The kids are going home on my birthday, October 1st. That is their next court date and it is expected that they will go home this same day. I don’t know why, but it bugs the hell outta me that they are leaving on my birthday. Maybe because I will remember that date all the more poignantly…. So I will be 32 and still childless. And I found out last week that someone at work who was so adamant about only having one child, is SURPRISE, unexpectedly expecting. Whatever…..
Last night I had a physical with my doctor and because I’m using a new baby-sitter I had to take the kids with me. It was a nightmare and one of the nurses (she works in a FAMILY doctor’s office, so you think she would be used to kids?) was blatantly unhappy and disapproving of the kids less than stellar behavior (something about being in a doctor’s office makes them act like total animals). Yesterday was a test of endurance, I swear; I woke up with massive cramps and bleeding through a tampon and overnight pad (thanks PCOS) about an hour before my alarm was set to go off, worked all day then grabbed the kids and raced to the doctor’s office where I was given a tetanus booster and TB test (do you have any idea how many needles I have had stuck in me just to get a child?) which made my arm sore only to go home and find the dog pulled one of the poopy diapers out of the trash (the baby had bad diarrhea over the weekend so I put Desatin on him and needed to use a stupid disposable instead of my usual cloth diapers which apparently the dog finds a delectable treat…) and smeared shit all over the living room rug. I kid you not, that was my Monday. Anyway, I needed to have the physical for the whole adoption profile thing to prove I am healthy enough to be a mother. I felt great about doing really good on my eye test, despite holding one screaming, squirming child (holding him after he ran off) and trying to get the other child to stop poking the nurse and the eye chart, demanding it was her turn. Go me! The only last thing I need before I am totally completed with the adoption profile is for the adoption case worker to come back one more time to observe me and the children (which now she needs to do before the first). Well, I need to go back to the doctor’s tomorrow to get my TB test read, but other than those two things, I am done!
As of the first of October, the children will have lived with me for 263 days – that is 8 months and 20 days (3 months and 12 days shy of a full year). My longest placement by far! Although I am anxious to move on, I also know I have not yet felt the pain of losing these kids after such an extended period of time together. I guess 8 months isn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things, but looking back on the first few pictures I took of the kids, it makes me realize how much they have grown and how far they have come. I know my parents are devastated to lose the little guy, they love him so much. I’m trying to protect myself by looking forward. But, just yesterday I heard yet another horror story about a family potentially losing a baby they want to adopt because of the stupid system. I can’t let myself think about that either. I’m so tired of living in fear! First there was the fear that I would never get pregnant (and this fear was a realized), then the whole separation calamity and now not only do I fear I won’t be good enough for an agency to place a child with me, but I also fear that if and when they do, I could lose the baby to the whims of a corrupt, incorrigible, fickle, heartless system! I must only think positively. My baby is coming. Period. This next placement will be my child, end of discussion. I know that people have waiting longer than 5 years to become a parent, but I’m rounding third and headed home on my 5th year of waiting (we decided the end of December 2008 to start trying in January of 2009) and praying and hoping to become a mother and at times it feels like that is all I will ever do – wait. I’m not even sure I will know what to do with myself when I do become a mother. I don’t know if it will feel real. I’ve been called “mommy” by all of my placements at one time or another. Some, like the two I have now, call me mommy all the time, others just once or twice. But, like everything else, I have had to harden my heart to hearing mommy and tell myself each and every time they evoke that precious name, “I’m not really their mommy, I’m just their foster mommy.” There is something gratifying about hearing the children call me mommy, I’m not gonna lie about that. But, it also hurts because soon they won’t be calling me anything. At night when I am drifting off to sleep, I tell myself stories about how it is going to happen; the call, meeting my child for the first time, going through the whole process and then the culmination of all the waiting ending in a court room somewhere with me and the baby all decked out and ecstatic about finally becoming a family. I dream of what my baby will look like, how old he/she will be, how he/she will fit into my life and my family. And I think of all the things we will do together. Most of the time I dream about being able to bring a baby home from the hospital, because this is my heart’s desire. But, I also don’t want to wait another 5 years for the possibility of that to happen, but it can’t hurt to dream, right? Oh but it can! Dreaming a dream that never comes true burns deep in my soul, consuming all that is within me…. I think back to the spring with the potential placement for two little boys, age 6 and 4 and how distraught I was about that whole scenario. I was upset because while I would be ok taking a 4-5 year old child with a younger sibling, I would hope the sibling would be a baby. I don’t know how to make that make sense to anyone other than myself. I hope that soon I can stop dreaming about if and when and start dreaming about all the wonderful things we will be doing together…… I’m looking forward to permanency. Right now, I have clothing for various ages and sexes tucked away “just in case.” I have a bedroom set up with a toddler bed (which can be converted into a crib) and a twin bed, never sure of what to expect. I have big Rubbermaid containers piled in my bedroom waiting to be moved on with these kids. I have various sizes of diapers, both disposables and cloth and I have 4 different sized car seats, for “whatever.” I have toys for various ages, I have baby food, baby bottles and formula (which, I need to make sure that hasn’t expired). I have a high chair and booster seat, a bassinet and baby tub. I have receiving blankets, cuddly blankets, a baby monitor, burp cloths, and bath toys. All I need now is a baby! So, if you are the praying sort, please send a few little words to the man upstairs and if you are not the praying sort, please cross a couple fingers that this journey to become a mother will soon be over and I will BE a mother……
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