A new home, that is. As a child, I was always leaving, always moving to a new country, language, home. Likewise, I flew more in my first 14 years than the average person does in a lifetime. Both were traumatic for me at the time. Maybe that’s why the idea of moving makes me so nervous.
Like me, Karen and Matan also went through a traumatic change when we removed them from their incubator baby homes. They came from overheated rooms, empty of all personal warmth and any stimulation whatsoever except bland, soft meals. We introduced them to their real home and forever family. Children adopted at their ages often have attachment issues and we were advised that any move during the first year home would be too much for them, so we waited. Now we can’t put it off any longer. We desperately need a separate bedroom for each child. They both need their alone time with each parent, and a separate bedroom will help us do that, at least at bedtime. Plus, we just need more space, period.
To be clear, we are only planning to move to a bigger apartment in our current neighborhood. In fact, it is literally across the street, yet still the idea of packing up and getting settled into a new, long term home makes me want to give up and stay in our smaller, but familiar environment.
The good news is that after months of searching and seeing a combination of unsuitable apartments and/or landlords, we finally found a place that met our requirements and just “felt” right. We finally realized that we could delay no longer. The landlords seem very nice. The apartment is in fantastic shape and they are leaving all kitchen appliances, which allows us to leave our built-in kitchen untouched when we lease our place.
August 1st is the big day!
