Hopeful, cautiously optimistic, anxious and every emotion in between.
I clenched my jaw as the season turned. I remember it. I remember it well. The scars etched in my brain possibly forever, at least for awhile. Year one was nothing I have ever experienced and nothing I want to go back to.
In October of 2023 I busied myself and the children with just about everything I could think of. Fall fest here, halloween party there, playground dates, birthday parties, pizza nights with friends — you name it, we probably did it.
By November 1st I was a shell of myself.
Then, Thanksgiving rolled onto the scene, I made different scheduling decisions as we flipped from Thanksgiving to Christmas but it was in fact the hardest month of my life — t for everyone in my family.
You can’t expect the toll adoption will play. I am not the little girl that found herself in a strange new world at three years old, everyone will handle that grief and trauma differently. What I do know is that emotions can come out in a variety of ways at a variety of times.
This is where we found ourselves in December of 2023.
You become what you are exposed to, and I don’t know all of what my little girl was exposed to from 0–3, nor do I probably want to. What I do get is the expressed behaviors from what that probably was — and there was very little I could do about it.
Breaking down habits and thought patterns that have been hard coded over the course of the most critical three years of life is incredibly challenging and something we are still working through, we are hopeful yet cautious about the timing. Walking into Christmastime last year I had no idea what was in store but I was met face to face with the wall of trauma — one who was well aware this was a special time of year and she was no longer in the presence of those she was most used to. I spent so much time holding (read that as you will) her in her room last December it could rival what I spent in my own bedroom.
My husband came home from work to find me exhausted, usually in her room, our son most likely quietly playing in the living room for the 17th afternoon in a row, we didn’t thrive, we didn’t fix it, we just survived. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t our fault, it just was part of the pain of adoption. Again, I don’t want to go into too much detail, because her story will be hers to share one day.
On December 26th I could not pack up Christmas fast enough. I wanted nothing more to move on, move past it, pick up the pieces and keep going. And it worked for awhile, until I hit the middle of October of 2024. Three weeks ago as of writing this and my stomach started turning in knots. My body, mind, heart they remembered it. What I had been able to move past in different seasons the past 10 months I could no longer ignore, the anxiety came fast and furious.
Over the past few weeks I’ve spent countless hours lying awake at night just wondering if this year will be as different as I am hoping it will be. Can things change THAT much in 1 year? Is her heart healed enough to move through it more gracefully? Where do I find the line of cautiously optimistic decision making?
Honestly, I do not know.
BUT I am hopeful, I am expectant for a joyful season, one filled with laughs and memorable time together. Even in the pain of remembering I still pray Jesus is at the center and we exude His love in the spaces we go.
There is always hope.
Your thing is most likely not my thing, but you might have something you are dreading in the season to come. Stay hopeful, stay purposeful, keep moving forward. I have to believe: The. Best. Is. Yet. To. Come
Fueling Her Forward 
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