A new year, a new adventure, nothing seems easy right now. Honestly all I want to do is pretend it’s still 2015, curl back up in my covers, and act like life isn’t about to take a major, massive turn. Change is something I’ve always had a hard time with. Not knowing what the future holds is entirely too scary to even handle sometimes. That’s where I’m at now. I’m fighting change hardcore. The past 3 days have been super tough and there have been many moments I was ready to throw in the towel to this whole future motherhood thing.
Normally ringing in the new year isn’t something I get too freaked out about. As a teacher my mindset for a new year always begins in August so it’s always a little weird for me to think about how much is going to change when truthfully I was at the same place career wise that I was before I left for Christmas break. Usually much hasn’t changed for Josh or me either during the two week break from Christmas to New Years. That’s why I think this year I’m fighting it so hard. I know that our lives are about to change an insane amount and I’m very much NOT ready.
This week has probably been the hardest week for me in all of our fostering journey. Between trying to prepare the house for our first home study, to taking baby E on my own for a few hours one day (way harder to care for a baby when you’re by yourself), to hearing that there’s a huge chance E won’t even be placed with us at all, it was truly too much to handle. Tuesday night I pretty much just broke down and sobbed uncontrollably. You know those sobs that come from deep down where you can’t even seem to catch your breath and you sound like a baby hyena whose lost their mother (ok, so maybe not the best description but you get what I’m saying). Yeah, that was me for a good hour.
All my doubts and fears came to surface. The pain of realizing this child we have already began to love might not even be placed with us was unbearable. The realization that I’ve never been a mother and now I’m going to be caring for little ones who have been severely abused and neglected and have a slew of issues was intolerable. And finally seeing what life with a 10 month old looks like when you’re left alone at home without any help (because your husband is working to provide for the family) was terrifying.
I can’t do it.
Those were the words I kept repeating over and over into Josh’s arms as he tried to get me to take a breath between sobs. At that moment I firmly believed I couldn’t do it. Still sitting here right now I’m petrified with fear that I still won’t be able to do it. Being a mom is way harder than I ever thought, and mind you I was only a “mother” for a total for 3.5 hours. How am I going to survive a lifetime?
It’s so easy to sit here and claim that things are going picture perfect, that our journey has been easy, but that would be a lie. I need to bear the raw, real truth. I need to get the words out onto the screen of how my heart is really feeling. I need to embrace the fears that are crippling me right now so that I might have any hope of overcoming them. I would be lying if I said I still didn’t want to just throw in the towel on this foster thing, because I so deeply want to. I want to just give up. Honestly, it sounds way easier. The heartache, the pain, the gut wrenching moments that I know are soon to come do not sound appealing in the slightest.
I know the “right” thing to say is that God will bring us through everything and it will all be okay in the end, but I genuinely don’t have the strength to believe that right now. Right now I just need to sulk. I need to feel the pain and despair for the future and I need to sit in my sea of negativity. It’s the only way I’ll ever be able to cope. So, if you see me around, looking less than enthused about becoming a mom, just be gentle. I know you are trying to help, to make the doubts disappear, but I just need this time right now. I need to know what it feels like to fight to hold on, yet fight to let go.