I know I've been going back and forth a lot here on the blog. I'm practically schizophrenic. Guess what? I'm still working through the stages of grief. I don't know how long it'll take me to get past it because wounds keep opening up - a new crisis, the adoption finalization, Anthony seeming to take Max's side. All of these are likely to open up my grief wounds again.
What am I grieving? The loss of our family as I knew it. The lost of the family I'd hoped to have after adoption. The loss of my ability to think of myself as a good, or at least decent, parent. The loss of Davan's safe childhood.
I move onto "I can do this. It'll be okay," back to anger and depression. It's normal. It's a normal way of processing grief. It might look crazy, but it's not. Eventually, I should be able to heal.
Now, in all fairness, Max is grieving, too. He's grieving for his foster family. He's grieving for his birth mom. He's grieving for his family ideal (which we are not!). Rationally, I can see that. Living with it all day to day...well, it's much harder.