you know when you sit on the airplane and they tell you that if a situation should arise that you need an oxygen mask you should always put your own mask on before helping anyone around you? Like I was ever actually going to do that... Now by no means am I a saint who worries endlessly about those around me, but I usually think "I am strong enough to handle this, better me than someone else", I can put off myself for a bit if it means somebody else feels a little better. I like those around me to be happy, and if that means I don't say exactly how I feel, or do what it is I want to do, or be quite what I want to be, that was ok. Because I thought that would make them think I was ok, and that was more important. Then I sat in the airplane and buckled the most amazing little thing I had ever had into that seat next to me. There was nothing in the world that had ever meant so much to me, no one who I would have sacrificed more for, nothing I had ever loved the same as I loved her. I would have gladly given up a thousand oxygen masks if it had meant that she had a moment of easy breathing. I could take a little beating here and there because I was working for something bigger now, it wasn't about me any longer. I could tolerate a little more pain, I could see past some rough edges, and soon it became a dull ache that didn't matter as much, because I told myself "she was happy", this family was what I had wanted my entire life and it was ok that it was hard for me, if I tried a little harder it would be easier for them. For now there were two, one on each side, buckled in safely, knowing that I was there, and that was enough for them in the moment. And there were certainly good moments in our life. Pieces of happiness, because it's impossible not to have them when you are with these little girls. Sent from God- handpicked for me, I was chosen to be their steward, to help them through this life while they had to be separated from their Heavenly Father. To care for them when they are hurt, when they are scared or when they don't know what to do. I am their mother and that meant, forever I will fight for them, I will give anything that I have to them and I will do what needs to be done for them. The turbulence came but I thought I could handle it, they didn't see me cry at night, they didn't hear the frustrated fights after they were tucked into their beds and I could always come up with an answer as to why he was missing yet again on another activity, another day when it was just us. Once in awhile he would try, he would take them out for an afternoon, or turn the tv off long enough to help with homework or comb their air after a bath but it was inconsistent at best, and at worst the affection was deliberately withheld and they were left thinking they had done something wrong. And the anger continued to increase and the reach of his rage went further after he told her she was a worthless brat and left her crying in the kitchen,  I hugged her with every fierceness in my heart and told her how wonderful she was and how much she meant to me. She had my oxygen, and that was ok. He told me I wasn't allowed to tell her that. That I was not allowed to take away any of the pain he caused, that was not my right to step over him as a parent and coddle my child. I didn't care what he said I would do it anyway, for that is what I promised those new babies each time I held them. I don't think he meant to do things this way, I think he wanted it to be better but he was also tired and overwhelmed and not sure how fix this. Then the third baby came. She and I struggled a great deal to get her here and after my part was done she struggled even more to adjust to being here. I loved her more than I could imagine possible and I knew she felt when I was there in the hospital unit with her. But when I wasn't there it was ugly; I was told I couldn't go, I was told I couldn't drive myself anywhere, so if he didn't want to take me I couldn't go see my baby. I was exhausted when I came home from the hospital, days before Christmas, to a home that was an absolute mess. Thankfully my wonderful friends made sure that we had good food brought in out of the kindness of their hearts, yummy soups and casseroles and the most amazing plate of fresh fruit all cut up and with yummy dip that was so much better than the hospital stuff we had been living on, but the kids were told to stop eating all that fruit, they didn't need that sugar.. controlling to the max. The older girls were shuffled from house to house at the drop of a hat as we turned around every 3 hours to be at the hospital for feedings and my heart broke when my poor toddler told me 'I just want to stay home with you today.' But if I just wanted to stay home I was berated for abandoning the baby, though she had a full team of qualified nurses and doctors caring for her. I laid on the couch and cried, I was missing something either place I was at, and I couldn't get to the hospital that morning because there was too much to do at the house, with the mess he had made and his inability to do anything other than watch football from the couch. No dishes had been done, no laundry washed, presents for Christmas still needed to be wrapped and I was so overwhelmed with it all. I was no longer truly taking care of any of those babies because honestly, I could not breathe. There was no life in me, it had just become too much. The circumstances of my life at that moment seemed to drown me and the last thing that I needed was to yet again stand up to him and defend myself... But sometimes in life there is no choice, there is only do, so up off the couch I went. I took a deep breath and got to work, the house got cleaned, the girls were played with and the baby was fed and loved. My body was battered, my mind was exhausted and overwhelmed, and I was so alone, but I was still breathing.