This morning,
I realize that quite possibly
the death of my dream has come.

Jake came to us at the age of 4 months.
He needed us so desperately.
His little body had 10 broken bones
and was casted with only one arm free.
We picked him up fresh out of the hospital.
Tomorrow we take him back to a hospital.
This time,
it’s his little mind that is fractured.

The little guy that we fought so hard to keep safe
throughout the criminal trials of his birth parents
has become too much of a danger to himself
to remain here at home.

What an incompetent poop I feel like.
He is only 4.
A parent should be able to manage the behavior
of a 4 year old boy.
We should be able to keep him from running away
and continually putting himself in unsafe situations.

Ed took him to church to be prayed for on Sunday
hoping that God would perform a miracle.
One of the elders prayed
that God would teach Ed how to parent his son.
I wish it was that simple.

We have sacrificed everyone in our family
for Jake’s sake.
He takes every bit of our energy
and it isn’t enough.

While the world looks on,
being full of answers and advice,
we weep through the night
knowing the futility of it all.
If they could only walk a mile in our shoes.

And yet I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
We love our son.