23/05/2026
Once upon a time...
I wore beautiful clothes.
My hair was done at the salon.
My makeup was perfect.
I drove a shiny SUV.
I could spend money on myself without guilt.
I looked in the mirror and recognized the woman looking back at me.
Then life changed...
One little heart called me Mommy.
Then another.
And another.
Children who were never meant to stay forever somehow found a permanent place in my heart.
I exchanged fancy clothes for stained T-shirts.
Salon appointments for court meetings.
Quiet mornings for crying babies.
Luxury for survival.
Sleep for midnight cuddles.
My plans for their needs.
I did it...
Because every little hand that reached for mine mattered.
Every frightened child who finally felt safe mattered.
Every bedtime story mattered.
Every scraped knee, every first step, every birthday candle, every whispered "I love you" mattered.
The children became my family.
Not because I was told to love them.
Because I simply did.
Today I look at myself
And I hardly know who I am...
The salon hair is gone.
The makeup stays in a drawer.
The SUV became an old kombi.
The body I once had has changed.
The energy I once had has disappeared.
Sometimes I feel invisible.
Sometimes I feel broken.
Sometimes I wonder where that woman went.
I lost a baby I never expected to have, but desperately wanted once I knew they existed.
I imagined a future. A due date. Tiny clothes.
A place at our table.
And then that future disappeared.
I miss children I loved as my own.
I miss hearing little voices call me Mommy.
I miss the chaos I once wished would quiet down.
I miss the children who left pieces of themselves behind in my heart.
I have been accused by people I trusted.
Friends became my accusers.
Other friends disappeared.
People who once believed in me now question me.
Social workers who knew my heart must now examine my actions.
I understand they are doing their job.
But understanding does not stop the pain.
I feel judged.
I feel betrayed.
I feel misunderstood.
I feel alone.
I gave years of my life to vulnerable children.
Not because I wanted praise.
Not because I wanted recognition.
But because every child deserves stability.
Every child deserves love.
Every child deserves a family.
I thought that was my purpose.
Now I sit in the silence and wonder:
Who am I if I cannot do the thing I loved most?
Who am I if the children are gone?
Who am I if the world doubts me?
Who am I if I no longer recognize myself?
My heart is broken.
I am tired.
I am carrying grief, disappointment, fear and uncertainty.
Some days I want to hide from the world.
Some days I wish I could simply sleep and forget the pain for a while.
And yet...
Beneath all the heartbreak remains the same truth that has always been there.
I loved those who left.
I loved every child who entered my home.
I loved the baby I lost.
I love my family.
And perhaps that is why this hurts so much.
Because love always leaves fingerprints on the heart.
So was it worth it?
The sleepless nights.
The sacrifices.
The tears. The years.
The answer is hidden inside the pain itself.
We only grieve this deeply for what mattered deeply.
And should I carry on?
Today I do not need to answer for the rest of my life.
I only need to carry on for one more day.
One more sunrise.
One more step.
One more breath.
Until my heart remembers that although it is broken, it is still beating.
And perhaps one day, when this storm has passed, I will discover that I was never only the children I cared for.
I was also the woman brave enough to love them.
