I survived the weekend, but spent most of yesterday with palpitations.
We’re still waiting on word as to whether or not our county will accept jurisdiction. Currently, it’s still looking like a no.
Though someone, somewhere said that they would approve an ICPC (that’s an interstate placement) for our home should that come up.
Mostly though, we still don’t know. We did find out that the child is on hold in the hospital, while mom, who confessed to the previous case (have I mentioned she’s coo, coo for coacoa puffs) was sent home. So we found her because she told the hospital case worker, who thought this woman may be a little off (yeah….), that she’d lost a child already.
I finally got a hold of someone else to email. And did. I’m still waiting to hear back. We’ve also got her number and Leo (change it up, keep ’em guessing, don’t let them rest) will be calling later today if we don’t get a response.
In the meantime, I’m trying to pray the hardest prayer of all…”your will be done” But I’m not doing a very good job, because I’m also turning my house upside down to get it perfect in hopes that someone one will want to see where baby girl will sleep. And to displace my nervous energy.
So, I imagine that some may be wondering why I’m so worked up over this child. It’s not that I’m longing for a newborn. Been there, done that. And if I really wanted a newborn. I could call up my placement worker and I know she would me put me on the list. And I’m feeling pretty full with my wild boy and baby D. So, I’m not really sitting here just wishing I had another diaper to change or bottle to prepare.
Here’s the cincher: I can’t really explain the aching, panic I feel when I imagine her motherless, in a hospital nursery. I can’t really explain the anguish I experience when I think about the fact that she’s going to have a minimum of two placement upsets if she’s transferred to my home in a few months (which is how long this process can take). I think though, it’s because we have personal, first hand knowledge of the kind of home she was born into. I know of the potential hopelessness and darkness and danger she was saved from. And I have a vested interest in this family. And I have her brother. And for his sake, I want him to have his sister. I feel like he’s lost a lot. His mother. His father. Yes, he’s gained a lot. And what he’s gained is surely better than what he’s lost. But it’s not fair to minimize the loss. Or assume that the warmth and love he gets here makes the loss he’s experienced less apparent. And if there’s a chance to keep him from losing anyone else, his sister at that, then I want to do that for him.
I think the hardest part is knowing that I really don’t have control over any of that. And it scares me.
So, I’ll keep cleaning. And clearing out space. And praying. And pacing. And hoping. Against all hope, in hope, right? That’s my mantra: Against all hope, in hope we believe…