I have a very heavy heart this morning.
In the space of 24 hours I have had all three children crying to me about how they feel. Last night the eldest sobbed to me in her bed about how she didn't fit in here and how much she missed her group of friends back home. This morning the seven year old looked at me in the school yard with wild eyes pleading that he didn't want to go in today. And then the four year old sat on my lap for half an hour in his classroom clutching at me desperately and crying big tears saying that he wished he was still in his playschool in Ireland.
What makes it even worse is that this was our choice. No one forced us into it, no job contract made us come here. We did it for the adventure. We did it to widen our children's lives and experiences and to introduce them to a new language and culture. We thought we would build their confidence and their characters.
Now I'm wondering if we are doing exactly the opposite of that. What if we have ripped them away from their safe place and broken their happy-go-lucky, not a care in the world existence for good? What if this feeling stays with them long after they have settled in and comes back as anxiety and panic in later life? What if...what if...what if?
The sun may be shining outside my window, but right now this path feels dark and scary.