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……  

My Baby is Coming

So, it looks like Tuesday the children will go home to their mother after court. This was confirmed by the county to my CHOR case worker. I have most of their things packed, but now I can choose the few outfits they will need over the next several days and get everything else packed away. My heart cannot comprehend this decision, it seems like the mother and the children are being set up for failure, but my opinion on the matter means zilch. I am as sad as I am anxious. My mantra is “my baby is coming!” and I try not to think about the absence that I will feel next Wednesday. I want to stay positive and up-beat and I want very much for my next placement to come quickly, but I need to keep my expectations in check. Only God knows how long I will wait for my child (I need to stop saying “placement” because this is not a foster care situation, this is *MY* child!!!). I’m steeling myself for the tears I know I will shed but also for the tears and sadness my parents will feel – they have grown so attached to the little guy (they haven’t seen the older child in months because she is never with me on the weekends). This too shall pass. My baby is coming.

 

There is one thing that I still find worrisome. I read other foster-to-adopt blogs and I read articles about foster care and adoption. In my readings I have come across foster/adoptive families that proclaim a wonderful, familial relationship with the biological parents/family of their foster/adoptive children. I have read some cases of how foster families have worked just as hard as the biological family for reunification with great success. With my first child, I had absolutely no parental or biological family involvement. The parental rights had been terminated months before the child was placed in my (our) home, so there was no visitation, no worry that things would change, it was as cut and dry as a foster-to-adopt placement could be. My first foster placement, the older child, had visits with her sisters but only two visits with her mother before the court put a stop to that due to issues that came out during the visits. I don’t know if visits were ever reconvened because the child moved on to a more appropriate home. The sibling group I had in November had weekly visits but I had no interaction with their mother or the relative that took them in after being with me for a month. This case I have now is the first time I have ever had to interact with family members of the children and I have not found it to be a positive experience. While I feel like I tried to promote a positive relationship, encouraging the mom to call the children on my cell phone or call/text me if she felt the need, this privilege (that is how I see it, sorry but I do) was abused. When I didn’t answer my phone, threatening messages were left on my voicemail. When the older child’s relative got my cell phone number (it is still a mystery how she got my number because the county denies giving her my number or permission to call me to talk to the child) the mother called me berating me for allowing this relative to talk to her daughter because she never gave permission for that. I got nasty text messages telling me the children’s clothing smelled because I didn’t use the right fabric softener. I was quizzed about tiny insignificant scratches on the children and again threatened about the alleged evidence of physical abuse. I had a heated conversation regarding the older child calling me “mommy” and how this was simply not acceptable. There were multiple issues with the length of the children’s pants, the size of their shoes, and keeping many, many clothing items sent along for a visit. That was all just with the mother! With the relative, I had to force the child to talk to someone calling from jail. I had to deal with waiting for her to be returned at 10:30 at night (on several occasions) and picked up and dropped off willy nilly, with a complete disregard to the schedules and lives of others (including 2 baby-sitters). I asserted my boundaries (with little backing from either agency) and in the case of the mother, blocked her number in my phone. Because I read about such wonderful “co-parenting” that other foster-to-adopt parents have had, I beat myself up over not being able and at this point not being willing, to bridge the gap and have a good relationship with the biological family of the children in my care. Could I have done something more? The mother and I started off on the wrong foot. The first time I met her, when I went to pick the children up after a visit, she was incredibly rude. Sure, I was there to take her children, so I let it roll off my back. But, she followed that up by constantly complaining to the county and CHOR, leaving threatening voicemails and absurd text messages and it all went downhill from there. I don’t think I am hard to get along with, but there is only so much bitching I can hear before my bullshit meter blows a gasket. Nitpicking is not a way to endear yourself to my heart. I put up with it until last month, when I had enough of the verbal malice and blocked the number (actually, since AT&T makes you pay for that, what I did was make her calls ring right to voicemail. She can still text but I ignore them). Soon they will be out of my life and I won’t have to worry about it. But, I do worry about the next situation I might find myself in. I mean, let’s face it, my goal is not reunification. I want to keep their baby!! We seem diametrically opposed in this situation – one is gaining what another is losing. I do feel badly for the biological family losing their child to the adoptive family, but obviously I identify a whole lot more with everything the adoptive family has had to do and endure to be able to adopt the precious little life in the balance. I am cognizant of the fact that the best thing to ever happen to me is the worst thing to happen to someone else. Mostly, I hope that the child I get to adopt has no biological family involvement – this of course is for purely selfish reasons. At best, I can pray for the grace to deal with whatever situation that presents itself. I want to be the bigger person, really I do, but seeing someone so irresponsible, living a morally bankrupt life getting the most precious gift that I can only dream about, well all my good intentions drain right away. I am open to keeping some form of relationship with the biological family, depending on how healthy that might be for my child and I hope we can at least have cordial interactions, but I just don’t know. If I am in a situation like I am right now, I would not be inclined to have much family involvement (well, maybe the relative of the older child could come to birthday parties and things like that). There is a part of me (that little selfish part) that wants to just close ranks and be my family and my friends and not include the “others” but in the end, I know I will do what I think is best for the child. I guess that will need to be my focus – what is best for the child? I know there are other people who really like the biological family of their foster children, but I have not been so fortunate. I hope this is and example of the worst case scenario and that the next time I’m dealing with biological family there is more mutual respect and open communication. But, more importantly – MY BABY IS COMING!!!! J     

I Want You!

“I want you!” That’s what the little girl cried this morning as I tucked her into her car seat in the CHOR van to go visit her mother. She had a vice grip on my left arm, refusing to let me go, wailing, “I want you!” I wiped away her tears, kissed her on the forehead and told her she would have a nice visit and have lots of fun and I would see her later. I am sure she knows something is happening. I sent three Rubbermaid containers with them full of odds and ends that got moved with them to my place over 8 months ago on January 12^th. She must understand what that means, she is such a smart girl. My heart broke seeing her cry, having to wrestle my arm from her grasp, listening to her begging me not to leave her. Does she know it is all over as of Tuesday? Does she know how badly I hurt and how I don’t want them to do, how much I will miss them both? I walked away from the van and got back into my car, my heart heavy. I can be all Suzie Sunshine, one door closes another door opens, God has a plan, but that doesn’t erase the stark reality of the pain. The pain of knowing I will never see them again after Tuesday. I will never know how well they do with the adjustment, how well they do in school, what they decide to be when they grow up. I won’t see them grow beyond what I have seen in the past 8 months and I will never get to applaud their accomplishments, help heal their wounds, or give them encouragement as they make their way through life. I am not their mother. I mothered them for a short time, I gave them all I had for a short time and now that time has come to an end. I wish it were different, but this is the outcome that has been in play since before the children moved to my house in January. I am ready to move on. I am officially approved and ready to adopt, so now all I need is my baby to find his/her way into my arms.

 

From the woman who drives them to their visits, both baby-sitters, their previous CHOR case worker, my parents, friends, other foster parents, anyone who has met these children and knows they are going home to a mom with a newborn says, “This ain’t gonna work out!” Knowing how active these children are and how much of a handful they are (especially the older child), going home to a single mother with a tenuous support system at best and a brand new baby seems like a recipe for disaster. People are placing a bet on how quickly all three children will be back in care. And here’s the thing – if they call me my only question will be “is their case legal risk or adoption?” because if it is not, no matter how much I love these children, I will not be taking them back. I am saying this now, I am telling myself because I know I will want to cave and take them back, but I cannot endure more time in the land of limbo. I am only taking in a legal risk or adoption case. Period. I have waited a long time, I have gone through enough, it is my time. I would be incredibly sad if these kids were adopted by someone else, but I can’t keep playing the game to see if that would happen. I’m not the gambling type. I will wait for my baby and pray that he/she comes quickly. I’m ok with doing respite for other foster families and I hope I get calls for that because it will keep me busy, but I will not take on a foster care case. A friend told me today, after finding out how old I will be next Tuesday, that 32 is a good age to become a mother. I can’t help but agree! I know that legal risk cases can take longer than a year and I’m ok with that. As anxious as I am to make everything official, I’m more anxious to just get the placement, to get my baby in my home. Hopefully soon I will be writing to say “MY BABY IS HERE!” Let’s all keep our collective fingers crossed! J   

One Week Left

One week left. A week from today the children will be in court for the official reunification with their mother. When the case worker was at my place last week she wasn’t 100% certain the children would go straight home after court but she conceded that this case has been highly unusual from the word “go” and so she didn’t really know the exact date of return. There is no question that the children will be going home, it is just a matter of when. My previous case worker was under the impression that the children would return immediately following court. This case worker has been trying to get an answer from the county but has not had much luck in getting her phone calls returned. Welcome to my world……

 

I had such a lovely weekend with the baby. And this may sound odd considering he threw up on me twice Saturday afternoon, but he was rather well-behaved before and after the vomiting incident. He was crabby later on that day, but nothing over-the-top. Saturday we went with a friend of mine to a fall festival in which they shut down a major thoroughfare and had various artists set up tents to peddle their wares along with the various specialty boutiques sprinkled among the 6 block stretch. It was a warm and semi-cloudy afternoon, but still nice enough. We had made our way through nearly the entire fair and stopped in a bakery for my friend to take something sweet home for her son. The little guy began to gretz and wanted me to hold him. I slid him out of the stroller and when I picked him up, he put his head on my chest and he felt warm. I had just finished telling my friend he felt warm when I felt something sticky slide down between the cleavage crevice. The vomit slid down the front of me onto the floor, splattering my feet and sandals. I switched him to my right arm and dabbed at the puke with my left hand, mostly concerned for my scarf and the purse strap when I felt the warm sticky feeling running down the outside of my right arm and splattering to the floor. People ran in fear and I felt awful for chasing away customers, but at the same time I was covered in puke and the lousy paper napkins were doing nothing more than smearing the goo around. The baby began to cry. I aborted my attempt to clean us off and cuddled him as my friend grabbed the stroller and we marched back to the car. We had about 2 blocks to walk and carrying the vomit encased little one was a struggle because he is a big boy! But, we made it, I stripped him down to his diaper and plopped him in the car. Luckily I was wearing layers and was able to take the one shirt off and drive home in my tank top. After a double shower and costume change we headed out to my sister’s boyfriend’s mothers 50^th birthday party. The little guy was feeling better and actually ate quite a bit of food but towards the end he was feeling warm again, so we left early and put him in bed. Sunday morning at church I was sitting down and he had been sitting on my lap facing forward as we sang the worship songs. At one point he turned and laid his head on my shoulder and fell asleep. He has only ever fallen asleep while I was holding him one time and he was much younger than he is now. I took advantage of the cuddle time and tried to put the feeling of impending doom and loss from my mind.

 

It is so hard for me to imagine not having these kids with me. It is hard to think that (hopefully) in the near future I will be cuddling another baby and getting a different child into a routine. It is also so hard for me to imagine keeping that child and having all the agency stuff wither away and let us live our lives as a family. I feel a lot more somber now in my approach. I think I am more emotionally cautious and unsure. Previously, I felt so righteous about deserving to be a mother; it was hubris. Being a mother is not a right, it is a gift. I can blubber and blather all I want about *my* plans and *my* desire and how I can provide stability and love and wonderful family connections – but in the end, I am no more or less deserving than any other woman to be a mother. I’m not the same person I was in December of 2008 when I agreed to toss out the birth control pills and delightfully start a family, blissfully unaware that my ovaries were so disinclined to accommodate. The whole first year it was playful banter and guessing which month would be *the* month. But, as the year whizzed by and no pregnancy was to be seen, doubt and fear began to creep in and it wasn’t long before the fears were confirmed – there was a problem. But, sometimes the solution is first to identify the problem and then determine how to fix it, so with renewed hope, we marched on to the infertility clinic, only to once again be let down. We regrouped and took up a new tactic – adoption. With a mixture of caution and hope, we plodded through the paperwork and the training and the waiting. We got excited with each and every phone call until we got our very first placement! I will never, ever in all my life forget that feeling when we drove home from CHOR with a little one and all his stuff jammed into the backseat of our car. I kept peaking  behind my seat to stare in wonder at this miracle – they really let us drive off with a child in our backseat! He was ours! The journey has come to an end! My heart was elated, my spirit soared in a way it hadn’t in over 3 years. But, this joy was short-lived and the dreams came crashing down, shattering my entire world, plunging me into a darkness I am only now pulling myself out of. After all of this, after the newness of this endeavor wore off and the naiveté was replaced with determination, the elusiveness of the dream still encompasses my life, it still clouds my ability to see a brighter future. It’s like I have infertility PTSD; I duck and cover when I see an incoming pregnant woman, I have nightmares that are in fact my own reality, I remember seeing my dreams die before me feeling so helpless to save them and yet so responsible for their demise. I cannot function in the “real world” like a normal civilian because I am always looking over my shoulder seeing an invisible enemy. I don’t know if this pain will ever go away completely. I cannot rewrite the past and I cannot ignore how much this chapter in my life has changed me. I was telling a friend that I was approved as an adoptive home last Friday and that I have been communicating with someone special I really like and she said “it seems like things are all coming together for you” and I could not find it in myself to joyfully agree with her; there was still something painful lurking just under my rib cage, a twinge letting me know that it was all too precarious to trust wholeheartedly. I hate that feeling, but I just could not shake it. The old demons might have left but they did not go far; they hover just above me ready and waiting to snatch away any small shred of joy I manage to acquire. I don’t think so much about my next placement as I used to. I made myself stop daydreaming about “the call” or what gender/age the baby will be. I just wake up and put one foot in front of the other, praying for guidance, for wisdom and praying for my baby; and then I get on with my life. My hands are open, my heart is ready, please dear God bless me with a baby……    

It's Official!

I had my meeting with the adoption case worker today to review my family profile and I am officially approved as an adoptive family (it seems so weird and silly to call myself a "family"). The report was rather similar to my autobiography (I'm mean, my story is my story, right?) with the addition of financial information, background check stuff, the case workers opinions of me and the house and the interviews from my three references. The things my friends said about me moved me to tears. I mean, I know we are friends and they like me and all, but they said such kind things about me so deserving to be an adoptive mother, how nice of a person I am and how much I care for the children. I really did get tears in my eyes while reading it and needed to stop and take a breath. I feel unworthy of such adoration and praise!

I took the day off of work, so I am back home now thinking of all the things I want to get done before I pick the little guy up from the sitters. I thought I would be more elated about completing this milestone today, but I'm actually feeling pretty down. I think the fact that the little ones are leaving very soon is finally settling in and weighing on my heart and mind. I don't want this to rob my joy of the moment because I am one very large step closer to adoption! All I need now is the child that will become mine! My information is now officially available for other counties to view when considering an adoptive home for placement. Of course, this does not mean I will get an immediate placement, the length of my wait is anyone's guess. But, I am one step closer and that is definitely a cause for celebration! :)