Coming Home to Dixie

When I look back at my childhood, it’s like flipping through a book with missing pages. I was adopted from foster care at a young age, carrying questions about who I was and where I came from. Those unanswered questions shaped much of my early years, leaving me searching for a sense of identity, belonging, and worth. I struggled with the invisible weight of trauma I couldn’t name and a longing for roots I couldn’t find.

Fast forward to today, and I see pieces of my story reflected in the eyes of my two daughters. Both adopted from foster care, they carry their own scars, their own missing pages. And now, as their mother, I’ve come to understand that healing is not linear, nor is it ever complete. It’s messy, raw, and beautiful – like the family we’ve built together.

Finding My Way

Growing up, I often felt like an outsider. Being adopted came with a unique blend of gratitude and guilt, love and loss. I wondered if my story mattered or if I could ever truly belong. Those doubts followed me into adulthood, shaping my relationships and my self-worth.

But something changed when I became a mom. When I opened my home and heart to my daughters, I realized that the love I had longed for wasn’t something I had to find – it was something I could create. In giving them a family, I started to find myself.

The Small Moments That Matter

Our family isn’t perfect, but it’s ours. There are days when the weight of trauma feels overwhelming – for them and for me. Tantrums that stem from fears they can’t articulate. Nights when the past looms larger than the present. And moments when I question if I’m enough for them.

But then, there are the victories – both big and small. The first time my oldest daughter let me braid her hair, trusting me with something as intimate as touch. The day my youngest told me she felt safe in our home. Watching them laugh, learn, and grow reminds me that healing is possible, even in the smallest of ways.

Unique Struggles, Shared Strength

Parenting children from foster care comes with challenges that aren’t always easy to explain. My daughters carry the weight of their early experiences, just as I did. They struggle with feelings of rejection, trust, and self-worth. And sometimes, those struggles mirror my own in ways that are both painful and profoundly healing.

I’ve learned that healing isn’t about fixing – it’s about showing up. It’s about being there, consistently and unconditionally, even when the wounds feel too deep to mend. It’s about celebrating the tiny steps forward: a hug given freely, a fear overcome, or even just a day filled with smiles.

Healing Together

In many ways, my daughters are healing me as much as I’m helping them to heal. Through their courage, I’m learning to confront my own past and rewrite the narrative I once believed about myself. Together, we’re creating a new story – one that acknowledges the pain but is ultimately defined by love, resilience, and hope.

This blog is my way of sharing that journey. I want to document the big and small moments that make up our family – the struggles, the triumphs, and the in-between. I want to give other families hope that healing is possible, even when it feels out of reach.

A New Chapter Begins

And now, a new chapter begins.

We’re preparing to move across the country – from California to Mississippi. With two daughters, three dogs, four cats, and a bird in tow, our car will be filled not just with belongings, but with stories, memories, and the ever-present hope of a new beginning. I plan to share our real-time journey as we travel through different states, experiencing the landscape of this country and of our lives, one mile at a time.

But this blog won’t only be about where we’re going – it will also explore where I’ve been. Woven into our road trip will be reflections from my own childhood, as a girl adopted from foster care and shaped by that experience. I’ll share how that past led me to adopt my daughters, and what this journey of motherhood has really been like – the laughter, the breakdowns, the breakthroughs, and the moments that take your breath away in unexpected ways.

This trip is more than a relocation. It’s a return to my roots. We’re heading back to the South – back to Dixie, my homeland. I spent some of my happiest years in Mississippi and I’m coming home. But it’s not just a physical homecoming. It’s personal. Emotional. It’s about reclaiming a sense of belonging I didn’t know I was missing until I started building it for my girls. In coming home, I’m rediscovering myself. We all are.

This blog will be part travel journal, part memoir, part love letter to resilience. A space to tell the truth about trauma, love, motherhood, and the brave, beautiful mess of building life after foster care – from both sides of the story.

Welcome to our journey. Welcome to our homecoming.