“Little” Victories
Little victories are everything.
And they are often subtle.
In the first days and months after my divorce 2 and a half years ago, the back and forth transitions were hard - impossibly hard. So much so that the entire day leading up to the 5pm hand off would flood me with anxiety as I emotionally prepared myself, both for their ability to walk into a peaceful space when they got to their new home with me, and so that I could tend to my heart in ways that were gentle and kind because the self-loathing was consuming for putting them in such a difficult circumstance, even though I knew it was a necessary one.
Making sure the pantry was stocked with familiar foods and snacks for them, a tidy environment for them to be able to feel a sense of rest and welcome - of homecoming even though the four walls of that one bedroom apartment were totally and utterly foreign to them - a happy mama that could provide a comforting spirit in the midst of newness and adjustment for all of us, all while learning to trust that there was no right or wrong because the situation at hand was never how any of us hoped or expected things would end up. I knew I was doing my best, but it never felt good enough.
Despite my best efforts as a mom, most of the time there would be a meltdown in some form or another, from one or both of them (sometimes all 3 of us together), in which I would think “How could you force them to endure this type of stress? How can you be so sure that this was right, even though everyone seems to be falling apart at the seams?”
I was resting solely on the truth that the right choices do not always yield the easier path, and yet my heart ached more than I knew was humanly possible. Trusting the process felt like an understatement of what I was doing - every step ahead felt daunting. Impossible. Any bit of solid ground under my feet felt so far out of reach; I wondered if it was possible to make a right and necessary decision, and still fail myself and my children.
Fast forward to today.
I had Pete snap this photo a week ago to capture how far we have come, how different their homecomings are today.
Two houses for little people are still not what they deserve to know or experience; the transition and amount of stress it forces their tiny bodies to hold breaks my heart and always will.
But.
Progress is what counts. Growth, stick-to-it-ive-ness. Consistency. Trusting in the process in those seemingly impossible moments that baby steps still count just as much - if not more - as the monumental ones.
And that they ARE happening, whether you notice them in the moment or not. •
Today when the girls come home, the first thing they want is to pile on my lap and snuggle for as long as time allows. They squeeze me and tell me “Mama you’re the best girl. I love you so much.” When I ask how much I love them they say “More than anything!”
They know.
I’m here today to tell you that success is not measured by how hard or how easy the fight is - it is measured by growth and your ability to believe in your self-worth even when it is the last thing you feel about yourself.
You are a warrior, and you were made not only to survive this brutal life, but to thrive in the beauty that is also weaved into every single step of the journey.
