I’ve spent so much time focused on how sad I would be to leave my baby and trying to figure out the logistics of childcare and bringing all the pumping stuff I needed to the office, that I totally forgot what I did. Until I sat down at my desk to open my mail and opened this. It kinda stunned me at first like a bucket of cold water being poured on my head. Reality. My life is not the world I have lived in the past three months where I absolutely quit even glancing at the news. My life IS the news. All those stories some moms get to avoid are stories that affect my day, my job, my life. That runaway, that rape, that trafficking victim; that is my world.
I understood in the very first weeks of having Zoya that all those people that don’t watch the news aren’t hiding from the world. They are just living in their own world. And I’m not saying that is a bad thing. They are living in the world around them, in the world they are in. But they are not living in the world that I’m living in. They are not living in the world that my victims live in.
I don’t know how this transition is going to be. I don’t know if my worlds will be one, or if I’ll feel I’m living in two worlds. But so far, two weeks into it, I feel like I’m just in my world – one world. Sure my world contains an amazing baby, husband and a clean house; and a lot of children who have been prostituted, lots of kids that live in hotels, porn, and some cops that have seen more evil than most people even imagine exists. But it’s all my world. It’s the life I’ve been given and we’ll see how much longer God has me here.