Did I Miss Something?

   

   Ever since I was a little girl I couldn't wait to grow up, get married, and become a mom. I would imagine my home.... full of babies and toddlers with dirty diapers and sticky hands, the smell of cookies baking, laundry drying in the breezy sunshine, and smiles all around. They would be the loves of my life, and I would be the center of their world.
   In my early 20's it became quickly apparent that something was wrong with me and I was unable to get pregnant. I shoved my thoughts and feelings about the situation way down deep and pretended like I was fine with it. But I wasn't.
    I mean... I literally had dreams of making my pregnancy announcement to family and friends. I dreamed about feeling the symptoms of pregnancy. I dreamed about giving birth. I dreamed about my future babies and what they would look like. But I would always wake up empty handed.
    When the opportunity to foster and adopt came to my attention, I was all for it. Every decision I made hinged on how it could impact my chance to be a mom. I turned down jobs that would keep me from being home in the evenings, searched for a house that would pass inspection and hold lots of kids, and spent hours scouring information about available children. After years of going through painful medical tests, drugs, financial struggles, disappointment, orientation, background checks, inspections, and then several failed adoptions, we were finally able to adopt.
    I anticipated that I would bond with my children and that they would love me as much as I love them. I thought that giving my time, showing them love, making them feel safe, and bringing God into their lives would be enough to erase the pain of their pasts. But it hasn't been.
   They don't rise up and call me blessed......it's more along the lines of "stupid", "paranoid", and other words that I don't want to type. I kick myself every day for not being enough. For being incapable of meeting their needs. For not being able to fix their broken places. For not being able to create an environment that they don't want to leave.
    I have listened to (and read on social media) people's comments regarding my lack of parental ability or about me not really wanting my children. I have stumbled upon messages to my son about how "God needs to work in your mom's life"....... and I find myself thinking that maybe I have  missed something.
   Maybe if I prayed more? Maybe if money wasn't so tight? Maybe if I kept the "I hate you"s and the "you're not my real mom"s from penetrating my soul? Maybe if I could meet hostility and abuse with grace? Maybe if I was more like a fairy godmother and less like a correctional officer? Maybe if relationship wasn't as important to me as limitless boundaries are to them?
   All I know is that for quite some time now.......I feel as though I have failed.