Ring Phone Ring!

My phone is still not ringing. I know I should be more patient, but I guess I’m just not. Thus far, I have gotten one email about a child I could not consider adopting due to overwhelming medical conditions. Last week was total radio silence; I didn’t even get a call for a respite placement over the weekend. I used the time to get the house in tip-top shape. My house can now pass the white glove test, all floors have been scrubbed on my hands and knees, all cobwebs wiped from the corners of the ceilings, all dust bunnies corralled and eliminated from behind the furniture, carpets spot washed, bedding changed – I have never been more ready! And yet my phone is not ringing. At church one of the parishioners who works in the foster-adoption field told me about a child he is going to be doing a CSR (child specific recruitment) to find an adoptive home. The baby has some medical issues, which he thought we a lot more intense, but discovered they are more on the moderate side. We talked about me being a potential for this little one, but he is still trying to get more of a handle on the medical condition for the baby. He will let me know more, if/when he can. He did invite me to a matching event this coming Saturday. If I don’t have a respite placement, I think I might go. I don’t love going to matching events because I find them to be a meat-market for the older kids, but it doesn’t hurt to get some exposure I suppose.

 

The past few nights I have been dreaming about the three girls I had last year around this time (they came November 2^nd). Mostly, I dream about the baby, how it was to hold her and cuddle with her, to wake up at night to feed her, to bathe her, to changer her tiny diaper. I cherished every moment and wish so much that our time had not been cut so short. I miss the older girls too, they were so funny and full of life. I wish I could have kept them! I wish they didn’t have to go, I would have been quite content to keep them and make them mine! But, alas, it was not meant to be! The baby turned a year old last Thursday and I probably wouldn’t even recognize her now. All I have are my memories of her, how much I loved giving her a bath and then cuddling with the sweet-smelling little baby. I loved slathering her in baby lotion and wrapping her in a fresh clean blanket. My hope and my prayer is that I will get this chance again, to have a tiny little baby to love all over. It might be foolish to believe I would get an infant placement, but I just can’t help myself. I want nothing more than just one more hug, one more snuggle, just one more little baby grin, one more kiss on a soft baby cheek……

 

I just need to be patient. I need to wait for God’s timing, to get the call for the placement. But, I am impatient – who wouldn’t be after 5 years of waiting? And loss and disappointment? Who wouldn’t be like, “Come on!” I have cleared so many hurdles and have endured a lot of heartache, I just want to see that it has all been worth it, that the outcome was worth everything that has happened, worth everything I have done, every sacrifice I have made. I am growing impatient. I want to be *doing* something, not just sitting around waiting for my phone to ring, waiting for someone else to do something for me – I want to be proactive, but there really isn’t a way for me to do that ….. I can’t really do anything to affect a more rapid outcome, I just need to wait, pause, suspend animation, chill, and hope expectantly for the best. When I was visiting my parents this weekend my mom mentioned that there is some kiddie movie coming out and “we” need to get a kid so “we” have a valid reason to go see this movie. She is impatient too. It’s just time. It’s time for the good stuff to start happening, to shake off the specter of bad that has been over-shadowing my life and their lives and for the sun to shine brightly upon us. Fate has been cruel these past couple of years and it is time for a recompense for the ills that have befallen me. Isn’t it? Isn’t it time to savor the good and beauty of life, to revel and be giddy in my good fortune? Have I not proven myself worthy? Have I not shown my strength and endurance and my ability to get knocked down only to get right back up and continue? My faith has been tested and has not been found wanting; I stared into the depths of despair and, unblinking, found hope and the courage to survive. I have trudged through the valley and I am now on the other side waiting for my due return. It’s time. It is time. Ring phone, ring!  

Just Waiting.....

I’m getting nervous that I haven’t gotten any calls regarding a placement. Today marks three weeks. I had another respite this past weekend. A young boy who was so full of energy and vigor he just never sat still. It took all my creative inventions to keep him busy and not drive me insane. We played at the playground, kicked around a soccer ball, threw a football, carved a pumpkin and then roasted the seeds to eat and watched a movie – this was Saturday! Although my parents were not home, on Sunday I took him to the farm after church so he could run, just run and run and run. He made friends with a little black barn kitten, whom he named Midnight. The kitten is super-friendly and wanted nothing more than a cuddle buddy and playmate. The boy fed the kitten scraps of lunch meat and gave it kisses, rubbed its belly and chased it around the yard. I was supposed to have this boys sisters for the weekend but at the last minute the plans changed. I’ve had baby boys before but never a child and it was interesting. It felt strange at first – what do I do with a 7 year old boy? But, as explained above, I found things for us to do. And I was exhausted from the experience! Yesterday it was the baby’s second birthday. I text “happy birthday” to his mother. Oh! That’s right! I forgot to mention that the kid’s mother text me last Friday, sweet as pie, looking for the doctor’s office information. I text it back to her and asked how the kids are doing. She said I could call or text anytime I like and the kids are doing great. She was more than happy to brag about them, about how good they are doing, and even sent me 4 pictures of the kids. I will take what I can get! Sure, it could be all lies, but having even a tenuous connection and glimpse into their lives is better than nothing at all!

 

I am trying to enjoy my life as is, rather than holding back until my baby comes. It sounds so simple in black and white, but it is not that easy. Anyone who waited, even a short period of time, while trying to have a baby can attest to the fact that it can be all-consuming if you let it be (even without you realizing it has happened). For a good chunk of the past 5 years, trying to have or adopt a baby has consumed me. I think about babies, I dream about becoming a mother, I see babies and children all around me and think of how dam lucky their parents are to have them. I avoid baby sections at the stores, detest even driving past Baby’s R Us, and try to play nice with pregnant friends and co-workers, all the while hurting inside. I’ve attended baby showers and even co-hosted one, hating every minute of it – especially after the infertility diagnosis. I know I should just separate myself from them and revel in their joy, but I haven’t come quite that far yet. A friend just invited me to her daughter-in-laws baby shower in November and I gritted my teeth and accepted the invitation, already dreading the event. Why go if I dread it so? For my friend. This will be her third grandchild and her son’s first. Unfortunately, she lost her job where I work due to the sequestration several months ago and I haven’t seen her much and would like to stay in-touch. So, I will go. I will hold my breath and try not to suffocate at all the ooo’s and ahhh’s and the tummy rubbing and glowing. And I will probably cry all the way home. Dam you infertility! I cannot let infertility dictate my life and rob me of all joy. I need to embrace my life because it is mine and if I reject it, it is like rejecting myself, relegating myself as a total lost cause and that I am not. I’ve come too far to give up now. I’ve endured too much to finish empty-handed. Chin up, shoulder’s back, march forward, on ward, don’t stop and don’t look back.     

1757 days and counting

You know that old saying, “Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it?” Well, I had wished for respite placements to keep me busy while I wait for my baby to come and I’m getting just what I had wished for in spades. I had a very nice 16 year old girl the first weekend and had a wonderful time with her and was sad to see her go. This past weekend I had a young adult and we had a nice time but she was a little more sullen and we didn’t quite click the way I did with the first girl. Now, I am getting a pre-teen and her 4 year old sister for the weekend. I really don’t mind getting all these respite cases for the weekend, it’s certainly nice to have someone to pass the time with (although I have been very busy the past two weekends with outings and what not), but I just wish I were getting calls about placements. To date (and it has only been two weeks) I have gotten one email about a toddler that I wouldn’t be able to take due to medical and behavioral complications. I didn’t expect my phone to be ringing off the hook, but I was hoping for a little something here and there. Although, getting calls can mean just as much anguish as not getting calls – if I get a call and the placement doesn’t pan out I am incredibly disappointed. I got very excited today when I got the respite call because I was away from my desk at work so they called my cell and I thought it was “the” call. It wasn’t. My friend who is a foster-to-adopt parent said the agency gets a lot of calls when the weather turns cooler because that is when they find a lot of kids living without heat and other necessities. It hasn’t gotten very cold yet, no frost, so perhaps when it does get cold I will start getting calls. Before I fell asleep last night I had this thought that it might take a long time for my baby to come and I just felt deep down that I should be prepared to be waiting for a long time. When I was driving home with the girl I had this past weekend I mentioned wanting to adopt to answer a question she had asked me. She told me, “I see a baby coming to you. I do, I see a baby coming your way.” I took her words as prophetic – it must become true! My heart and my mind has latched onto getting an infant, a tiny little bundle of joy – I want so badly for that to be true that I almost feel I can make it happen by sheer willpower. I know that sounds crazy. It is crazy. I am crazy. I caught myself talking to myself in the shower the other night. Just some random flow of consciousness conversation. When I realized what I was doing I got mad at myself. I don’t want to be *that* person who lives alone so they talk to themselves for something to do. But, I fear one of the side effects of this journey I have been on for so long is that I am so wrapped up in my own world that I forget other people and other things.

 

Here is an example: I was supposed to go visit a friend for an annual get-together she usually hosts with her husband around Thanksgiving. They are expecting their second child so they held it earlier this year, in October. I had every intention of going….. Ok, I wanted to go but the more I thought about the last time I went when she was pregnant and how I barely held back my tears and cried most of the way home, I kind of didn’t want to go through that again. I think subconsciously I put it out of my mind or purposefully sabotaged the date in my mind. The shindig was this past weekend, but I thought it was this coming weekend. I’m a terrible friend. I let my own shit get in the way of celebrating their happiness. It took them longer than they expected to have this second baby and they endured a loss in between – this pregnancy is  their little miracle. They are good people and wonderful parents and deserve every joy they desire. But, I’m just stupid little me sticking my head in the sand because they have two and I still have none. It’s pretty pathetic, when we take out our heart and truly examine it and find that it is wanting. The hole in my heart that started out a tiny tear has torn bigger and bigger until it has shredded my heart to the point I fear there is nothing left to give. Like Gollum, I clutch the idea of my baby to my heart and cry out, “My precious!” desperately loving the very thing that is killing me. How do I make it stop? I can’t. I won’t. Not until I have “it” again – my precious…… I’m being overly dramatic. But, I do tend to get wrapped up in me and forget about other things. And despite it happening so many, many times in the past 4 ½ years, I still get all stupid and withdrawn around pregnant women. I don’t want to be that way, but I just don’t trust myself to not start sobbing as they rub their swollen tummy’s and glow the glow of motherhood. Why must I act this way? I should be over this by now, right?! I mean, come on, it’s been how long? And, since I’m not having sex with anyone, it would be downright impossible for me to be pregnant anyway…. Yesterday a woman at work had her first child – a boy they named Julian. I smiled and gushed appropriately on the outside and then when no one was watching I took a deep breath to fight back the tears of my own bitter disappointment. I used to keep track of how many babies were born while I was trying to get pregnant. I guess I just liked to torture myself with such stupid trivia. I lost count after 25 (this includes acquaintances and people that have had more than one baby in the time it has taken me to  get just one). I have been trying to become a mother for 1757 days, that’s 4 years and 9 months, 251 weeks (enough time for 6 back-to-back 40 week pregnancies). And there is no end in sight….. I mean, yes I am approved to adopt all by myself but does that mean I will be able to adopt all by myself? I spend too much time thinking about a baby and dreaming about a baby and seeing tiny babies all around me and my heart just weeps. How do I get out of my own imprisoned world? How do I get over myself and get over all these stupid hang-ups and just GET OVER IT? How do I accept the life I have instead of mourn the life I wanted?

Nesting

I’m nesting. That is what I decided last night when I was on my hands and knees ferociously scrubbing the kitchen floor after thoroughly scrubbing the floor in the baby room, including under and behind the bed and crib. I have this insatiable need to get things in order, to be prepared with a clean and orderly house and all baby paraphernalia in its place. Although I have never been pregnant, I imagine I would be doing this type of thing as my due date loomed ever closer. I’m sure I would be fluffing pillows, washing receiving blankets, checking the stock of diaper rash cream, baby Tylenol, wipes, bottles, and making up the crib with fresh clean sheets, etc. In another life, this is how I envisioned the whole turn of events. So, I guess it makes sense that I am doing all of that minus the baby bump because I am expecting a baby; I don’t know when, I don’t know how (the circumstances surrounding how the baby gets to me), but nonetheless, I am expecting a baby and therefore I must be prepared. I’m stripping my cloth diapers so they will be nice and tidy. Last night I finished cleaning and organizing the baby room, so the floor (before Flaco left he ripped out the rug and put in a faux wood floor, so I wash it by hand or, mostly, with the steam cleaner) is washed, including under and behind the crib and behind the bed. The bed and crib have fresh new sheets and I washed the comforter and throw pillows and extra blankets too. I organized all the baby and toddler clothing, so it is easier to find whatever I might need. The kitchen floor is clean, although I still need to clean out the kitchen cabinets and throw stuff away or donate unused items. Then the bathroom and living room are on my agenda with my bedroom (as always) last to get this frenetic cleaning and purging. If I get all this done and still have no child in my home, I think I will turn my attention to the closets followed by the basement. Too bad this nesting thing doesn’t come along more often! And what is so strange to me is that I did not feel this way before the first placement. Maybe I didn’t really believe it would happen, that we would get a placement. Maybe I didn’t prepare like this because I didn’t know how (first time moms might prepare less than second time moms because they don’t really know what to expect or really know what they will need? – just a theory…).  Perhaps there was something in my psyche that told me it just wasn’t going to happen – a premonition for what was to come? Regardless, I never felt the need to knuckle down and get everything prepared as I do now. I just want to be able to say “Yes!” and not think in the back of my mind, “Ugh! But, I need to do this and clean that and this thing really isn’t ready…..” I want to say “Yes!” and then throw open my doors and welcome in my baby and anyone else completely unabashed and uninhibited – anyone and everyone can waltz through my house and I will not be cringing and hoping they don’t see that stray dust bunny in the corner or that smear of something on the kitchen floor. So, I will spend more time tonight getting the house neat and tidy, ready to pass the white glove test! Nesting, adoption style! 

Musings

Every night I go to bed thinking my phone will ring and every morning I wake up expecting my phone to ring sometime that day. Yesterday I received an email from the adoption case worker at CHOR. It was for a little boy the same age as the little boy who just left my home. But, this little boy has a lot of medical issues that I don’t think I would be able to handle as a single working parent. I said I had some reservations and wanted to know more about treatment plans and prognosis before committing to this placement. The more I think about it, the less prepared I feel to deal with all the complications. So, back to waiting for the phone to ring (or for an email, apparently). I’m trying to stay as busy as possible to keep my mind off of the wait. And of course, I have given myself a new level of complications with my schedule – I begin my writing course this Thursday. I guess the baby-sitter could keep the baby longer on Thursday’s. I kind of felt discouraged with her when she kept the baby for me overnight a few weeks ago – in addition to the respite payment she would receive she wanted $25 for keeping him. She had him from roughly 6:30 Friday evening until 9:30 Saturday morning – he was awake for about four of those hours and I gave him dinner, so…… I don’t mind paying my fair share, but I felt like she was nickel and diming me which I hate. Couple this with her not paying me the full price for some products she bought from me (the cost, including tax was $42 and change, she gave me $40 and called it even Stevens…..). I don’t want to be that person – the overly sensitive person who takes everything as a personal affront – but it bugs me. I loved my old baby-sitter but she is so far away it is rather impractical to haul kids back and forth from her place. And, I was under the impression that the first baby-sitter I ever had was not doing foster care anymore until I saw her at training a few weeks ago. I wish I could find a place close that I like (the most recent baby-sitter didn’t have much structure to her daycare and there was always a lot of comings and goings with her adult children and extended family and friends), that provides a good structured day care, doesn’t cost an arm and a leg and where I feel totally comfortable. A friend I work with has a daycare (she is co-owner with her sister and so has a full-time job in addition to the daycare) and I really like the programming they incorporate, but it’s not practical with fostering because of the need for so many people to have access to the child(ren) – therapists, case workers, drivers for visits (this would be my choice for my child to attend and once they are mine, I will move them to this daycare). The writing course is only for 8 weeks, so I can suck it up and do what needs to be done. I am really hoping I can talk my parents into getting a background check so they could keep the baby from time to time. I want my child to have the great relationship with their grandparents like I did with mine – well, my dad’s parents anyway. My parents never had a baby-sitter for us, we always stayed with my grandparents because they wanted to keep us and because we wanted to be with them. I want the same for my child and my parents. I think that grandparents can offer so much to their grandchildren and, if my child ever feels they cannot talk to me about something, I would hope they could feel they could take it to their grandparents. I know I talked to my grandparents about my parents and they would help give me perspective – never in a judgmental way, just by listening and then telling me a story about my dad doing something similar. Of course, there were times we would run off to my grandparents’ house because it was also on the farm, down the hill from my parents’ house. I didn’t know it at the time, but I know now that my mom would call my grandmother and warn her that we were on our way and my grandmother would always welcome us with open arms. I have so many wonderful memories growing up and spending time with my grandparents and I really hope my child(ren) can have something similar with my parents – and I think my parents are really looking forward to that too. So, they should be able to start that relationship once my child is placed in my home. I just have to get them to see it this way. Right now, all they see is the pain. They still mourn the loss of the girls I had last November and my mom laments not having a way to know how the most recent two are doing and adjusting. I know they worry that keeping the child for me on some occasions will only cause them further pain should something happen and the child not become mine permanently. Trust me, I know this anguish all too well. But, why wait a year or more for all the paperwork and legal stuff to filter through the system before finally getting to be the grandparents they want to be? Maybe I will ask them to do it as their Christmas present to me? I don’t want to coerce them, I want them to do it because they want to…..  

 

I check the SWAN website regularly, ok daily (this is the website for Pennsylvania kids waiting to be adopted), but most of the children are older than 5. Children younger than 5 are usually with a sibling group and I am only approved for a small same sex sibling group due to the space constraints in my house. So, that is usually a bust for me. I wish  there were more I could do, to find my own child. But, I am pretty much stuck waiting for a system I mistrust to send a child my way. With the email I received yesterday, I even wonder about the process they use. Clearly, I am not the best fit for that little boy. He needs a parent(s) more able to spend a lot of time with him and to be able to deal with his medical issues. It would such a stressful situation to have him with me, trying to balance work and his needs. If I can see that in an email, why can’t CHOR see that too? I kind of get the feeling they just throw everything at me to see what sticks….. I guess that isn’t fair because I am sure they have a process they must go through and I am also sure they want to be able to satisfy my needs while keeping the child’s needs at the forefront. They are looking for the best home for the child – maybe they felt the individual attention the little guy would get with me would be the best situation for him. I don’t know. I just need to be patient. I know my baby is coming, I just need to hang in there until he/she is here.

 

As part of a massive clothing purge, I went through all the clothing I have for a child in my home. I now have it all in Rubbermaid containers under my bed, rather than all over the place. I have newborn clothing right through 6 T, for boys and for girls. While I was folding the baby clothing and tucking it away, I prayed I would have a reason to dig it out again soon and put it to use. I remembered the precious baby who wore some of those tiny clothes and I wished to have her back in my arms. Oh how my heart longs for a baby! I think of all the tears I have shed since deciding to start the journey into motherhood. If I had saved every one, I am sure I could fill a swimming pool with them! At this point, it feels like infertility is all I know. I recently read a story about a couple from San Francisco who paid an Indian woman to be their surrogate, using their genetic material. The article was critical of a wealthy American couple “buying” a baby regardless of the repercussions for the surrogate woman. I don’t want to get into the ethical debate about it, I just mention this article because the husband was quoted as saying “It just isn’t fair that other couples can have a baby just by having sex.” No matter how you feel about surrogates, adoption, etc. you have to agree that what this man says is right – it just isn’t fair. Why do some people, desperate to be parents, have to endure so much to become parents? Should infertile people just accept the luck of the draw and submit to the hand genetics dealt them? Because I like to torture myself, I have read some very negative blogs about adoption and I would ask them what they think should be done with the children born to people not willing or able to be parents? In my heart of hearts I know I am supposed to be a mother. Why this desire has caused me so much heartache and disappointment, I do not know. But I don’t think I could ever stop striving to become a mother once I started. I know some people do; my mom’s best friend (I call her my aunt) never became a mother although she wanted to and she would have been a good mother. I just don’t know how to stop until I attain my goal – a baby. People have commented to me, why not wait until you find a Mr. before adopting. Why? Why should I wait to find Mr. Right (who might not exist) and be sure he also wants to adopt and be sure he gets the whole infertility thing and that he’s not going to turn tail and run, leaving me hanging again? Legally, I don’t need a Mr. to adopt. And, having my own child before jumping into the dating pool takes some pressure off of it for me. I don’t have to quickly find Mr. Right so I can adopt. I don’t know. I feel like I am the only person in the world doing this thing my own way, like I’m just some little nut-job bouncing along my own path listening to my own music, coloring outside the lines and always just missing the mark, always a day late and a dollar short. I don’t want to get discouraged. I have done so much to make this work out, I am nearing the end, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel – I just need to hold on a little bit longer until I am through it all to the other side.     

Great Weekend

This past weekend was a great weekend. The girl I had with me was such a sweet and wonderful girl. I was a little apprehensive about taking in a teenager, especially since I was told she was going to respite due to fighting with her sister, but we ended up being just two little kindred spirits! I explained to the case worker and the foster mom that I had plans to attend the Arts Festival at the Goggleworks and hoped the girl would be amenable to attend with me. As it turns out, she was psyched because she is an artist herself (a painter) and had never been to the Goggleworks and had really wanted to go to the festival. When I went to pick her up she was waiting for me and holding a small wooden container that looked like perhaps it had a flute in it. I asked her if it was an instrument and she said no, it’s my paint kit. Woo-hoo! That meant she might not only tolerate the trip to the Arts Festival but actually enjoy it! And she did! Before we met my friend at the Goggleworks, we went to a yard sale in the historic section of the city. It was rather dull until we went into the basement of a huge old mansion that was converted into a Bed and Breakfast. This basement was a catacomb filled with junk, both valuable and not. There we were enthralled with an old-time gas stove, I fell in love with some small doors (the owner wanted $100 a piece! Yikes!) I could use for my projects, we found two old suitcases, and stood for a good ten minutes pouring over old black and white wedding pictures. The pictures ended up being the owner’s which she missed placed in the basement – the pictures were of her wedding, her mother and father’s wedding, and her grandparents wedding, plus her high school senior picture. They were not for sale. We did buy the suitcases and I gave the bigger one to the girl because she was so in love  with it and I know she will make it into a great art project (she found inspiration at the art festival when we saw how someone else painted their suitcase). After the art show we went home and she took a nap (haha! So much for no napping!) and then we went to have dinner and a movie with my parents on the farm. Sunday we went to church and then spent the afternoon with my friend (she is nearly 71 years old!) watching another movie and eating pizza. Before I knew it the weekend was over and I was taking her back to CHOR – sad to see her go. She told me Friday night (I took her out to dinner because I had not eaten and neither had she and as it turned out, we were kind of near a restaurant that I love but don’t go to often because it is out of the way from where I live) that basically she was sent to respite as a punishment for fighting with her sister. We laughed about this because of all the fun things we had done (no one had told me it was a punishment to come to my house!) and she said it would have been more of a punishment to have stayed at her other foster family’s home because she wouldn’t have done the things we did (the couple she lives with are old enough to be her grandparents and they have a full house with 7 children living in their home). So, I told her she is welcome to come back to my place anytime she likes and she said she will ask to come to me for respite should the need arise.

 

I enjoyed my time with this young lady so much it nearly makes me reconsider my no older kids stance! If the pre-teen I had last year was like this girl (polite, fun, willing to try things, willing to go places, appreciative, sweet) she would never have left my house. This girl’s story is no less heartbreaking than any others you hear in foster care but her resilience is amazing and her heart is good. She was dealt a bad hand and is trying to make the most out of it and I applaud her efforts and hope her desire to be adopted by a close family friend comes to fruition and she can blossom into the lovely young lady she is becoming. What saddens me almost more than her tale of woe, is that she cannot cleave to her sisters in her time of need. She has one older sister who lives on her own and two other sisters in care, one living with her, and she is not close to any of them (abuse, dysfunction). Growing up, no matter what happened, I always had my sister (not always my brother, in fact he was the cause of a lot of anguish in our household) – sure we would fight and a few times we got physical with one another (again, more common with my brother) but we always made up and we always had one another’s back – you hurt my sister, you hurt me no matter how angry I am with her, I will stick up for her. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not have that kind of relationship with my sister. And I wish these girls could have that kind of special bond.

 

I explained my weird aunt theory to the girl, telling her sometimes I feel weird with the older kids because I don’t feel old enough to be their “mother” and yet I’m not really like a big sister because should the need arise I would have to exact discipline (not a need at all this weekend!), so I’m like that weird aunt you get sent to visit and you don’t want to go but then you have a really good time. She said that aptly fit how she felt about coming to visit me this weekend and she gave me a hug before she hopped into her foster parents car. Her sister was sitting in the front seat and I think she was a little taken aback at how well we seemed to get along. I was worried my weekend would be less relaxing and more like work with the additional responsibility of a foster kid, but the opposite was true. She made the weekend more enjoyable and was a great helper, even making the bed so neatly before she left. I hope the best for her, I hope all the bad things that have happened to her will be turned into beauty and blessings in her life.

One Phone Call before Week's End

So, I got a call from CHOR before the week ended. Not for a placement, but for a respite. I will have a 15 year old girl staying with me over the weekend. Wow! I mean, 15 is a vast difference from nearly 2 and just turned 4. Good news, no diapers. But, no naps (and therefore time to myself) and I doubt she will go to bed by 8 pm. On Saturday, I have plans to go to a yard sale in the morning and meet a friend at an art festival later in the morning, so I guess my new friend will tag along with me. She will also go along to church and visiting with my parents. Unless the activity is not age appropriate, I just take foster kids along with me when I am out and about in the world. It will just be strange to have an older child with me, even for a short period of time. And, this is going to sound odd, but I feel kind of weird with the older kids. I’m not really old enough to be a “mother” (yes, technically I am 17 years older than her, but still!) but I’m not cool enough to be a cool big sister. I guess I’m like that weird aunt you get sent to, the one who really, really, really looks forward to having you and plans all these activities she thinks will be fun, but you would much rather sit at home and veg – that’s how this situation feels to me. I tend to over-compensate a lot more when I have the older kids. So, I guess it just feels more awkward to me, versus the little dudes who are a lot more work but also more amenable to doing the things I have for us to do. I haven’t quite gotten the house in order yet, ugh! Tuesday I was too wiped to lift a finger, plus it was my birthday! Wednesday I did a boatload of dishes and pulled the sheets off the kids beds before sitting down and getting too severely unmotivated to get back up and work (although, I did comb the cat and then vacuum up the mess that it made). Last night I was out with a friend. I had planned to do some errands after work and then knuckle down and get the house in order, but now I have to alter those plans. Eh, it all works out eventually, right? I wanted to keep busy and I was hoping I would get calls for respite, so there you go! I’m not gonna lie, when I got the call and it was so-and-so from CHOR, my heart began beating a little bit faster and I’m pretty sure I was holding my breathe. But, it was short-lived once she announced that she was calling to see if I could take a respite case this weekend. It’s ok – “that” phone call will come.  

Party Pooper

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to! You would cry too if it happened to you…..

 

They are gone. My house is empty and quite a mess with things all pulled apart and in a state of semi-controlled chaos. I didn’t sleep well last night, I couldn’t fall asleep and then I woke up a good half hour before my alarm and couldn’t fall back asleep. My dad helped me pack the car last night and we could barely fit it all inside. I have a large roomy trunk and still all their stuff filled every last empty crevice including between the car seats and the front seat and floor. I had three large Rubbermaid containers, 4 small boxes, three large diaper boxes, two paper store bags, a small back-pack, and two plastic store bags full of stuff – clothing, toys, diapers, some of the WIC food. It took three people a good 15 minutes to move things from my car to the CHOR van. One last kiss and “be a good girl/boy” and they were gone.

 

My parents came over for dinner last night. We were supposed to have spaghetti but I neglected to plug the Crockpot in – it sat on the counter all day with the sauce and meatballs not cooking. So we ordered pizza. The children were like wild animals last night, just bouncing off the walls and fighting incessantly with one another – just a typical Monday night. My parents had not seen the older child in months because she was never with me on the weekends. She was happy to see them and I think the kids had nice time. My mom cried when it was time to say good-bye, which made me tear up too. The older child asked why we were upset. I had told her in the car on the ride home from the baby-sitters that she was going home to live with her mommy. She told me she didn’t want to go. She had two mommy’s and that suited her just fine, thank you. I couldn’t hold it back anymore, when I was tucking them into bed for the very last time, I began to cry. The older child asked me why I was crying and I told her I didn’t want her to go. A few extra kisses and hugs and then back to business as usual.

 

Yesterday morning the county case worker called me to get the address for the baby-sitter. Apparently, the mother and relative did not want the older child to return to me Monday but the county case worker insisted. She told me the child needed a chance to say good-bye and get some closure. She thanked me for all I have done and for hanging in there, noting I had been through a lot with this case and I was always professional. She told me she hoped to work with me again soon, in a very different manner. I told her I hoped for the same thing. She asked me if I was ok three times. What can I say? That I cannot agree with the decisions being made? I’m not going to jeopardize my future placement and my ability to adopt by spouting off my mouth, condemning the ignorance of this decision and the system in general. I said I was fine. And I am. I’m fine.

 

So what is next for me? This chapter has come to an end, so it is time to turn the page and begin anew. I have heard the term “paper pregnant” but I never really felt that way before. When it was a “we” waiting for a baby I didn’t feel totally ready to accept a child into our home; I felt like we weren’t totally prepared, didn’t have all of the things one needs to raise a baby. But, with every placement, I collected more things and now I feel totally ready for any child under the age of 5 (actually, with the twin bed, I could have an older child but that is not the age I am interested in adopting). I have a total of 4 car seats from infant to toddler and even a booster seat. I have a crib (although, the baby did a number on that poor thing – if I get an infant, I think I might buy a new crib), a bassinet, a pack-n-play, a toddler bed, a twin bed and boatloads of clothing from newborn to 6, for boys and girls. I have bottles, diapers, burp cloths, diaper bags, toys – I am ready for anything! Now all I need is the baby!! So, I am paper pregnant, but the due date is unclear…… The case worker called me this afternoon to tell me things went smoothly at court. She also wanted to confirm that I do not want calls regarding foster care placements and I gave that a solid affirmative. She mentioned they were getting a lot of calls for placements, which I will take as a good thing. I just hope that equates a placement for me - MY BABY!

 

Today is my birthday and I don’t feel like there’s a whole lot to celebrate. The federal government couldn’t or wouldn’t put their big girl panties on and deal with shit, so they shut down instead. I share a birthday with Yosemite National park, but I suppose they are closed in light of the feds shut down. And, with the kiddos gone I am feeling pretty down and lonely. My parents are taking me out to dinner for my birthday, which is nice and I had 4 happy birthday text messages before lunch this morning. I’ve been avoiding the well-wishers on Facebook because I’m simply not in a birthday mood. Maybe tomorrow? I hurt. I ache. I miss them already. I was pretty nonchalant about the children leaving right up until the end. The “lasts” got me – the last dinner, last bath, last bedtime story, last hug, last kiss…… So, it’s not a great day to be having a birthday. I just need to hold on, to hang in there until the newness of the loss wears off and the empty house feels like home again. I plan to keep myself occupied. First, I need to get my house back in order. I was purging like a crazy person, getting rid of clothing I had been hanging onto for years! I have two huge bags and 5 smaller bags full of clothing and shoes I need to get rid of. I should really pull the closets apart and see what I can get rid of from there. So, a thorough cleaning is in order after all the purged items are removed. I want to get the baby room all spiffed up and ready for its new occupant. I also signed up to start taking an 8 week writing course at the Goggleworks (it’s an old building that used to be a goggle factory and has been converted into space for artists to have studios – they have a small movie theatre to show artsy films, they host artist displays, they have a gift store and small café and they offer various classes from painting, sculpting, photography, glass blowing, and writing). I’m excited to take the class and be writing again – I mean other than writing this blog. Someday I would like to be an author, but I don’t know if I have the creativity to do it. Regardless, I am looking forward to taking these classes! They begin next Thursday.

 

So, now the great wait begins. I await the phone call. Previous experience proves that phone calls come pretty frequently but actually getting one of those phone calls to become a placement, takes a good half-dozen calls or so. Now, I think the calls will be less frequent because I’m not taking any foster  care placements. Waiting for the phone calls can be exciting because you are just cruising along in your day and the phone rings and changes everything! But, it is also nerve-wracking. I have things planned, I am living my life, but I need to be ready to stop and change course at any minute, based on a phone call. Most of the phone calls come when I am at work, so I have to try very hard to suppress my excitement and remain professional. I try to keep my cell phone in my pocket so I can feel it ring and if it is a CHOR number I try to answer it or call right back. The suspense is killer sometimes! And very often, I say yes to the placement and then I don’t hear anything and eventually I just have to assume that the child(ren) went somewhere else. This time it might be a little different, since there is the possibility that the child could already be in care and need to move to a pre-adoptive home if their current foster family is unwilling or unable to adopt the child. I really need to not dwell on any of this, but just concentrate on living my life and know that God will direct the path of my child and He will be sure to get us together in His perfect timing. That is just all there is to it! Now, if only the phone would ring……