It’s been a year since we fled our home

…the first time.

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Dear Precious Little One,

I have not added
to my stack of letters to you
for months.

I had followed the prompts,
written according to each of the themes:
…but I did not write on Discovery.

The discoveries I have made
over the past year
have been too

It’s been a year
since we fled our home
the first time.
We would leave it four more times before
finally realizing
we could not return
ever again.

You were two months old
and now
it is a little over two months
little one number two
joins us
in our new, safe home.

I couldn’t even dream of having a new safe home
one year ago today
let alone the blessing of two little ones in it.

I couldn’t even dream.

My thoughts were muddled.
All I thought of was survival,
mostly yours.

When they said I needed meds
to subdue the anxiety
and quiet depression
I accepted
in hopes that I would be a better mother
for you.

When the meds tricked us all
and let in voices of terror
that threatened to destroy and kill
I did not panic on the outside
but only for your sake.

Each time I returned home with dread
I wondered why.
Why could I not embrace
this life I loved?

The MD said “depression,”
the psychologist “anxiety,”
but it wasn’t until that sleepless summer night
that the truth came out of my own mouth:

When I finally realized the truth
we left home for the last time
in the dark before dawn
never to return.

It would be eight months until we had a home again.

Part of me
could not believe
we ever would.

Yet here we are,
after a year of wondering whether we would survive,
in our own home.

And I am so thankful.

Written by

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