terminal – the original post

Hey – I found (part of) the original post.  Thank you WordPress.  Here it is for your viewing enjoyment.

 

My husband shared with me this weekend that he feels as though we are living with children who have a terminal illness.  At first I thought he was a bit dramatic but in thinking about it further — he’s right.

I have nightmares.  Almost nightly.

I get teary as I change a diaper, give a hug or dress a child at least once a week.

I am haunted by the fact that almost everything I do for these kids might in fact be the last time I do that thing for these kids.

I am haunted by the fact that they may be gone someday.  And I know that if they leave they will take a part of me with them.

We celebrated our anniversary on the 4th.  One year ago to the day we got a call and took in two very frightened little kids.

They were not the kids we have today.  They were wounded, frightened little kids with huge gaping holes you could see if you looked close enough.

We’ve patched the holes.  We’ve healed the wounds.  We’ve created these two happy, smiling toddlers that are a joy to have around (even when they’re not a joy to have around, being toddlers and all).

And we’ve waited patiently for a year to find out if we get to keep them.

Our last court date was a train wreck.

A painful, painful train wreck.

Everyone on the case left there just a bit shell shocked.

We got a new judge.  Our new judge used to be an attorney who defended birth parents.  He was late for lunch and clearly annoyed that we were wasting his time.

It was ugly.

And something horrible happened.

Nothing.

He added an hour to visitations and told us all he’d see us in 3 more months.

3 more months.

I took in a 9 month old baby and when/if she leaves me she will most likely be 2.

She’s mine now.  Whether the courts see it or not, she has grown up with me as her mom.

She took her first steps to me.  She calls me mama.  I taught her how to use a spoon and drink from a cup instead of a bottle.  I get up in the night when she cries.

12 months is supposed to be the turning point in a case in Pennsylvania.  A decision is supposed to come with 12 months.

But instead, we got three more months.

And the birth parents get three more months to get their act together.  To show that they deserve their kids back.

So we continue to live as though any moment life will kick us in the gut.

It’s tough. tough. tough.

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Terminal

I wrote a long post yesterday and the internet ate it.

So while it is full of my words…I am feeling a little empty.

 

An update:

We still don’t know anything about the foster care situation.

My eldest daughter is being evaluated this week for ADD.

My eldest son took up wrestling – the last week of the season – and it was awesome.

 

Living with the babes is tough.  My husband told me this weekend that he feels like we have two kids with a terminal disease.

That was the topic of my very long post yesterday.

Today you get this:

Living in our foster-to-adopt situation is a lot like living with two children with a terminal disease.  (taking into account that I can only imagine what that feels like)

But I do know this.  It sucks big.

Even though you HAVE to enjoy everyday as though it may be the last.

Thinking that way makes it tough to enjoy the day.

It’s been a year.  Our anniversary was Feb 4th.  I thought this ride would be over by now.

We won’t know anything for certain for another nine months, at least.

Here’s praying for a cure.