Another Update - Baby N

I know, I'm a posting machine!  I actually meant to put this with the previous post, but I'm traveling, and got food poisoning so yesterday afternoon was spent sleeping and trying not to puke.  Awesome.  Since I had scheduled the post, it went ahead and posted itself right on time. 

Today is slightly better.  Less pukey, but more like I've been hit by a truck.  I'll take it.  Anyway, I'm attempting to work (Value Engineering Study, yay) but really still don't feel like it. 

Yesterday I spoke with our caseworker and inquired about Baby N's status.  It's something that we have been becoming increasingly curious about now that it's been a couple months since everything fell apart for us.  He's still with the cradle care family as the county allowed him to stay in that home because they are licensed for foster-care, and he's been weaned off of his meds.  His father filed for paternity in the court and is waiting for the hearing to determine if he's fit to parent.

As our caseworker stated, everything that could go wrong, went wrong, and from our perspective it was a worst-case scenario situation.  Even though Baby N's father does not appear to be fit to parent to us, that doesn't necessarily preclude his ability to get custody of Baby N.  From my point of view, it's really sad if he does, because I sincerely doubt that he has the resources and the maturity to deal with Baby N's on-going issues.  I suppose that he could suddenly grow up and become an adult.  Given my perspective as an adult who has my shit together, and has the resources to provide a stable home to Baby N, it's hard to root for this guy.  I think this is where adoptive parents get dragged down into these cases and hold onto the fight way longer than they should.  If we had Baby N in our home at this time, and we were learning more details about his father, you can be damn sure we'd be hoping for parental rights to be terminated.  As it is, we knew that we would not be able to hand Baby N over to this guy willingly, so we had to walk away from the entire situation. 

We made the right decision to walk away.  I hope that when other prospective adoptive parents find themselves in a similar situation, they are able to have the strength to walk away instead of fight.  Birth parents have the right to parent their children, and if the courts decide that they are fit to parent, and can provide a stable home, then they should parent their children.  Through our lenses of the adoptive parent, it may not seem like the right decision, but it IS the right decision.  We are clouded by our own grief over our inability to procreate, by our own status in society as upstanding citizens (the homestudy is supposed to screen us for that after all) and by many accounts have suffered much grief and anger over the situations that lead us down this path.  When faced with these untenable situations, we have to step back and realize that someone else, an impartial party is the one to make the decision regarding the future of the child.  We are not impartial.  We can't be.

1 Year Ago Today at 7:00am

As I scrambled to grab Baby X, keys, lunch and coffee to get out the door and go to work, S called from the road:  "We aren't going to work today."  I brought Baby X to day care, called work to tell my supervisor I wasn't coming in, rushed home, changed into comfortable clothes and packed an overnight bag.  S called his supervisor, turned the truck around, and called his parents to know that they needed to pick up Baby X from daycare.  We  met at home, excited, nervous and frantically making sure that we had all the logistics worked out.

At about 9:30am we met our caseworker at the hospital and went up to D's room to visit.  She looked exhausted (Axton was born very early in the morning) and we were extremely nervous.  We asked if we could hold him, and she nodded.  He was pretty darn cute in that just-born kind of way.  She asked what we were planning on naming him and we told her.  She said she liked it.  We met the social worker at the hospital briefly and our caseworker helped us get settled as it were, saying that if we needed anything we should let her know.  We thought we had it.  We would let Axton stay with D as much as she wanted to and mostly spend time with them together.  Little did we know that we were embarking on a difficult hospital stay (our caseworker's words as we have no experience other than this one).

I felt too weird the first night to ask if we could have him in our room, and then the second night, D and her family kept us out of her room except to say goodnight.  That's when we started freaking out. The nurse on duty assured us that her grieving process was typical and that it was a good sign that she had started to recognize what was happening rather than being shut down and not dealing with the feelings as she had the first day.

We should have freaked out.  We should have called our caseworker that night and told her to get cradle care (temporary foster care) set up.  We should have told our caseworker the next day that we were too uncomfortable to bring Axton home.  But D insisted that she knew that this was the best thing to do given her rocky situation and what she had been through trying to raise her daughter by herself.  She knew she was going to be sad, but also knew that we were going to see her soon (yes, she had to trust us on that, but we don't renege on our agreements).

Should've, should've, should've.  You know when you have a gut feeling and you ignore it?  I ignored my gut.  How do I know I ignored my gut?  Because one year later, I can clearly remember and still feel like I was there...the moment in the hospital cafeteria working through paperwork that I felt like something was wrong.  That he wasn't our baby.  But I pushed it away, trusting that D's caseworker, and our caseworker could read the situation better given their detachment.  We were an emotional mess - excited, scared, sad, who knew if what I was feeling was really something or just me being kind of a wreck in a situation that was unfamiliar?

And so, I continue to beat myself up for not speaking up.  For not taking the stand that something just didn't feel right about taking him home.  For not realizing that the interactions I had with D showed me much more than she was revealing to her caseworker.  It's a struggle to convince myself that I didn't know that we would be bringing Axton back to the agency 3 days after taking him home from the hospital.

One year ago today.  I embarked on a week long journey that ended horribly.  That changed my perspective on adoption.  I still grieve today for that little baby I held and showed to Baby X, my parents, S's parents, the picture I emailed to a coworker.  I grieve that our family-building journey was almost over and then it was yanked away with a phone call. I grieve for me and S in that we have been broken by both the infertility and adoption processes.  Any call about a match now will only result in anxiety and fear until we know for sure that the baby will be ours.  There's no room for joy when we know how fast it can be pulled away, again.

Strong

Me:  I feel like I'm weak.

Therapist:  Why?  Doing what's best for your family makes you strong.

Thankfully Therapist had an opening yesterday and I could go in and be angry and hash through everything that happened (or didn't happen as the case is) over the past week and a half.  The last failed match I was angry that D dragged us through her chaos all the while insisting that she knew this was what she needed/wanted and it's what she wanted for Baby A.  I was angry that she didn't own up to wanting to parent before we took him home from the hospital.  Logically, I know that it may have taken her trying to make the break before she realized she was making a huge mistake, but the emotions that I went through were anything but logical.   I'm angry again, but I'm angry at a different person in a totally different situation.  I'm angry that Baby N may end up in the foster system because of this person's actions (or inaction as the case is at the moment).  And I say shame on you to the person who has not made any kind of progress towards claiming their right to parent.  Shame on you for not being there for your child.  Shame on you for not being supportive the months you knew about the situation, and shame on you for not picking up the fucking phone to find out what's going on and what you need to do. 

It's hard to own up to this anger as an adoptive parent.  We are supposed to say and do the right things, think child-centric, be compassionate to the parents, and sometimes to let ourselves get hurt during the process.  Because we do get hurt during the process.  As I face another failed match, I've been thinking about the anti- people.  The people who would gleefully read my posts about heartache over someone else's baby.  The people who would gladly target me (and who have) as a baby-stealer.  The people who would ask me why I don't adopt from foster care because those are the children who need it.  That's the one that hurts the most.  Why don't I look into foster?  Why can't I do that?

I. Just. Can't.  I am not wired to live my life constantly in limbo.  When I'm in limbo physically or emotionally, my life falls apart.  Stress takes over and it's all I can do to keep moving forward one day at a time.  Everything suffers from my concentration at work to patience in dealing with people close to me.  When I'm in limbo I live in a constant state of when will it happen, how will it happen, what will happen?  It sucks and I can't do it.  I would love to be the type of person who can do it.  Who is ready at any moment to pick up a child, and care for them until some sort of resolution comes along.  We could have moved ahead with a formal placement with Baby N knowing that he may be leaving our home at any time.  If it goes to the county, the county may remove him because we are not foster parents as we haven't gone through the training.  The county could leave him in our home, and then we could wait out the lengthy process of whose rights get terminated, or not.  At the end of the process, Baby N may stay in our home, or not.  The point is, we don't know what will happen.  We would be signing ourselves up for months or years of limbo.

Is that fair to Baby X?  No.  I need to be there for Baby X.  He doesn't need his parents to be distracted by the what-ifs of this case.  He needs us, present and aware and not emotional heaps of nerves. We need to be there for each other, and we need to recognize what we are capable of and where our boundaries are.  Boundaries make us strong, and knowing when to walk away makes us strong.

I recognize what I can and can not handle.  I am strong.  I gave Baby N more emotional support over a week and half than anyone had given him in the first few weeks of his life.  All I can hope, is that it helped him.  All I can hope is that my hurt is not for nothing.

And the anti-people can kiss my ass.

0 for 2

It's over.  Again.

The entire case for placing the baby for adoption is in jeopardy.  This isn't a simple "change of mind" kind of case, it's way more complicated than that and it may drag on for months.  The agency may have to turn it over to the county.

We are not foster parents.  

We are walking away.  

I've thought over and over again how to discuss the situation on my blog, but since we are no longer part of the story unless something drastically changes before we are matched again, I'm not comfortable putting it in a public forum.  Suffice to say, this is something that we never thought we'd be facing, and we are not in any position to face a court challenge.  If this baby's father truly can parent, then I hope he steps up and claims his position as his father and provides a safe and stable home.

How We Are Approaching a Match After a Failed Placement

We could have had a placement ceremony already and just be waiting for the baby to come home, but we didn't.  After the excruciating experience of packing a baby's things and driving them back to the agency 3 days after placement, we can't just dive in again.  When we were matched and placed with Baby A last summer we chose to believe his mom and the agency that it was going to be successful.  We tossed all the eggs into the basket so to speak, and drove away happily on a Friday afternoon.  The following Monday afternoon, it all came crashing down in spectacular fashion.

Fuck no, I am not putting myself through that again.

So, there's been no placement.  Why, when there's no question that his mother will be terminating rights?  Because there's the other half of the equation, the baby's father.  Normally, this would have gone much differently.  The prospective adoptive parents would have thought nothing of going through with placement immediately in this case.  It really seems like a slam dunk given the circumstances, to any other prospective adoptive family.  But we've been there.  To the ultimate dark side for an adoptive parent.  We have struggled to build our family for so long, have been caring and compassionate towards the mothers who feel that they have to place their babies, have opened the door wide to including them in our family, because after all, they are the families of our children too. To have what we thought was the end of the journey yanked away was devastating.  We felt broken and numb and grieved for months over it.  And, even though we felt broken, we realized that Baby A and his mom needed to be together.  Even though she thought that it was the right decision at the time, once she was separated from him she couldn't bear to be away from him and she realized that she could make it work.

Bringing me to this baby's father.  Normally, the father is brushed off, not a potential roadblock, they probably won't contest the adoption.  This father is being presented as that type of guy, and he may well be, but what if he's not?  He has the right to parent.  If he is in a place of his life where a light bulb may have gone on and he realized that he should take responsibility, then he should be granted that right.  This baby is his child.  We don't know exactly what he knows and doesn't know, so until he is handed those papers, we don't know how this will turn out.  Unfortunately, he wasn't handed papers when we thought he was, and we are still in limbo.

It's hard to keep that thought in my head though, "this is his child and if he can parent and he wants to parent, he should be able to" when I'm in the NICU holding his baby, promoting attachment between me and his baby, and giving the love and affection that nurses don't.  (Nurses are great, they just have to have some detachment to do this job, because well, emotions will get you every time).  My day to day life is melding into one - taking X to daycare, going to the hospital, hanging out for several hours, feeling guilty about going home, worrying whether this is my baby or not, attempting to figure out dinner with S, staring a sinkful of dishes then saying fuck it and having another glass of wine.

I'm currently signed out of work under "family emergency".  I haven't told my parents, but I told a brother out of state and swore him to secrecy.  I haven't told any friends.  I'm trying to pretend like it's business as usual, except that its not.  S has told his family, although he has kept details minimal.

I want so bad to be able to tell everyone that this is my baby, that my family building days are finally over, but I can't.  People don't know what to do when a match fails.  They don't understand the devastation it wreaks on our psyche, and they seem to assume that you'll get over it because you didn't have the baby that long.  Is it perhaps, similar to a miscarriage?  I would guess it is, but I've never had a miscarriage so I don't know.  Anyway, because people don't understand it, we just can't let them be privy to the information before it happens.  I want help because damn it, the baby is in a NICU and it isn't exactly close to my house!  I have some romantic notion that when a baby is in the NICU that the parents get all kinds of love and support and home cooked meals, and house cleaning, and babysitting....delusional, right?  But it's there, that ridiculous romanticized notion of a village helping each other.  I want to scream to everyone that this is hard, the hospital is hard (and old, and ugly) and kangaroo care in a common room is slightly embarrassing even if I'm wearing a sports bra, and I hate wearing sports bras unless I'm working out, and I don't have any fucking button down shirts so now I have to go shopping.....well, you get the picture.

But, I'm not screaming, yet.  I'm too scared that this match might fall through after I've spent multiple days in a hospital caring for a baby who is not yet mine.

Updates All Around

So, we were able to connect with C, and have a visit, albeit a quick one.  The lack of communication was simply busyness with life.  So, my anxiousness over why we weren't hearing anything wasn't particularly helpful.  Part of the issue is a difference in how we schedule and communicate.  I schedule everything.  I like to know what I'm doing every weekend before the weekend shows up, even if it's a no-plan type of weekend.  It's an innate part of my personality, and I forget that not everyone is that organized.  In fact, most of the world is not, and it's something that I have to get over.  The other thing I have to get over is the guilt I may face someday when C wants to see X and we can't because we already planned to do something.  When I don't set boundaries am not available to the people I think I should be available too, I feel guilty when scheduling doesn't work out.  Never mind that I have to live my life and it isn't my fault that scheduling falls through now and again.  Somehow, I manage to make it my fault and beat myself up endlessly.

Time to change that.  Baby steps.

One way that I'm finally setting boundaries and limits is in the next adoption wait.  I am done fielding the phone calls from the agency, and during our homestudy update meeting, turned that responsibility over to S.  Now when they have a question about profiling us, he'll get the initial phone call and be able to decide whether he needs my input or if he can make the call himself.  Most of the time I think he'll ask me, since we tend to make decisions together, but at least I won't be getting the lunch time phone call that decimates the rest of my afternoon.  He can decimate his.  More likely, he'll compartmentalize and be able to continue working, something I wish I could do better.  Hopefully, the next phone call will be the one, but I needed to relinquish that control to stay sane no matter what happens next.  We also talked to our caseworker about how we feel about the next match.  Without question, there will be walls up, and I have a feeling it is going to be difficult to connect with someone during a pre-birth match.  We spent so much energy reassuring D, being supportive and understanding, only to have it all fall apart.  I can't see expending that much energy again.  So, our caseworker has instructions to bring up the failed match with prospective first parents and to let them know that we might seem distant until all papers are signed.  It's all we can do.

Baby X is still a pretty picky eater at home, and it goes in phases how picky he is at day care.  So, we'll just roll with it for now, offering a variety of foods plus the ones we know he'll eat.  Meh.  He's gaining weight, so I guess it's fine, plus he'll eat any fruit we put in front of him, so that's at least good.

Angry Geo-Chick

It's not pretty.  Funny enough, I can't even tell you how many times I have told myself not to blog while angry with a couple of glasses of wine in me.  I can't follow my own advice!

Anyway, yesterday, Father's Day, was the WORST Fat.her's Day on record for me.  Honestly, I could give a flying f--- that it's for the dad's and all that.  I woke up pissed off, got into an argument with S before he left for his bike ride, was angry at my in-laws, which translated into being a b*tch when we went over to their house for lunch.  Ran home from lunch to prep dinner because I thought we were feeding my parents after my Jaz.zercise class, only to get a text at 4pm (25 minutes before class) that they were going to eat prior to coming over.  Then, my brother apparently can't communicate with me, and as we were feeding X and needing to put him to bed (he didn't get a good nap because of the lunch-time schedule, which ticked me off even more) brother2 decides that he to is going to pop by and texts my mother.  Not me.  Seriously.

Soon, we have to go on vacation and stay in the same house as my parents (I had a hotel room, but when Baby A came along I cancelled it thinking we better save some money.  Maybe I'll try to find something last minute, but when people schedule their weddings around July 4, it's less likely I'll find something).  There (as always) is more family drama playing out that I'm not exactly privy to, but I know there's some swirling ridiculousness.  And, there will be a surprise bridal shower for my cousin getting married in the fall.  How many people on the guest list?  70.  Where will it be held?  My aunt's backyard.  Can't wait.

So, why was I pissed off on Fat.her's Day?  According to Therapist, the type of grief we are going through doesn't follow the "normal" grief pattern.  And shit will just trigger even if I was feeling fine one day, the next day might suck ass.  That was yesterday.  I didn't want to see anyone.  I wanted to do stuff around the house.  There was nothing relaxing about the day.  Nothing got accomplished, and we have to go back to the in-laws next weekend for birthdays!  S and I at least agreed on one thing yesterday.  Next year, forget it.  Mo.ther's Day and Fat.her's Day are OURS.  We have to take back our May and June.  May is my nephews b-day, my b-day, Mot.her's Day and X's b-day.  June is Fath.er's Day, S's b-day and sis-in-law's b-day.  Every goddamn weekend is taken up by this shit and I'm done with it.  I say we dump my birthday, have everyone over for X's birthday party and leave it at that.  I'll freaking mail Mo.ther's Day cards as my idea of Moth.er's Day is not to run all over town, or to play hostess.  June - One day for Fa.ther's day and the two birthdays.  That's it.  We want to go camping and do some fun outdoor stuff before fire bans kick in and we always miss it because of family obligations. 

Talk About Not Getting It

S's family has not said one word of support to me about the failed placement.  My parents act like everything is back to normal.  At work, I'm getting a whole lot of side-eye and avoidance.

A Failed Placement

*I'm going back to initials.  The pseudonyms aren't doing it for me*

That picture is super cute, isn't it?  We have bunches of cute pics of a baby boy who isn't going to be our son.

As you've been following, a baby boy, A, was born on a Wednesday.  We spent two days in the hospital where we were respectful of D's space and let her have as much time with A as she wanted.  We had him for a couple hours the first day when she napped, and about a couple hours the second day when our parents came to visit.  The hospital staff were awesome, both to us and her, and we were really pleased with how they handled the situation.  We spent the bulk of our time with D in her room passing around A, getting to know her, and letting her get to know us.  We spent time with her mom, one of her friends, and briefly with A's dad (who forgot our names, and barely acknowledged us, but that's a whole other issue).  On the second day our caseworker stopped by and talked alone with D for quite a while.  She was positive and thought that while D was starting to feel all the emotions she had kept at bay throughout the entire pregnancy, she was still feeling that adoption was the solution.  When our parents came to visit, D really wanted to meet them because she said she wanted to meet our family since we had met hers.  It worked out ok, and while we were comfortable, it was clear all the grandparents were ill at ease.  That evening, D's mom asked us to leave the room when the last of D's sisters showed up for a visit.  After we came back from dinner, there was a "Do Not Disturb" sign on D's door instructing us to contact the nurse.  The nurse told us that D was having a really hard time, and just wanted to spend the night alone with A.  We were allowed to go in to say good night.  I held D as she sobbed, I sobbed, S sobbed, her mom sobbed.   Then S and I left the hospital, opting not to stay the second night since it was obvious that we weren't going to spend time with A.  Neither one of us had a good feeling at this point and spent an anxiety-ridden night at home.

Friday morning we called our caseworker to let her know what had happened, and she advised us to go to the hospital with her.  Another caseworker was brought in to talk with D and to find out if she wanted to go through with the placement.  (D had a falling out with her original caseworker, which is why our caseworker ended up picking up some of the slack, and a new person had to be brought in to support her on placement day.)  We got to the hospital, started our paperwork with our caseworker in the hospital cafe and waited to hear news.  We got the call from D's caseworker, that D was going through with placement and went up to her room.  She was sad, but seemed at peace with the decision.  We had the placement ceremony in her room and we all left the hospital together with the promise that I would send her an e-mail as soon as we got settled in.

I sent the e-mail to both her and A's dad as promised hours after getting home.  Over the weekend we went to a friend's party (crawfish boil, yum!) and had X's birthday party with family and some close friends.  We joked about traveling this summer to a wedding with two kids.  S and I reveled in the thought that we were done family building.  At the end of the weekend, D sent an e-mail asking for a picture fix, and we sent another little update on A and a few pictures.

On Monday, I settled into life on maternity leave, albeit with one hell of a head cold.  S and I took A to his well-baby visit in the morning, and in the afternoon the phone call came.   "She wants to parent".

S drove home from work (I have no idea how, I couldn't even get off the couch I was crying so hard), and we talked to our caseworker over the phone.  It was decided that we would place A into cradle care, as we couldn't see caring for him while D gets it together enough to prove that she can parent.  D wanted to meet with us, but we couldn't handle it and said no.  We bundled up A and drove him over to the office to transfer him to cradle care.  Ironically, with the same family who had X before he was placed with us.  When they got there we heard "Oh my G-d, you're kidding" in the hallway as our caseworker told them it was us.  They were supportive and sad for us, but enjoyed seeing pictures of X, and hearing what an awesome little boy he's become.  We said goodbye to A and left.

I don't know where the breakdown was.  The entire time D was in the hospital, even though she was hit by a truck of emotions she wasn't prepared for, she didn't waver from her adoption plan.  I think the caseworkers took that as a good sign that she was grieving, but moving through it and they seemed to think that as she had space she would feel more comfortable with the decision.  Obviously, the opposite occurred.  Not to mention that we feel like we did everything we could to be respectful of her space and time with A.  The other part that is horrible for us, is that we were first-hand witnesses to the chaos that is her life.  It's one of those situations, where I sat in disbelief at what I was hearing.  Because of that, it's hard to think that this is what's best for A.  I hope that something happened and people who had not stepped up previously when she had her daughter are now going to help her out.  Since she pursued the path of adoption, she has also opened herself up to scrutiny by the state, and she does have a few hoops to jump through before the agency (or state?) will let her take A home. 

Over the last few days, I've had so many emotions, not the least of which is anger.  She hurt us and our family.  She dragged us into the chaos of her life (ok, the edge, but we still saw it) and sent us on a rollercoaster ride over three weeks in which we rearranged our lives because she chose us to be parents to her child.  I know that mothers usually have to make the decision all over again after the baby is born, and I was well aware of that while we were in the hospital.  The problem I guess I have is that given she had a crisis in the hospital, she could have said she wasn't sure, in which case, we wouldn't have taken him home.  It would have sucked, but he would have been in cradle care, and we would have some distance while she decided what she wanted to do.  By the time we had the placement ceremony, she seemed certain of her decision.

So, what did I do with this certainty?

Told every person I know, sent an announcement to work, posted an announcement on f-b.  After this experience, I will never do that before termination papers have been filed with the court.  They tell us not to because of this very reason, but when it appears that the placement itself has gone positively, and the baby is in our home, it feels like a done deal.  The day after the pediatrician visit, I had to call the office to tell them not to file with insurance and I had to pay for his visit.  Talk about confusion over the phone.  Me, on the one end, trying not to break down sobbing, and them on the other end saying, but you were just here!  Not fun.

I sent an e-mail to work telling them the placement fell through and I go back to work on Monday.  Currently, we are doing ok.  I didn't get off the couch for 2 days (partly head cold, mostly depression and grief), and X had some clingy issues with day care drop off for a couple days.  At this point though, we are in lessons-learned territory.  I may not give work as much notice next time, keeping all the information to myself until we are reasonably sure that the placement will be successful.  I definitely will not tell our friends and f-b until the termination papers have been filed with the court (in CO it's minimum wait of 4 days after birth to file, and our agency doesn't ask parents to sign those papers in the hospital).  It'll be hard, because we will be excited, but the un-telling has been horrible.  People don't understand adoption, and they look for someone to blame (so far it's either been the agency, or it's been D, never us for jumping the gun).  They don't understand that the agency will help D make any decision, even the one to parent after placement.  They are in the business of adoption, but they don't just drop parents when it goes the other way, or force them to sign termination papers.  The agency doesn't make the decision to remove a baby from a parent just because the parent had an adoption plan.  The biggest thing that I've found, is that people don't realize that we took him home knowing that it could fall through.  We just thought that it wouldn't.

Although I could have loved A with every bone in my body, he wasn't here long enough to attach that tightly.   My wish for him, is that D will get it together for his and his sister's sake.  I wish for him that he is educated, and becomes a productive member of society.  I wish that some little piece of him remembers that we were briefly his caregivers, we loved him, and we'll always remember him.

It Was Fleeting....