Nothing happened as a result of the court hearing. A big fat nothing.
Up next is waiting to see if the adoption worker will change her mind about Chris being placed with us, based on a report the SW submitted about our already-existing relationship with him.
Maybe next week?
If not, the next court hearing is scheduled for about a month from now.
On the bright side, at least we know. At least we won't sit here waiting for the phone to ring. And at least I won't have to carry my cell phone around in my bra for the next five hours so I don't miss it ringing. I can go out into the world.
Maybe my first stop should be to the cell phone store to buy a case for my cell phone so it no longer must reside in my bra.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Not Today
Most days I can take the waiting.
Waiting for the phone to ring.
Waiting for a SW to get back to us.
Waiting to see if our e-mails get a response.
Waiting to find out what’s going on with a case.
Waiting to see what a judge rules.
Waiting to see if we are ever, ever going to be parents.
Not today. I just don’t have it in me. I feel like my head is going to explode.
O is calmer than I am, but his stomach is in knots too.
We have to get out of this house, so my wonderful husband is playing a little bit of hooky from work and we are taking our dog to the park.
Perhaps heat stroke will take my mind off of things.
Waiting for the phone to ring.
Waiting for a SW to get back to us.
Waiting to see if our e-mails get a response.
Waiting to find out what’s going on with a case.
Waiting to see what a judge rules.
Waiting to see if we are ever, ever going to be parents.
Not today. I just don’t have it in me. I feel like my head is going to explode.
O is calmer than I am, but his stomach is in knots too.
We have to get out of this house, so my wonderful husband is playing a little bit of hooky from work and we are taking our dog to the park.
Perhaps heat stroke will take my mind off of things.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Historically, when I’ve prayed about us adopting, I’ve simply asked for our child to find his or her way to us, whenever and however that is supposed to happen. All in God’s time, after all. Today I guess I didn’t have it in me to do that. As I was sitting in the parking lot of my allergist's office, waiting to be able to leave after my allergy shot, I closed my eyes and prayed.
Dear God,
I want to raise this beautiful little boy.
I want to watch O show him how to throw a football.
I want to dye Easter eggs with him for the Easter Bunny to hide.
I want to see his crazy curly hair radiating around his head like a halo every morning.
I want to teach him his ABC’s.
I want to meet his first girlfriend.
I want to cry when we send him off to kindergarten. And college.
I want to comfort him when he has a bad dream.
I want to roll my eyes and sigh when he’s fingerpainted my fridge with pudding. Again.
I want to send him into our backyard to run off some of his energy with our sweet dog Jackson.
I want to blow bubbles with him.
I want to make him giggle with delight.
I want to see him crawl up in O’s lap to watch TV.
I want to shudder at the cost of the shoes for his xx-wide feet.
I want to hear him read his first book.
I want to go to his ball games, or his concerts, or his plays.
I want to toss him into the tub after a long, dirty day of playing on the farm.
I want to teach him to drive. Well, maybe O will have to do that.
I want to wash his clothes and make his food and listen to his chatter.
I want to kiss his owies and make everything okay for him for as long as I can.
I want to hear what he sounds like when he sings.
I want to look into his face and marvel that he’s ours.
I want to make him lunches that he’ll trade for candy and rocks in the lunchroom.
I want to take him to the ocean and watch him bob in the waves.
I want to make sure he knows how much his birthmom loves him.
I want to be his mom.
I don’t know if any of these dreams about Chris will come true. It’s not looking good at this point. But I'm praying they do. I'm praying so hard.
Dear God,
I want to raise this beautiful little boy.
I want to watch O show him how to throw a football.
I want to dye Easter eggs with him for the Easter Bunny to hide.
I want to see his crazy curly hair radiating around his head like a halo every morning.
I want to teach him his ABC’s.
I want to meet his first girlfriend.
I want to cry when we send him off to kindergarten. And college.
I want to comfort him when he has a bad dream.
I want to roll my eyes and sigh when he’s fingerpainted my fridge with pudding. Again.
I want to send him into our backyard to run off some of his energy with our sweet dog Jackson.
I want to blow bubbles with him.
I want to make him giggle with delight.
I want to see him crawl up in O’s lap to watch TV.
I want to shudder at the cost of the shoes for his xx-wide feet.
I want to hear him read his first book.
I want to go to his ball games, or his concerts, or his plays.
I want to toss him into the tub after a long, dirty day of playing on the farm.
I want to teach him to drive. Well, maybe O will have to do that.
I want to wash his clothes and make his food and listen to his chatter.
I want to kiss his owies and make everything okay for him for as long as I can.
I want to hear what he sounds like when he sings.
I want to look into his face and marvel that he’s ours.
I want to make him lunches that he’ll trade for candy and rocks in the lunchroom.
I want to take him to the ocean and watch him bob in the waves.
I want to make sure he knows how much his birthmom loves him.
I want to be his mom.
I don’t know if any of these dreams about Chris will come true. It’s not looking good at this point. But I'm praying they do. I'm praying so hard.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Beware of AFV
I woke up early this morning and lay in bed watching O sleep for a while. I thought about yesterday’s craziness wondering what today would bring. I closed my eyes, running through the faces of all the children we’d thought were going to be our children over the past three years. Such beautiful little faces.
When O woke up, we laid in bed as we almost always do, watching a few minutes of news, some sports, and a little bit of “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” It’s good to start the morning laughing.
I was so content in that moment, snuggled up with O in our nice warm bed. Then AFV played a series of videos of parents surprising their kids with trips to Disneyland/world. The last little girl was probably eight, and when she realized where they were going, she had a laughing, crying breakdown. She was just so dear. And I started crying, just enough for the headache I’ve been keeping at bay for the last 24 hours to return.
I am so weary in this journey.
But loves always hopes and because I love our child – a child I may never have met – may never meet – I continue to hope. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.
So today I will keep the Tylenol and the phone close and hope with all my heart that one day soon I can sit down at this desk and write these words:
“Chris is ours.”
When O woke up, we laid in bed as we almost always do, watching a few minutes of news, some sports, and a little bit of “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” It’s good to start the morning laughing.
I was so content in that moment, snuggled up with O in our nice warm bed. Then AFV played a series of videos of parents surprising their kids with trips to Disneyland/world. The last little girl was probably eight, and when she realized where they were going, she had a laughing, crying breakdown. She was just so dear. And I started crying, just enough for the headache I’ve been keeping at bay for the last 24 hours to return.
I am so weary in this journey.
But loves always hopes and because I love our child – a child I may never have met – may never meet – I continue to hope. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.
So today I will keep the Tylenol and the phone close and hope with all my heart that one day soon I can sit down at this desk and write these words:
“Chris is ours.”
Monday, June 21, 2010
Whiplash
Amy decided that she wanted O and I to raise her son Chris. She was ready to go in and sign the papers relinquishing her rights to D**CFS this morning, with the understanding that we would be adopting him. The social worker was on board, just clearing up a few details about who needed to be present for signing the paperwork.
You can imagine when I found out this morning that this was actually happening, I was walking on air. O was walking on air. We were grateful and humbled and feeling so blessed.
For exactly one hour.
I called one of my dearest girlfriends, Karen, and told her the news. She was cautiously thrilled for us, knowing that NOTHING is for sure when it comes to the foster system, having been a foster mom herself.
I told her that we were keeping perspective but that we were choosing to be excited for the moment, expecting a curve ball to come flying in at any point.
*cue ringing phone*
Literally.
When the SW spoke with the county’s adoption worker, she said they wouldn’t be able to place Chris with us because since he is under the age of three, he is still considered an infant and would be easy to place. Therefore he should go into their database and be adopted in-state.
Please keep in mind that both her SW and HER supervisor have been begging Amy to think of someone to place him with. Begging. There was no qualifier stating that it had to be someone in-state. I would have thought they’d be happy to be presented with a home studied and approved foster and adoptive home – one where the people already have a relationship with Chris and Amy. Apparently not.
Amy is livid and heartbroken, knowing that there is a distinct possibility that she may lose her son and never see him again.
The SW is livid and working hard to get this mess sorted out. (The first step is to establish that O and I have a relationship with Chris, which we do.)
O and I are feeling a familiar sense of déjà vu where we get so close to our dream we can almost, almost touch it, and a curveball comes from nowhere and smacks us in the head.
There is still hope. The SW may be able to establish our relationship with Chris to the adoption worker’s satisfaction. Also, there is a court hearing later this week and if Amy gets up there, stands her ground, and says, “They asked me to find someone I knew to place my son with. THAT is what I did and THAT is where I want him placed” the judge may simply rule for that to happen. There is also the possibility of some new turn of events that we couldn’t even foresee – one that is good for our “team”.
But for now, all we can do is to wait for the phone to ring. In the meantime I’ll go take some tyl*enol for this pounding headache. And maybe turn the ceiling fan on and take a nap. Those curveballs hurt sometimes.
What a crappy, crappy day to have re-started Weigh&t Watch$ers.
You can imagine when I found out this morning that this was actually happening, I was walking on air. O was walking on air. We were grateful and humbled and feeling so blessed.
For exactly one hour.
I called one of my dearest girlfriends, Karen, and told her the news. She was cautiously thrilled for us, knowing that NOTHING is for sure when it comes to the foster system, having been a foster mom herself.
I told her that we were keeping perspective but that we were choosing to be excited for the moment, expecting a curve ball to come flying in at any point.
*cue ringing phone*
Literally.
When the SW spoke with the county’s adoption worker, she said they wouldn’t be able to place Chris with us because since he is under the age of three, he is still considered an infant and would be easy to place. Therefore he should go into their database and be adopted in-state.
Please keep in mind that both her SW and HER supervisor have been begging Amy to think of someone to place him with. Begging. There was no qualifier stating that it had to be someone in-state. I would have thought they’d be happy to be presented with a home studied and approved foster and adoptive home – one where the people already have a relationship with Chris and Amy. Apparently not.
Amy is livid and heartbroken, knowing that there is a distinct possibility that she may lose her son and never see him again.
The SW is livid and working hard to get this mess sorted out. (The first step is to establish that O and I have a relationship with Chris, which we do.)
O and I are feeling a familiar sense of déjà vu where we get so close to our dream we can almost, almost touch it, and a curveball comes from nowhere and smacks us in the head.
There is still hope. The SW may be able to establish our relationship with Chris to the adoption worker’s satisfaction. Also, there is a court hearing later this week and if Amy gets up there, stands her ground, and says, “They asked me to find someone I knew to place my son with. THAT is what I did and THAT is where I want him placed” the judge may simply rule for that to happen. There is also the possibility of some new turn of events that we couldn’t even foresee – one that is good for our “team”.
But for now, all we can do is to wait for the phone to ring. In the meantime I’ll go take some tyl*enol for this pounding headache. And maybe turn the ceiling fan on and take a nap. Those curveballs hurt sometimes.
What a crappy, crappy day to have re-started Weigh&t Watch$ers.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
H-96
Today is brought to you by the letter H and the number 96.
H is for renewed HOPE.
H is for HOLY COW I can’t believe how quickly things can change.
H is for HOW MUCH I wish I could say more.
H is for HERE’S HOPING I haven’t jinxed it by saying this much.
H is for the HUNDREDS of prayers I’m going to say over the next few days.
H is for HOW HIGH I’m going to jump every time the phone rings.
H is for how HAPPY we are tonight – cautiously optimistic – but HAPPY.
96 is the number of hours it may be before we know something. I like the number 24 so much better. Don't you?!?!
H is for renewed HOPE.
H is for HOLY COW I can’t believe how quickly things can change.
H is for HOW MUCH I wish I could say more.
H is for HERE’S HOPING I haven’t jinxed it by saying this much.
H is for the HUNDREDS of prayers I’m going to say over the next few days.
H is for HOW HIGH I’m going to jump every time the phone rings.
H is for how HAPPY we are tonight – cautiously optimistic – but HAPPY.
96 is the number of hours it may be before we know something. I like the number 24 so much better. Don't you?!?!
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