I marvel:

• At how it’s been about a year since Hope even knew I existed and how now she wouldn’t dream of calling me anything but “Momma.”
• That I finished my dissertation on time.
• At how quickly she bounces back from a setback now.
• At how our conflicts have changed.
• That she can accept some responsibility for her behaviors now.
• At how effective hypnotherapy can be.
• At how we have defied the first psychiatrist’s horrible predictions about Hope’s prognosis.
• That I have found my inner momma bear.
• That despite adopting an older child I got to briefly experience some aspects of younger child rearing because we needed to address some developmental delays.
• At how each month brings a new developmental challenge that we muddle through.
• At how marginalized she has felt because of race, class, family status.
• At how dismissive she has become of members of her biological family.
• That I haven’t taken every electronic away for more extended periods because they prevent personal engagement and hinder emotional development.
• That she doesn’t want me at the bus stop at all anymore.