Letting Her Go

“I love waking up to her smiling face every morning,” said Baby’s mom.
She begins to cry as she is praised for her accomplishments over the last six months. Baby’s mom has reached the point where she will now officially gain custody of her daughter for the first time.

The caseworker runs to get tissue to dry her client’s tears.

It’s all playing out like a dream to me. More like a waking nightmare. The corner conference room has white, stale interior walls and high ceilings; the early-afternoon sun is flooding in through mounting windows. The sun is irritating. I would rather it be rainy and cold because that’s how I feel. But, for Baby’s mom it is beautiful. The sun is shining brightly for her. This is her time; her day. Her dream come true and my nightmare.

But, I am sitting there gracefully in pain.

The document that will release Baby to her mother is passed around for all parties to sign. We have the option of agreeing with the decision for Baby to go home or disagreeing. I feel some sense of empowerment that I am being given the opportunity to disagree with this decision. But, I check the box that says “agree.” I do agree. As much as I don’t want to let this baby go, her mommy wants her back, and has done all the necessary work to get her back.

We decide on a date and time that Baby will be returned to her mommy. I sign and date this document, stating that I agree to hand over the child at the agreed upon time and place. A necessary formality to ensure we don’t skip town with the kid, which my husband has kidded about since Baby came home.

The meeting wraps up and Baby goes home with me for the last time.

***

That sweet little “ahhhYaaa” rings from the baby monitor followed by thump…… thump.
Baby has recently learned how to lift both legs and let them drop; one of her many new found revelations about what her 6-month-old body can do. I prepare her bottle and walk upstairs. She has her pink furry blanket, with the pink and white polka dot satin trim, in her mouth. I greet her with a smile and a “Good morning Baby!” She greets me back with her huge, wide open-mouthed smile, showing off her toothless gums, beautiful brown eyes squinting from smiling so hard. I pick her up from her crib and sadness comes over me, for this is the last time we will greet each other in the morning.

She has that morning look; puffy eyes and face, indentation from the pillow on her cheek. The few hairs she does have on the back of her head look like a bird’s nest, and the generous amount of dark brown hair on the top of her head is puffy and floating. She is so warm and cozy, and my heart melts as I hold her close to me. I smell her face and kiss her cheek, taking her in, binding her presence to my memory. I have her dressed in a zip-up jumper with brown and green stripes, with a brown monkey sewn along the left side.

“Mommy, why is Baby wearing boy’s pajamas?” asks my 4-year-old foster daughter.

“Because Baby is going home today, and Daniel will be moving in,” I answer. “These will be Daniel’s pajamas soon.”

The last few days counting down to her departure are like a foggy, bad dream. I started to let things go in the house; clothes not washed, or the ones that are washed still sit in the clothes basket. Motivation begins to dwindle, and I wonder what the last six months were for???

After allowing some time to feel sorry for myself, I come back to my purpose, and ask that question again. “What were the last six months of my life for???”

My answer is to give Baby an extraordinary start to her life, a start that may not have been possible if she would have been placed in her mother’s care directly after birth. The last six months have allowed her mother to work through the issues that caused Baby to be taken from her in the first place.

The other purpose of the last six months was to teach me to conquer my worst fear of loving a child and ultimately having to let her go. I knew God would put me through this. I knew I wouldn’t get off easy on this one.

***

Husband, Step-Daughter and Foster Daughter came with to say “good-bye” to our Birdie, a nickname my husband gave Baby when she was born. As we approached the exit from the freeway, my phone rang.

It was my baby’s other mom.

“We are just getting off the freeway,” I answered. We were running a few minutes late as usual.

“Oh, OK.” She said in her high pitched, always forgiving voice.

As we drove into the parking lot I spotted her standing on the sidewalk outside of the Starbucks, where we have been meeting since Baby was 3 months old. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail, with a long sleeved purple shirt on, jeans, ballet flats, and her black, school girl-like glasses sitting on her nose. She looked ready to be a full-time mom. She stood holding onto Baby’s new gray and orange stroller, ready for Baby to occupy.

We parked the car. Mom walked anxiously up to the window of our car to where her daughter was.

I stepped out of the car and walked around to the trunk to retrieve Baby’s items.

“Hello.” She said in her cute, high-pitched voice, the way she always does.

I reached for her with an embrace and my gesture was openly reciprocated, something that came naturally for her for the first time since Christmas. Two mothers; in love with the same child. In that moment, the long embrace told the whole story. It was finally over. She was finally getting her baby back, and I was finally able to move on and find closure.

I didn’t cry like I thought I might. I’ve been crying over the possibility of her going home since she was a month old, and I had pictured this day for quite some time. I suppose the actual task of handing her over was not as intense as the anticipation. Everyone held and kissed Birdie goodbye, but I had to be the one to officially hand baby over to mom. It was a symbolic moment for me. A significant chapter in my life was officially ending as soon as that baby left my arms. And, I was at peace with it.

I told Baby I would love her forever, gave a kiss on her cheek and handed her over to her new full-time mommy. I became teary-eyed and I’m sure I could have broken down if I would have let myself. But, I had my whole family in the car, and stuff to do. I am a private mourner, and privacy I did not have.

“I can cry later,” I told myself.

Yet, since baby’s departure, it seems like my tears want to come at the most inopportune times. I suppose I need to get over the whole “private mourner” thing if I want to get through this in a healthy fashion. With a husband, a 4-year-old, two step-children and our new foster baby, “private” is a fond memory.

***

I picked up 4-month-old Daniel from his foster family yesterday. He is perfectly healthy with brown eyes, lots of curly brown hair and a big smile with dimples. As I sit here in Starbucks finishing this piece, he falls asleep on my chest. I go up to the counter for my free refill (because I am a gold card member), and my eyes well up. I feel Daniel’s tiny warm body resting against mine, and I remember Birdie. I order my coffee in a choked up voice. Have to swallow my tears again; can’t cry at the Starbucks counter. I don’t like the attention, or making other people feel uncomfortable. So, I stop until the next time my memories of Baby jerk at my tears. I am glad I have those moments, though. I have had a few of those moments over the last couple of days, but it is not a constant pain. It’s not like I thought it would be. And, I wonder if something is wrong with me; why I am not totally devastated at the loss of Birdie? I think it is because I am confident that she is safe and happy. I know that her mom is taking excellent care of her. And, I am at peace with this knowledge.

Plans with Daniel are that he is a keeper. He is soon to be adoptable, and most likely will be with us forever. THAT is an awesome feeling! To be able to look at him and think about being present for his first words, first steps and every other wondrous milestone he hits as he grows! I can finally find joy in this! I can dream, and this dream has the potential to become a reality! With Birdie, I would always have to stop myself from dreaming about her future, because the outcome was so uncertain. And until Daniel is legally ours, there is no guarantee. But, the odds are in our favor. THAT is exciting!

I miss Baby; our Birdie. I keep her blanket that she slept with at night in an easily retrievable place, to be grabbed when I need a little reminiscent whiff. Similar to when we experience the death of a loved one, we sometimes like to keep objects that belonged to them. With Birdie, she is still alive and well; just living the rest of her life somewhere else now. And, the thought of being able to see her again one day makes it all OK. Maybe that is why it is not so horrible. I know I will get to see her again one day.

It’s time to be Daniel’s mommy now, and let my Birdie go.

"Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom..."

I have always wished to be called “Mom”; to have a child of my own to call me “Mom”; to depend on me to guide her, teach her, and love her unconditionally. My step-children sometimes slip up and call me “Mom”, and it always causes a warm, fuzzy feeling to fill my heart and soul and a smile to emerge on my face.

A few weeks ago this particular wish or prayer came true, and it is continuing to brighten every moment of my day with the ringing of “Mom” sounding throughout our home.

The call that changed my world came about 4 weeks ago. I had just found out 2 days before hand that my precious 4-month-old foster baby would most likely be going home to her biological mother in March. I had been struggling with an overwhelming feeling of sadness and anger. A gut wrenching feeling over the thought of having an empty bassinet sitting next to my bed, unused bottles sitting in my cupboard, the baby bath sitting dry in my bathroom, and the lonely silence that her absence would bring.

My husband and I had considered taking in another child after having our foster baby for a few months. We enjoyed caring for two during our time providing respite (a short-term placement for children in foster care ranging from 2 days to a week), and figured we were ready to take on the challenge of caring for two precious beings full-time. We had the open bed (the term used when a foster home has space for a child) and felt it was our duty to fill that bed with another child who needs us. Now that we had the hang of one, two would be challenging, but awesome!

A few Friday’s ago I dropped Baby off for a day visit with her mother. The gut wrenching feeling started to come over me filling my body with anxiety and extreme discomfort.

I started breathing and praying and breathing and pleading for a relief from the pain.

“PLEASE help me deal with and accept that this baby’s mother wants her back and is going to get her back!” “PLEASE help me deal with this pain before I lose my mind!”

The one thing I feared the most was coming true. As much as I tried to prepare myself for this, it still hurts badly. (Read my blog Elation and Love like You’ll Never Be Hurt).

I went on with my day to my job as a Pilates Instructor. As I was teaching, my phone rang. It was the placement team from DFS (Department of Family Services.) I assumed they were calling me to do another respite, and was annoyed by this. That’s all I needed was a respite kid to love and give up a few days later.

The word assumes makes an ass out of u and me for a reason.

After teaching my lesson, I retrieved the message.

“We have a little girl who needs placement. She is 3-years-old, going to be 4 in a few months, and is potentially a permanent placement.”

After talking with my hubby and agreeing that we could take this on, with the possibility of permanency, we agreed, at the least, to meet her. Within 24 hours, she was in our home, playing with “her” toys and me falling in love.

5 days later she moved in, and we will do everything in our power to make sure she gets to stay.

When my husband and I decided to be foster parents, we agreed that any foster child who came into our home would stay in our home unless the family court judge decided differently. During my time at Boys Town as a Family Consultant, I worked with a number of children and teens who had been diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD). RAD can cause life-long difficulties in building healthy relationships with others. Education, career, family, friendships, and romantic relationships can all be negatively affected by this disorder throughout the child’s life. Children who are abused, neglected, or bounced from home to home are not able to form healthy bonds with caregivers, resulting in reactive attachment. With proper treatment, children can learn to build healthy relationships and have productive, fulfilling lives.

What an awesome four weeks this has been getting to know our precious 3 1/2-year-old foster daughter and her getting to know us. Getting the hang of caring for TWO little ones, AND two pre-teens, AND a husband, AND a home, AND our 5 furry family members. Not to mention my part-part-time job (only about 10 hours a week), and nurturing relationships with friends and family. AND I love it all!!!

I am actually very impressed with myself for holding it all together! Unlike the birth of a biological child whose families have had 6-9 months of preparation, we had about 72 hours to make a decision that could impact our lives forever.

It is stressful, and I yell sometimes. But I am on cloud nine (most of the time) and, once again, have complete confirmation that THIS is what I was meant to do! (Read my blog My Dream Came True If Only for 5 Days).

I am thankful for my husband who, along with being an awesome biological father, is a loving, attentive foster father. After a long day at work, he takes time to spend with his foster daughters AND his biological daughters. They adore him as his does them.

Although he may not admit it, he is enjoying reliving his favorite childhood memories.

Recently Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the original Christmas classic, is a favorite of our 3-year-old foster daughter. She won't sit through the whole movie, leaving her movie companion (my husband) left to watch it by himself.

“Babe, you can turn this off now. She’s not watching it,” I say to him.

“It’s OK,” he says; eyes glued to the TV.

“You like Rudolph, don’t you???” I tease him.

He gives me his playful, pouty look and says “No?” Implying he loves it.

This whole experience is so great for the both of us. It is bringing out our inner children, allowing for a more playful, relaxed atmosphere. From classic cartoons to Play dough to role-playing You Be the Baby and I Be the Mom which can get highly addictive when I am aloud to throw the temper tantrums! And she reprimands me with “Are you ganna be attitude? Come on.” She is so super cute that I break character and have to smile.

As far as my feelings towards my foster baby going home, I am slowly starting to find acceptance and peace. She started doing overnight visits with her mom a few weeks ago. I was nervous at first, but became confident over time that Baby is happy and being well taken care of during her visits. Her mother has gotten better at communicating with me and being open to my direction. When Baby sees her mommy, she beams with a smile, and every time I pick Baby up, she is happy, calm, and well taken care of.

From the beginning, I prayed for Baby to end up in the care of someone who will love her and keep her happy, healthy, and safe. Her mother appears to be doing just that. And this allows me to be at peace with her going home. The gut wrenching feeling is subsiding with every visit. I am genuinely happy for her mother and thankful that she has been able to use the resources provided to her.

Every parent whose child enters the foster care system is given a case-plan tailored to them according to their circumstances. They must fulfill the duties of the case-plan to regain custody of their children. The case-plan can include responsibilities such completing a drug rehab, domestic violence classes, establishing a residence, and completing child development and child care classes. Some parents choose to follow it and use it to their advantage to better their lives and the lives of their children. Some don’t. Luckily, Baby’s mother is.

I am so incredibly thankful for the life I have been given the privilege and blessing to create. The years of waiting, wishing, hoping and praying for children to care for on a full-time basis has finally come to fruition. My prayers have been answered, and for the first time in a long time I feel fulfilled, happy, and confident with what I have been blessed with.

As I sit here at my kitchen table at 7:41AM finishing this blog, I am watching my foster baby bounce in her play disc, my foster daughter sing to her Dora doll, and my husband sing along to Marry Had a Little Lamb.

Awesome! Harmonious! Beautiful! Wow! I am a lucky girl!

For more information on RAD go to www.mayoclinic.com and search reactive attachment disorder.