Missing my boy

I haven't cried too much lately, but it seems to be coming due.

Part of my heart is missing, though it lives just over a couple of hills, in another town, with another family.  I keep hoping maybe his mother will relent and if we keep trying, maybe she'll just let him be with us again.  Maybe this weekend.  Maybe this Wednesday...maybe...or maybe not.

And then he doesn't come, isn't even in school on Wednesdays.  He's been stolen from us, and it is so unfair.  To him, to us, to the other kids.  They deserve to know their brother as a real brother, here in their life regularly, to play with, to fight with, as all siblings should.  I hate that he's already become "the brother we never see" to Levi and Esther.  I don't think they even realize he's as much of a brother as Noah is.  It's just not fair.

People ask me how many kids I have, and if I think I won't have to explain anything, I still say 5.  But if it's someone who sees me with my kids, sooner or later, they're going to wonder where this 5th imaginary child is.  A couple times lately, I have said I have 4 kids.  Even as I type that, the guilt is overwhelming.  How can I disown my boy?  Oh, Nick, please don't ever think I've disowned you, that I still don't think of you as mine.  It just hurts so much to explain to someone who doesn't really need to know and probably won't understand why an "evil stepmother" would be anything but relieved over not having to deal with another woman's child. 

Please forgive me, Nick.  If I don't cry, it's not because my heart isn't breaking into a million pieces.  I just can't cry because if I start, I might never stop.  I have to be able to live life, to love and care for what is left of our family, even if it means I must lock the sadness into a room no one lives in any more.  Your room.

I love you, Nicolas.  More than you will ever know.  I pray you are missing me.  I hold onto a thin thread of hope that you'll come back to us.  It's been over 1/3 of a year.  I miss you so much...