My Children are not Mine.
My children are not mine.
They came out of me of course and we share the same DNA but I do not own them.
I was given the gift of the opportunity to nurture, love, and guide them the best I possibly can.
However, they are their own individual beings and they will choose the path that is best for them.
Even if that path heartbreakingly is further away from me.
I hope they want to be around me,
I hope when they are older that they will trust me with their deepest secrets.
I hope.
I am not entitled to that type of friendship when they are grown, so all I can do is hope and be grateful for the time I get to spend with them.
Raising them has made me a better woman.
I am more emotionally aware than I have ever been in my life. It has pushed me to look into my past and face my own childhood traumas. It has taught me patience and what real unconditional love feels like.
I will love them past my last breath.
My children are not mine but they will always hold a piece of my heart.
I gave it to them the moment I knew they existed.
This Mom thing is the most difficult thing I have ever walked through.
This Mom thing is also the most rewarding thing I have ever walked through.
