the right to hold you
In 2015, our family welcomed our third child to the chaos through the emotional and complex reality of adoption. Our son was almost three when he became part of our family, and I blogged about the experience for a little over a year. This section of my website contains the archives of that blog, which I called “the right to hold you.” If I wrote about adoption today, my words probably wouldn’t mirror what I wrote in 2014/15, but I’ve left them as originally authored for authenticity. Our little guy has been with us for over 6 years, and if I write about him today, it’s likely to be in the context of parenting a child with disabilities.
A really long layover... (or a 2-yr home update)
But if I’m honest, really, brutally honest -- there have been so many times in the last twenty one months where I’ve just wanted to scream, “I’m not in *@#&% Holland!!” There are no tulips, or windmills, or cute wooden shoes. No lazy bike rides along the river, or stunning Rembrandt's to distract us. There are no blonde girls with matching braids and interlocking arms harmonizing folk songs in my ear as I work through the trauma of mothering a child who wasn’t touched for the first three years of his life. I’m just. not. there.