Ten days in a row that I’ve had less than a full night’s sleep
Nine times in the past week that I’ve cried for my child’s broken heart
Eight times my little one felt rejected when the worker told him he was moving again
Seven diagnoses, all with pretty pill bottles to accompany them
Six temper tantrums where I held him until his mind would calm and the screaming would stop
Five times the neighbors have come over, angry with the behavior but blind to the child behind them
Four lies in a day that he told me, wrapping himself in a safe cocoon from a world that is out of his control
Three missed family visits where my child folded in on himself when he realized that they weren’t coming.
Two weeks until he leaves our home, betrayed again by our failures.
One brokenhearted and exhausted Mama, just trying to keep my head above water and wishing that I had more to give because he deserves so much more.
Zero days until our worker calls again, asking us to take in another homeless child who has been wrecked by a system that doesn’t care.
I guess that now, it’ll be eleven days without a full night’s sleep.