July 30, 2009—Philadelphia
Jake was in the pool, because that is where he’d spent the better part of the week.
I was sitting out and taking a break while Kipp took a turn trying to teach The Boy to put his face in the water.
My phone rang, which of course brought some judgmental stares from the other pool goers since there is a strict “no cell phone” policy.
But as I reached into my bag to silence it, I noticed the number calling and knew I had to answer.
It was Texas.
Our book had gone out the week before to birthparents who were very early in the process and to be honest with you I thought it was too early and that they would just keep looking at books because they had the time.
So I hadn’t really given it much thought.
“They’ve picked three families and you are one of them.” Said my social worker.
“What does that mean?” I asked
“The birthmother would like to talk to all three and then make her decision.”
Ughhhhhh I thought to myself.
It was my experience that these were the birthmothers who weren’t 100% secure in their decision to place their babies.
These were the birthmothers who kept looking at books and having phone calls, while they looked for something to push them in one direction or another.
I had been through this one too many times this past year but I guess that’s just part of the deal, so I said: “Okay. When is the call?”
“She’d like to talk to you tonight at 8:00, your time.”
Crap.
We were having dinner with some of our best friends (one of Jake’s Godmothers) who we never see, and tonight was the only night they could do it. So I did the unthinkable. “I am really sorry but that won’t work.”
“Really?” My social worker said with a surprise.
“Yes, really. Can we make it another night?” I knew if Kipp was in earshot, he would think I was nuts. He would tell me to cancel dinner. But all I could think of was how I had put so much of my life on hold the past two years and how we had cancelled so many things for a “wild goose chase” and quite frankly, I was done.
If this situation was meant to be, then it would work out—but in the meantime I wanted to see our friends. I had been looking forward to it all week.
It didn’t cross my mind for a minute that this was foolish.
If this birthmother really wanted to talk to us, then what’s one or two more days.
“Okay let me check with her social worker but what about Saturday night at 8:00 your time?”
“Perfect. We can do that.” I replied.
Saturday was two days away.
Love Much,
xob
Our social worker called us on a Friday night asking if we would be interested in our baby girl, 12 months old, she was foster to adopt, and the TPR case was pending and scheduled within 3 weeks of her call, so it really was a direct placement through the foster care system. The SW, gave me the foster mom’s phone number, to give her a call, and I was so nervous that I waited to call her until Monday. At that point we had been waiting for an adoptive placement for 30 months, we had had 1 foster placement, for 6 months, that ripped my heart out when he went home, he had been gone less then 2 months, when they called about my Mea. I had told my husband that I wasn’t cut out for foster care, as I couldn’t say goodbye, and I didn’t know if I wanted to do any of it anymore.
I was so afraid that we’d get another child and then they would be ripped from my arms, with no further contact, just like D was.
The talk with Mea’s foster mom sealed the deal. She was so wonderful, and we have grown into great friends. She was my baby girls angel for the first 13 months of her life, and for that I can never thank her enough.
So what happened?
If I wanted to adopt and a birth mother wanted to talk to me, I would make myself available. Where is the respect?