Get Stuffed

I had forgotten. 

The enormity of the stuff that babies need.

And babies need.

Constantly.

My house has gotten  Smaller.  smaller. smallest.

It’s cramped in here.

And the gear.  All the stuff.

Well, amazingly enough, it’s not all…well necessary.

The bottle warmer I HAD TO HAVE for my first child.  eh, not so much.

So we are going minimalist.  And it’s very liberating.

And, the babes, they are doing SO WELL!

Despite the very ugly flu plague that threatened to eat my family last week.

Ugly.

cough, snot, cough, repeat.

We are all doing well.

Thankyouverymuch.

So to say I have been busy is an understatement.  Of sorts.

Let’s back up a little.

We signed up to be foster parents (“resource parents”) for  fost-to-adopt program last year around this time.  We spent the summer collecting paperwork and taking Saturday classes.  We talked and talked and talked some more about what we wanted, why we wanted this and what we were prepared to accept if we didn’t get exactly what we wanted.

Here is our list:

Child has to have a very good chance of being placed up for adoption

One child between the age of 2-4.  No infants!

A boy or a girl would be fine

race doesn’t matter

relatively unscathed (no MAJOR psychological issues)

No MAJOR medical issues

The End.

So we threw the dice.  Knowing that it may be months before a child comes up in our age group.

Skip ahead two months.

Thursday before last I got a call from the emergency placement officer on duty with the agency we are working with.  They have two children aged 7 months and one year, a boy and a girl, and they need some place to sleep tonight.

uh.

And in my head I screamed NO! Way!

But what I said was – “tell me about the mom”.  Because that is our major concern.  We want to adopt.  Ultimately.

And the woman on the phone told me the little she knew.  Drugs, mental issues, homeless.

Uh?

So I told her that my husband wasn’t home yet but would be in 10 minutes and I would call her right back.

And as I screamed no! no!no!no! in my head I waited for my husband to come home and worried that by not saying yes right away to her the woman would call another family and we wouldn’t get the chance to have these two.  (even as I screamed no and FOUR KIDS?!?!?!?! in my head)

And then my husband came home.  And we talked in code around our two kids so they wouldn’t know what was going on.  My husband asked what we had for baby stuff, what we knew about the health and what would do with the kids the next day since we both work and just by coincidence, I had taken the day off as a personal day.

And then I looked at the clock and saw that more than 20 minutes had passed and I called her back.

And my husband asked questions through me as I spoke on the phone.  And we found out what we could.  And after she answered the questions she could (and all the while I am saying no in my head) I looked at my husband, knowing that he would feel the same way I did, and… he said ~

Yes.

And just like that.   I said yes too.

So we built the crib.  I ran to Target for diapers, formula and all those other things I thought I was done with.  We made the toddler bed that a friend had dropped off weeks before and got ready to accept too little kids into our lives.

And at 10:30 that night they arrived.  Two kids, one baby bottle, a jug of spoiled milk, the clothes they had on (and some that the office had donated) and that was it.  The case worker checked the temp of the water.  Made sure that they had beds to sleep in, and left.

Leaving behind two little kids in our care.

And I spent Friday home alone with two kids who didn’t know me.  And I realized some very important things that day.

One.  I am not alone.

Friends, neighbors and co-workers stopped by, offered help, meals, clothes and baby gear.

By Friday night it looked like a baby store had exploded in my house.

 

Two.  Having a 7 month old and a 21 month old is almost like having twins.

I never wanted twins, the idea of all that need scared me silly.

Twins are hard.

 

Three.  This is the person I want to be.

The person who takes a little child (or two) who has it rough and makes it better.

 

And Friday was tough.  Saturday was better.  And by Sunday when my husband was finally home for the day, we were working on a rhythm.

We’re still working on it.  But we’ll get there.

I am sure  I will be blogging more now.

I have a lot I want to remember about this.

I have lots of questions that plague me and I don’t want to forget an instant of this.

I know they may not stay.  And I accept that.

I know they may stay.  And I accept that.

I know it will be a long while before we know the final answer.  That is harder to accept, but accept it I do.

But the thing I have the most trouble with is this:

They are young.  And even if they left tomorrow they would have changed me forever, and I wouldn’t even be a memory.

That’s tough.