it isn't like packing for college

I think when you pack up your kid's room, you should be packing university sweatshirts, not onesies.  Maybe if you're moving your whole house, then you can pack someone's tiny socks along with everything else. But it's weird to pack up someone's entire belongings and have it only be three boxes. 

But that's what happens when everything is small. Small pants. Small PJs with dinosaurs on them. Small dress shirts with only four buttons. 

This is crappy.

I busied myself this evening working on what Children & Youth calls a "Life Book." But I have to be honest, this book only further establishes something that's very, very wrong with "the system." You see, there's only one page for me to fill out. There's a single page, on the front labelled "Pictures Birth to Age 5." Literally, I can take up two-fifths of this page to represent everything his life has meant since we met twenty-six months ago. Ridiculous. I just printed my first batch of pictures for this "Life Book," and Snapfish is now hard at work printing 167 photos of the cutest face you've ever seen.

One single page to represent five years. Five years.

So my family is to be a blip on two-fifths of a page in his "life." That's nice. But it does sum of the way CYS views us. A blip, to be forgotten. His whole life is still ahead of him, I won't argue that, but I do take issue with their view that a child's life starts at school age, that these two years weren't formative, that we are only worth 4 inches on a piece of paper.

His life has meant far more than this already.

Dear caseworkers,

I am a person. I can't talk much yet, but I have feelings. I have desires, dreams, and wishes. I use a sippy cup and wear a diaper, but I am perceptive. I know more than you understand. I react when I'm scared in subtle ways that you don't notice because you only see me two hours a month. I don't understand what's going on around me, but I want to feel safe. Two years may feel fast to you because you're 22, but it is my ENTIRE LIFE. Two years are all I've known.  Please treat me like a person. Please treat me like my life matters. 

Love,

The forgotten babies and toddlers of foster care

yesterday's gone

After court yesterday, I didn't want to go home. Not in a dramatic way, but I wanted to be out in nature and surrounded by people. So first we walked in a park, then we went shopping. My husband had our two youngest in the cart, and something distracted me, so I wandered off.

My littlest didn't, of course, understand that his life had been dramatically altered by a man's word just hours before. He doesn't know that in a few days, he's leaving forever the only home he's ever known in his 29 months of life: 872 days and counting. I guess it's a countdown now. 

As we shopped, he realized he couldn't see me, so he began calling out for me. 

"Mommy!"

"Mommy?"

"Mommy!"

"Mommeeee..."

I offered a fake smile when an older woman poked her head around the corner.

"Is he calling for you?" she asked.

"Don't worry," I said, "He's with his daddy, he isn't lost."

"Well, enjoy this then, because he won't be calling for you for long," she said with a smile and pushed her cart off.

...

I stood there, deeply affected by the simple, everyday advice from a likely grandma, the kind of thing my mom probably says to people harmlessly, and the kind of sentiment others have said to me dozens of times as a young mom.

"They don't stay little forever."

"Enjoy every moment."

"Savor the memories when they're small."

"They grow up so fast."

Her wording was unfortunate, as I know my son will soon, indeed, have another face in his mind when he calls for "mommy."  But at the same time, how could I wish for anything but their greatest success in their new relationship? How could my mothering love for this child not pray for him to have the very best future, including an intimate, caring relationship with his mommy?

I do not wish to be replaced, but I know I will be. God's plan is continuing to unfold before me. I choose to observe it and live in it in faith. The promises are just as real today as they were yesterday morning. 

So I will cherish these last few days, and I'm also reminded of a profound truth I read on the blog "Foster the Family":

Here's to goodbye
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon.

waiting for tomorrow

Photo from usgwarchives.net

I can't handle another emotional adrenaline rush, so I'm just enjoying today. Tomorrow we go to court. Again.

I'm not thinking about tomorrow and yesterday and the irony of Mother's Day and court falling a day apart.

I'm thinking about a giant pile of dirty dishes and who's going to fold all this laundry. I went to the gym and did a normal work-out (as opposed to the angry work-outs where I set personal bests). I went to the grocery store. I need to get gas in the van at some point.

Normal Monday. Actually, better: fun Monday!

Because life is real, and time is moving forward. And tomorrow is coming, whether there's a continuance on "Tuesday, May 16" or not, eventually there will be a day--some day--before the actual decision is made. Because this can't go on forever. This won't go on forever.

Eventually, someone will bang a gavel and my head will be in my hands and I'll swear under my breath and hug my husband, and then we'll know.

But not until then. 

So today, I'm enjoying a happy day of snuggles. I rocked lil' man all the way to sleep before nap, something I haven't take the time to do as often as he's gotten older. I hummed a lot. I did all the mommy things that busy mommies don't get to do enough. I put my nose on his nose and tickled him. I sniffed his ears to make him laugh. I looked through his beautiful, beautiful, beautiful newborn pictures and told him all about how tiny he was two years ago. He pointed and called himself "baby." I wiped banana out of his hair and then yogurt out of his hair and then white powder from cheese puffs out of his hair, and then I told him I was thinking about cutting off his hair, and he giggled, and I laughed because he's the cutest little dude. I changed his diaper twice, and I got him his "nana" which is his blankie, of course. Because I'm his mommy and mommies know that.

And you know what? I haven't cried. Because I'm his mommy today, and he's my son right now. 

But God

I cried on the way home from church yesterday. I guess it's ok because a lot of people feel emotional at Easter at church. He is risen! Except that's not why I was crying. I was crying because I feel like a dry, wrinkly sponge that has nothing left to give and just got run over by a car. Somehow there had been a tiny bit of life left, but now that moisture is squeezed out onto the pavement. The reserves are empty.

Wrung out. 

I know this is what we signed up for, BUT GOD can't you see what they're going to do?

You know Alexander and the terrible horrible no good very bad day? (The book, I didn't see the movie.) I feel like that. My ankle is twisted, my back is killing me, I'm not sleeping, the kids are a wreck, my husband is sick, my house is a construction zone, and tomorrow a stranger in a black robe gets to determine the future of my family.  It has been a terrible horrible no good very bad season.

I know you say you're here, BUT GOD it feels like we're all alone and falling apart.

And yet, God amazes me with his blessings. I try to wallow, but my friends and family won't let me! Already this morning, three people have texted me that they were praying for us. Everyone keeps bringing us good food! Come on, guys, just when I was going to let the darkness suck me in! Darn you all for pouring life into me when I feel like I'm ready to give up...

“My flesh and my heart fail; BUT GOD is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Ps. 73:26).

I am not looking forward to tomorrow. Sitting. Waiting. Saying difficult things. Hearing difficult things. (Probably being told to talk slower.) I'm going to cry either way. No, more likely, I'm going to steel myself like a robot and walk around with a smile that says 'I believe' even if I'm screaming inside. Or more likely, dead inside. Given up.

BUT GOD who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us... made us alive together with Christ (Eph 2:4-5)

I must remind myself three thousand times a day that, whatever the outcome, this was the good plan from the beginning. We were always marching towards this endgame. Nothing I did changed God's plan, and nothing anyone else did hindered Him from accomplishing His intentions.

For the battle is not yours, BUT GOD’s. (2 Chron 20:15)

I DO need to give up! I need to give up on myself. Stop thinking that I have anything inside me to give. Understand that I've never had anything worthwhile here inside myself. Just like the calling to foster parent was from Him, the sustaining power to DO IT has always been from Him.

We were harassed at every turn—conflicts on the outside, fears within. BUT GOD... comforts the downcast. (2 Cor 7:6)

Thank you, everyone, for your support. It's been an amazing 754 days. I'll let you know how day 755 goes.

By the way, a fourth and then fifth person just texted me. Literally right as I'm typing.

I hear you, Lord.  Thank you.

My Five-Day Countdown

Five days until a judge determines the future of my family.

Or will he? 

I choose to embrace the truth that in five days we will simply find out what God has had planned from the beginning. It isn’t a decision to be made; it’s a decision that has already been made. And it is GOOD, my friends. I don’t even know the outcome yet, but God’s decision is GOOD.

On Tuesday, we find out if my son is my son or not.

Sort of.

He’ll still be him. I’ll still be me. But if the judge decides to separate us and send him with his other mommy, will I still be Mama? I guess so. Maybe in a different way? Nothing will ever change that I was his Mama for two years, but it may not remain so as he grows up. I'll tell you Tuesday.

Do you grow out of being someone’s son? I don’t think I’ll grow out of being his Mama.

It’s weird to think that in two years, something so relevant about my life will be no more than a memory. Either his presence in our family will be a bittersweet, aching but fond memory, or this ever-present cloud of painful uncertainty will be a bad dream if he becomes forever ours.

Isaiah 55:8

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.

Proverbs 19:21

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.

Jeremiah 29:11

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Lamentations 3:22-24

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”

momma songs

Who needs to cry? Even if you've heard these songs before, you must listen to them right now and then share them with every foster or adoptive parent you know. Because, yes. YES. YES.

Kari Kimmel's Where You Belong

You might know this song as the theme to the TV show The Fosters.

The lyrics that will make you cry:

It's not where you come from
It's where you belong
Nothin' I would trade
I wouldn't have it any other way
You're surrounded
By love and you're wanted
So never feel alone
You are home with me
Right where you belong

Phillip Phillips' Home

You might know this song as the summer Olympics theme from London 2012.

The lyrics that will make you cry:

If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone
'Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Phil Collins' You'll Be In My Heart

You might know this song from Disney's Tarzan movie.

The lyrics that will make you cry:

Come stop your crying
It will be alright
Just take my hand
And hold it tight
For one so small,
You seem so strong
My arms will hold you,
Keep you safe and warm
I know we're different, but deep inside us
We're not that different at all