Reality Check

On Thursday of that next week, I was scheduled to take Justin to Magna for a visit with his birth mother. That morning I packed up Justin and his diaper bag and headed out. When we arrived at the DCFS office, I gave them instructions on how Justin liked to be held, and the best way to feed him. And then I had to leave.

It was one thing to learn in a class about the emotional aspect of being a foster parent, but it does not even come close to the actual thing. I wondered just what exactly we had gotten ourselves into. What sort of crazy people volunteer their hearts and time to care for and become attached to an infant that isn't their's and most likely never will be? Oh, us.

I left the DCFS office with a sense of extreme anxiety. Suddenly the magazines I had brought to leisurely read had simply become words on a page that I really didn't care about. I sat in a McDonald's parking lot drinking a coke and ticking by the minutes.

I was finally able to go back to DCFS office and pick up Justin. I was able to meet with the caseworker and with Justin's birthmother for about an hour. His birthmother expressed her fear that we would try and "take away her baby, and adopt him." I assured her that this was not our purpose. Our purpose was to take good care of him, and provide him with the love of a family while she made the changes that she needed to. I told her we were not here to take away the baby, but to give him a good life until she was able to provide it for him. I meant every word, but I did still wish he was ours forever, and not just a little while. Justin's birthmother expressed her gratitude, and then left.

I left the office and took Justin back to our house with a somewhat heavier heart than I had arrived with.