My husband and I decided we were going to adopt, thanks to my pcos. Pcos doesn’t mean I can’t have babies. It just means I need really good insurance or a lot of money to try. So a year ago we decided we were going to go through the county for adoptions. We did our Saturday PRIDE classes and completed a full home study. Our house was licensed four months after completing pride. We were ready.
During the waiting process a couple of babies were mentioned to us because the social worker wasn’t sure if we would be interested, but each one of them I never turned down. However, each child that is up for concurrent planning has to go through three sets of supervisors before they pick a family. We were not picked on those occasions. I started to feel discouraged and found myself lying in bed at night wondering why. Why they have picked us and if we would ever find a match for our family.
The whole adoption process through the county is not easy. There are high-risk babies and low risk babies. Either way you look at it, they seem to be high risk and because the judge is so pro-family, he keeps giving the parents time to get right. All the while, that child is having to connect and disconnect with so many different foster parents.
I will remember this day for the rest of my life. My social worker called me around 6:30 p.m. but I didn’t hear it ring. So around 10:30, my husband and I got ready for bed. I plugged my phone into its charger and realized I had a voicemail. When I listened to the message I felt warm all over but I also felt anxiety and worry. She called to tell me that a little four and a half month old baby had been selected from her supervisors for our family. Of course, it was too late to call her back but she did say she sent me an email with his picture and wanted me to look it over and read his story and let her know if we would be interested in meeting him. That was a dumb question; I was over ecstatic! I woke my husband up and told him and then proceeded to call all of my loved ones.
We went to meet Isaiah and his foster parents. He was beautiful. I fell in love with him right away. We set up three more transition visits with him. Every time I left him, I couldn’t wait to see him again. I was told he was a very low risk baby and that was why they wanted to get him into a loving, concurrent family. Concurrent means the baby is looking at staying forever and gets placed until the court process is finalized so he can stay with the adopting family. It is supposed to be easier for the child.
Isaiah moved in with us on April 16, 2010. My family did everything for us. They painted his room, bought clothes, diapers, medicine, you name it. It was the most giving thing they could have done. Everything felt like it was working out perfectly. We finally received our gift from God and I felt complete and happy.
On May 3rd, I received a call from my social worker. She said she needed to come out to do an evaluation. I felt something weird in her voice that didn’t seem right. I asked her if everything was ok and she said yes. My social worker and Isaiah’s social worker came out to the house the next day. I showed them Isaiah’s room and told them everything he was doing and trying to do. They sat across from me and told me they had bad news. I could feel my heart pounding fast and I started to feel sad. They told me an out of state relative had come forward out of the blue. They said she sounds appropriate and wants to have Isaiah as soon as possible.
That day I felt many things but most of all, disappointed and frustrated. They asked me if I would be able to continue taking care of Isaiah until all her paperwork and finger prints were taken care of. What were they expecting me to say, “NO TAKE HIM RIGHT NOW.” That night my husband and I cried together and the next couple of nights we did the same. We just couldn’t understand why this was happening. Why that aunt didn’t come forward a long time ago. I can’t understand why it’s happening but it has been rough loving and caring for him everyday just knowing that heartbreak is around the corner.
Today he turned seven months. He is already calling me Mama. He has a smile that makes you want to melt. He just started to crawl. I have met the out of state relatives two times now. They seem like wonderful people. They have a daughter. I have nothing against them. I just feel bad for Isaiah, my family, and me. Usually separation anxiety starts at seven to eight months and I just hope that they move him soon because I don’t want this to hurt him or affect him.
My life has changed. I get up everyday and take care of him and love him and put all my energy into him and soon he will leave and I will have to find a way to pull myself together. The social workers have told me over and over again that my husband and I will be first on the list for the next safe surrender baby because those seem to be the most clear cut adoptions. It makes me feel a bit better, but I will always remember Isaiah as being my first son. I just pray for strength and wisdom. There has to be a reason for it all, there just has to be. God must have a plan that I am just going to have to trust.
By Nicki for Barefoot & Pregnant