It has been 97 days.
97 days of living in childless home.
Too many days of waiting by the phone, too many days of hoping for “the call”
Last week, I was sitting on the couch having a moment to myself when the phone rang. I saw the prefix numbers for our local DHS. My heart skipped a few beats. I tried not to get too excited, because they can call for a number of reasons other than a placement.
I answered the phone trying not to sound so eager that I scared the case worker away. She was in fact calling for the placement of a baby boy (1 month old). I wont go into all the details, but this one sounded pretty promising; a potential forever situation. I informed the worker that I would need to consult my husband and would call her back within a few minutes. She has mentioned that the hearing was occurring as we spoke and placement would be within the few hours if he was placed. Life was going to change if we said “yes”.
I spoke to my husband and we decided that taking him would be a match for us. I called her back she said she would have a CPS worker in touch with us soon. When I got off the phone with her I was ecstatic. WE were going to be parents again to a squishy new baby. I couldn’t wait!
Minutes turned to an hour, an hour turned to a few hours, and a few hours turned into bed time. The call had not come. I was worried. Something must have happened and he was not coming into care with us. My heart sank. This was the first call we had gotten in 90 something days and I was excited.
There is something about knowing that out there somewhere in your area there is a little one who is in need of a home, someone to love on him, someone to make him feel special.
That night I laid in bed, thinking of what he looked like, how he was adjusting, the current situation which would cause him to need to be removed from his birth family.
The emotions are so varied, you want to be excited to have a baby, yet sad for the situation(s) he has been placed with leading to the removal process of all he has ever known in his short life. Its a battle of emotions I haven’t won yet.
The next morning, I sent a text to the worker. She informed me that court had been rescheduled for 10am that morning. More waiting….. There was a high probability that he could be placed with his birth father instead of us. My heart sank. Unfortunately, blood trumps everything. I knew that the odds were not in our favor.
Shortly after the 10am time frame, we received word that he was not going to be placed with us.
I didn’t even cry. I wasn’t going to allow myself to cry over something I never had to begin with. I hadn’t even met the baby, there was nothing to mourn. Yet, why did I feel like I had lost so much?
Each day that passes, I feel less about the call that occurred last week, and feel more at ease knowing that there has to be other calls coming our way soon. This one was just not the right match for us.
Wherever baby boy is, I hope that he is safe, loved and most of all wanted by his caretaker…