My Boy is Home

I can into put into words how hard it is to have a child live in a separate town, or city or state. How scary it is to entrust your ex-partner with them when they are sick, or hurting. Or how amazing it is when they step off a plane and hug your neck. The rush of joy and tears you fight back as you get them in your arms, your home, your life, even for an hour, a day, a week. You know you are making a life for your children. Doing the best you can to give them stability, tranquility (well as much as you can have with a house full of kids) and love. You know that your ex is doing all he can to provide and nurture. And in honestly, when your child is in his care, you sympathize with the loss he has felt when your children are with you. The hardest part of a divorce and moving on isn’t the leaving, or the loss of love (that was already gone); the hardest part is knowing that you will have days and weeks and months that you have no control, no ability to rush there, no goodnight kisses and good morning hugs. It is that feeling when the kids have completely taken all your sanity for so long, then suddenly the house is empty and quiet and you are begging for that noise back. 
Tonight I go to sleep with a happy heart. My children are all under one roof. Yet, sleep, as tired as I am, fights me, for I know all too soon that one of my children will be returning home. For admitting to my heart his home is not mine, breaks me.
To all you mothers and fathers out there who spends those nights and days without your little ones dancing on your toes and tearing at your heart strings more so than tearing apart your home; I feel your pain, I share in your sorrow, but I also rejoice with you when you get those shared moments of life with your child.

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