The post in which I *expose* myself.

I know you're only supposed to write about serious struggle after the fact. When you are all better and you can shout from the rooftops how God brought you out of the pit and all of that. It's what people like to hear. Warning: If you are one of those people, kindly click the little x in your upper right corner please. Thank you.

For the rest of you,

Last night we were watching some videos of years gone by. I couldn't stop crying. For my babies who are no longer babies. And for myself. The woman on those videos. The one who had seemingly free flowing joy and easy laughter and oozed sweetness and affection toward her little ones.

Because I am no longer her. I had even forgotten she existed. She looked like a total stranger to me.

I've definitely been challenged - wondering often if it was too much to take on.

Having 7 kids right on top of each other, all at young enough ages that no one can stay home alone or be of any truly significant help without constant doses of repetitive instruction and oversight, is hard.
It is very, very hard. For many reasons.

And there is that other thing that weighs heavily on me, always in the back of my mind, accusing me, reminding me of my failures. I'm not the adoptive parent I thought I would be. Not even close. It is a million times more difficult than I expected. Really. And I expected it to be tough. I pretty much stink at it all the way around. I'm not even kidding or being cutely self deprecating or seeking some sort of compliment. I mean it. I think I'm getting worse as time goes by.

There was a moment while we were at the cabin where JOTSC, Bob and myself were sitting outside, while M & F happened to be inside doing something. It dawned on me how nice it was. Less complicated.

The guilt that follows a thought like that engulfs me. And it is then that I believe I am the worst thing that ever happened to those precious children.

Meadow and Flint feel like vast holes to me that I will never be able to fill up.

Nor am I the biological parent I thought I would be. Not even close - not anymore.
I'm not the woman or friend or wife I thought I would be either. I know everyone can say that, but at this time, I feel {extraordinarily} far from it, as if I may never even be to a point again where I can feel at all content with my state - perfectly imperfect, flawed but faithful.

I am some kind of edgy, crazed, hanging on by a thin thread, drained person.

There is no real reprieve from the overwhelming work load. I feel completely assaulted by constant need - henpecked.
Tethered to a flock of small people who are often utterly senseless and astonishingly egocentric, ready and willing, eager to vigorously fight with one another over the most minute infractions.

I pray and read my bible and pick myself up - find the strength to carry on - apologize as needed - give hugs and kisses - words of encouragement - I can function - but my "good" place these days is far below where it once was.

I could not imagine doing a homestudy right now. I would fall off my chair laughing at the fact that they would suppose me an adequate parent for adopted children. I could certainly not present myself as such.

Sometimes I wonder if God is really here with the kids - why didn't He give them the kind of mother that would be most beneficial for them?

I told my family I think I may be depressed. My daughter said maybe I should consider {particular brand of prescription medication heard on a commercial} :) I had to laugh. She might be right. I don't know....

And then, despite my best efforts to the contrary, I'm getting fat. So, whatever.

I do realize this is not the least bit eloquent or uplifting or inspiring. I don't have much to say about that. It just is what it is. I don't mean to wallow. I know it sounds that way.

The reason I am sharing it is because if you do feel or have ever felt the way I described, you are absolutely not alone.

Give me Jesus.