gotten me through.

Although they don't talk about it much, I think the kids notice her absence too.  I noticed the day after she left how they had abandoned our rules for being fully clothed around the house.  A DAY people.  After almost a year of having a sister, they were in their underwear, shirts off, penises hanging out on the couch(that one I nipped in the bud, because the Girl might be gone, but Mommy has no desire to see it either).  A week after she had left, we went swimming, and as we were pulling out of the driveway, Winston, suddenly in a panic, said, "We forgot the Girl!  There are supposed to be six of us!"  We explained again that she didn't live with us anymore, that it was five again, and everyone was in the car who needed to be there.  I still see and hear her in Michael, which I figured he would be the kid who was most influenced by her.  But without her to feed off of, to egg him on, even Mikey is calming down.

I mentioned in the previous post how we had just hung our family picture with all of us in it when I got the call that she was leaving.  I then printed out some candids I had taken recently, and filled some new frames with images of our beautiful children, our family, and hung them on the walls.  I find that I like glancing across the room and seeing her huge smile, and remembering that even though it was hard, it was good too.  I think of her leaning against my shoulder while I read stories, how we held hands and prayed at night, all the times I carried her and tickled her and swung her around.  And I'm grateful for the time I got to spend as her mom.

PS-- No more ethnic hair care dilemmas.  That's what I'm most glad to be done with.