When I met you

Some of my favorite, most therapeutic writing is writing about the kids themselves.  I know part of it is because I have to keep so much confidentiality that I feel like I'm bursting to talk about them.  Part of it is that I feel lonely in my deep love for them that doesn't go away, when it seems to me that they can be invisible to some of my family and friends.  Some of it is just because it's amazing to watch them grow.

So, something made me think of the moment I met each little one, and I was itching to write them out, stories I may never get to tell the children myself.

Pterodactyl.  You were in your bassinet, being checked by a nurse, and howling mad.  I was trying to talk to your mother, who had asked to meet me, but now was crying and had nothing to say.  I left the room and you were still crying.  Later, you were wheeled into the conference room where I waited with the social worker, sleeping in your bassinet.  I held you and we took pictures, though it was such a strange moment to take pictures.  You had straight dark hair on your little forehead and looked so brand new.

Beetle.  You were sleeping in your Mamaroo in your room in the NICU, a pacifier propped against your mouth.  You weren't officially in our care yet, but I was allowed to visit.  I remember being shocked at how tiny you looked, but actually you were a pretty average weight, just a tiny-looking guy.  I think part of it was your huge eyes, still big and round in pictures I've seen of you as a toddler.   I gave you a bottle and relearned bottle feeding to help you, trying to get as much in as I could.  You definitely did not like having your diaper changed.  The nurses helped me with your care and I said goodnight to you, leaving you in your room to see you another day.

Caterpillar.  You were asleep in your infant car seat, little head of curls resting against the back.  I remember my biggest concerns were some medical issues and getting information that was not being given to us, so my impression of you was fragility.  This didn't last for long, as you were quite a content baby once you settled in a few days.  But that first night, you woke up soon after CPS left and ate, but you looked tired and a little lost.  It had been a long day.

Cricket.  I picked you up, and when the door was answered, the person answering said, "this is her."  You'd run up to the door, too, to greet me.  You were busy, busy, busy while we got paperwork together.  We unplugged a phone so you could pretend to call people.  You had a toothbrush that played music, and you wanted to show me how you brushed your teeth right then, even though I didn't really know where to get a glass of water to help you.  I didn't really know what to do and hadn't prepared myself for filling this time, but I followed your lead and you ran your little show for me.  You were a driven little girl, right from the start.  You fell asleep about two minutes after we drove away, exhausted from the night before, and I realized later a lot of the busy busy busy mode was really overtiredness.

Crocodile.  You were terrified.  I think about it and it still breaks my heart.  You literally backed into a corner by the door, and then tried to leave with the social worker when she tried to leave.  Your big brown eyes stared at us, chin lowered.  We brought out some goldfish and fruit snacks, started up Daniel Tiger.  You shook your little head no.  We gently kept trying and finally you sat with me on the couch, kind of watching the show.  Then you took the snack and relaxed a tiny bit, and the worker left.  You wore a shirt with a saying on it that you still wear as much as possible, and though I can't stand the saying on it, I can't help but let you wear it.  You slept only five hours that night, just quietly awake for long periods.  With these first moments, I thought you would have a very hard time adjusting to our home, but you actually settled in quite well within a few days.

Every time, it was the start of a remaking of our family.

Between placement call and arrival

Crocodile is a busy boy.  He is sleeping better, but the days are tiring.  I'm trying to keep them simple, but they're still just full of "We don't climb on that" "Wait, where did you go?" "This is your plate.  This Rhinoceros's plate."  These early days are full of teaching how we do things here, and of course I have no idea what is brand new and what is known but pushing boundaries.  And really, he is such a sweetie, just FULL of energy and he is EVERYWHERE.

It feels like such a long time such his placement call already, a crazy fast-paced night.

You get a call for a child, you're chosen for placement, you get the child.  Seems straightforward, right? Yet every placement has been quite different for us.

Pterodactyl: We get the call, but it's not certain she'll need a foster family, as there is a possible relative placement.  We say yes if we're needed.  She's a newborn and discharge is expected the next day.  Next morning, we get the call that yes, we are needed as a foster family.  I meet her at the hospital and she's discharged into our care.

Beetle: We get the call.  We're chosen for placement.  But he's a newborn in the NICU and still has several days before discharge.  We meet him at the hospital and eventually he's discharged into our care.

Caterpillar: We get the call at 3:30 pm.  We say yes, and soon get a call back that we're chosen for placement and CPS will call us when he's on the way.  But then we hear nothing.  Our agency closes.  We go to bed.  11:00 pm, we get a call that they're on their way.  He arrives asleep in his car seat.  We have some medical questions and the two tired CPS workers have to hang around awhile, calling around to mom, to the hospital.  Eventually they leave sometime after midnight and call us back when they hear from the hospital.

Cricket: I get the call late morning I think, I don't remember exactly.  We say yes, and soon get a call back that we're chosen for placement.  She was removed the night before and is at a shelter.  I still don't know why they didn't call us when she was removed; I asked recently and got no answer.  I had a work meeting and asked if I could pick her up afterward since she was at the shelter, and that was fine.  I met an agency worker there, a few things were signed, and we were on our way.

Crocodile:  B gets the call around 6:40, and I find out around 7:15 when I get home.  After Caterpillar's placement took so long, I start "nesting" and cleaning up a bit, but I'm thinking we'll probably go to bed still waiting.  Then by 8:30 a CPS worker calls to say she is in our driveway and wasn't sure if we were home.  I'm totally caught off-guard by this, thinking we'd have a few minutes to prepare that yes, Crocodile was on his way.  Crocodile was a bit scared and quite reluctant about coming to us.  It just crushes you to see a small little boy backing away from you, knowing the hurt he's going through.  We slowly got him settled with a show and a snack after a few attempts.  Maybe the CPS worker didn't want to drag things out so that he'd settle better with us, or maybe she was tired and just wanted to be done for the day, but she definitely didn't give us a chance to ask questions.  I'd hoped to give her our Google Voice number to pass on to his mom, but by the time I thought of it, she was out the door.

So, it was a whirlwind.  And then, as usual, a weird lag time.  After 3 days, we had a home visit with his caseworker, still with little information.  No contact with mom, no visit schedule yet.  Just us, adjusting at home, having to learn about this kiddo as we go.

Introducing Crocodile

I sat at Dinosaur's baseball practice, telling my friend that we'd surely get a placement call the next day, because I had plans to babysit my baby nephew all day.

I came home to B sitting expectantly by the door with some news to share.

So, now we have a 2-year-old boy in our family, who I will call Crocodile.  Thankfully not for biting (though, hey, if that's going to show up I'm not worried), but for his first toddlerspeak conversations with me centered on his Crocs.  "I want them off.  I want them on.  I want them off."  He wore them to bed.  I just checked on him while writing this post as he's not asleep yet, and he was walking around his room with them in his hands.

He's a strong and coordinated little guy, but with these wonderful tiny chubby fingers.  He has some heart-melting big grins.  He gets quiet around other kids, but when it's just me or sometimes just Dinosaur or Rhinoceros, he starts a long toddler monologue.

So far he has not been wailing about bedtime, but he has not been sleeping either.  Very restless, just can't settle.  He was pretty scared and reluctant when he came through our door.  Poor guy.

Dinosaur and Rhinoceros are slowly adjusting to him.  Rhinoceros seems a bit confused, as he's not the partner for conversation and play that Cricket was, but he's also not a baby.  They've got some big brother roles to figure out still, but no major issues yet either.

I am tired.  I am cheered by friends' support and surprise fresh-picked strawberries.  I am charmed by this little one, my heart warm with affection for him.  I am hurting for this little one and his family.  I have no idea about the future.  I am a foster parent in the first week.

Loud

And Cricket's back here for now.  It went about as I expected:


Phase 1: Hyperdrive, hypersilly with the other kids, running around in circles, talking a mile a minute, volume level 11.  Doesn't want me to touch her.
Phase 2: Shutdown.  Lying down on the couch, talking about sleeping.
Phase 3: Clinginess and wanting to be treated like a baby, interspersed with some remaining spurts of energy.  Talks about being sad, doesn't want to see the other kids, doesn't want me to leave her sight.
Phase 4: Screaming and crying.


Phase 4 is still going.


At the same time, as soon as she started saying all sorts of crazy stuff as she stepped in the door, and as soon as she said "Mommy will you pick me up" and I held her, it all washed over me like a wave.  My deep love for this little girl who is hurting, who was hurting, who has been hurting.

My plans, God's plans

The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps. Proverbs 16:9

It's no big surprise.  Plan things out for your family, and God will show you the true plan.

We were certain that by limiting our age range to six months younger than our youngest biological child, we were preserving the birth order.  No "virtual twins" for us.  Not that virtual twins are a bad choice for others, but they were not in our plan.

Well, our new gal Cricket is one year younger than Rhinoceros, but they are virtual twins.

I would bet money that no stranger could pick out that he is one year older.  They are the same size, and she is faster and stronger.  She is a big sister and acts accordingly.  She is also more of a "do it myself" personality than he is, so that makes her seem older as well.

When Rhinoceros met her, I picked him up from a friend's house and put him in the car.  She was asleep in the car seat, and he talked on and on about the baby.  I tried to explain to him that she is not a baby, but I believe that she's in the same convertible car seat as our foster babies established that she was a baby.

Today, when Cricket wants to tell Rhinoceros what's up, she's been calling him Baby.  "Baby, that's mine!"

So, we have two toddlers, both convinced that they are not the baby in the household.  So much for my birth order plans.  God, weren't You supposed to send us a meek wide-eyed little toddler?  One that Rhinoceros could be a helper and leader with?

But I trust that He has prepared us in ways we don't know.  And I trust she is with us for a reason.

Well, that was quick.

Just three days into being on the list for placements, we got a call for a 2-year-old girl.  She's now sleeping upstairs.

I went straight from a work meeting to pick her up from a shelter.  I'm not sure why we didn't get a call last night to prevent her from going to the shelter.  She was happy and doing her thing at the shelter, then fell asleep on the ride home, then when I woke her up, she was not so happy.  Not sobbing, but it took her awhile to smile again, and explore and check out the toys.  Somewhere in there were the words that stopped me cold.

"Go buh-bye?"

I know, honey.  I know you want to go buh-bye.  I know you're so lost and confused.  I know you miss your mama and your siblings.

I'm sure for a toddler placement, the first evening went quite well.  She ate.  She didn't want to go to bed, but let me rock and cuddle her, and she was asleep after an hour with minimal crying.

But it's still so, so sad.  You can see it in her face, hear it in her voice, in a way that you couldn't with our infant placements.

Plus, we're buckling up for our family adjusting to a walking, talking foster child.  She is a year younger than Rhinoceros, but they're the same size.  She also seems much more independent than my kids at her age.  It'll shake us up quite a bit, I think.

I'm glad we can be here for her.  But I am worn out and need some sleep before tomorrow's adventures begin.

Meeting the birth mom by phone

Caterpillar's birth mom gave her phone number to the caseworker to give to me.  After thinking about it for a little while, I wanted to extend some contact over phone.  First, she made the first move, and second, I felt for her.  I always feel pangs of sympathy imagining mothers lying awake at night, not knowing anything about the strangers their babies are with, not able to tell them anything.  Wondering if they know that gas drops help him.  Wondering if they will figure out that she likes her back rubbed to get to sleep.  And this case in particular has had a bumpy start in ways that are not her fault.

There were two obstacles to this phone call.  The first is that I get very anxious about phone calls.  Even if I'm just calling the dentist's office, I get a little sweaty and flustered.  When I've had to make calls in my second language, Spanish, I have to talk myself into calling, literally pep-talking myself out loud sometimes.  I vastly prefer talking in person or by e-mail.  Sometimes I avoid phone calls completely.

The second obstacle is privacy.  Many birth parents would not abuse having information on foster parents, but some would.  With landlines, there is the insecurity of knowing that your address is out there.  I know it differs by areas, but here the address of the foster parents' home is kept confidential.  Then with any kind of phone, you can invite more calls than you bargained for.  Birth parents may have addictions or mental illness (or just desperation from missing their children) that inspire 2 am calls or constant texts, and most other foster parents have advised me against giving out a number.

Then I saw Google Voice suggested and found it to be a great solution.  I'll try to explain it because I didn't get it at first.  You can create a new number.  For outgoing calls, you can type the number on the website and it calls any phone you have set up to be connected to your Google Voice number.  When you answer your phone, it connects to the number you entered on the website.  The person receiving the call sees only the Google Voice number, not your landline or cell number.  Then for incoming calls, any phone you have connected to your Google Voice number rings.  Here's a great feature: there is an option for calls during a certain time to go straight to voicemail.  I set that up from 9 pm to 8 am, and ta-da, no after-hours calls.

So, with the privacy obstacle overcome, I said a few prayers to get past my phone fear, and called Caterpillar's mom.  It was a really positive conversation, and I'm so glad I called her.  I don't know at all where our relationship will go or how this case will go, but I am glad that it started off better than my rushed awkward conversation as I drop off her child for a visit.  I introduced myself as the foster mom taking care of her son, and tried to learn as much as I could of how she has been taking care of him: products, soothing tips, etc.  She was calm and thorough.  Talking at visits and keeping a two-way journal have been mostly positive, but after today, I really want to attempt phone contact with future birth parents.  I want to give my Google Voice number to the worker dropping off the child, because this conversation would have been even better if had happened sooner.

What communication methods have you had with birth parents?  Your good stories, your bad stories?

Lag time

Two out of three placements we've had something I did not expect at all after a new placement arrived: eerie calm.

Okay, it's not entirely calm.  Babies need fed, changed, comforted constantly.  Older kids get less attention.  It gets noisy.  But the calm part is the contact with our agency.  Child arrives with basic information, and soon we're on our own.  It doesn't feel weird at first, but then hours pass by, and it just feels odd that we have someone else's baby without anyone checking in with us.  Family visits aren't set up yet, and we haven't met the birth parents.  We usually don't know who our agency caseworker is (I remembered to ask this time, no luck).

If we had an emergency, I know what number to call, but it's not that.  It's just this weird lag where we feel like we aren't in full swing with foster care again... and yet there's a baby in our house.  There are lots of non-urgent questions.  What solid food has he tried?  How has he been falling asleep?  Is there a special way to care for his hair and skin?  Has he been evaluated for developmental milestones?  I'll ask these things eventually, but it will feel a little late.  And I won't meet birth parents until after I hear answers secondhand and they've been separated from their child for days.  A friend was talking about how to make faster contact with birth parents to learn more about the child's daily life right away.  Could we ask the CPS worker to call a birth parent and answer a few basic questions, all in goodwill of just wanting to help ease the transition for the child?  Or is right after removal never the right time for a foster parent to talk to a birth parent?  I did talk to Pterodactyl's mom in the hospital, so technically that was right at removal.  But she asked to meet me, not vice versa.  And even then, we really couldn't manage to say anything to each other.

So, during this lag time, I'm writing daily journal entries for birth parents.  We shopped for the basics, knowing that clothing may or may not be coming.  I'm keeping my week open, knowing it could fill up at any minute.  And Caterpillar keeps giving me this look that I just know means, "Where is my mom?"
 

Hello, Caterpillar

4-month-old baby boy Caterpillar* joined our home this week.  He's our first placement that's had a home before ours besides the hospital.  Also my first real interaction with Child Protective Services, as so far I'd only dealt with my private agency and hospital social workers.

He's big!  Yet he fits into 6-month clothes, so maybe he just seems big because we had Beetle most recently, who was both a little younger and on the skinny side?  He's had some sad spells, but overall we're shocked at how you can actually lay him down and he stays. asleep.  Even if he doesn't sleep long, it's still amazing compared to Beetle.  I guess I'm a comparative parent.  Sorry, kids!

Dinosaur and Rhinoceros are thrilled, though Rhinoceros can't say his name.  He did start pulling his baby doll on a wagon around the house and putting it down for a nap in the closet.  Dinosaur has been asking more questions about why babies stay with us than he has before, but I think it's going well.

I hold Caterpillar close as he experiences the loss of his home, his mom.  I was rocking him and started singing, thinking it would put him to sleep.  He perked right up and started cooing back!  Mom must be a singer.  So I've been singing all day, especially He Knows My Name, which I'd never connected to my foster babies before but now it'll always remind me of them.
 
I have a Maker
He formed my heart
Before even time began
my life was in his hands

He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
and hears me when I call

I have a father
He calls me his own
He'll never leave me
No matter where I go

He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
and hears me when I call

*I have a knack for choosing nicknames that are hard for me to spell, and I'm a pretty good speller.  I always want to type Rhinocerous and Pteradactyl, now Catepillar.  But I like it too much to change it.

Fostering in the NICU

We're in limbo, as Beetle (nickname I decided for our new placement, I blame this song that my kids love) is still in the NICU, and thus we're not officially his foster parents.  I don't have any paperwork on him, and things like visits haven't started.  Yet, I introduce myself as a foster parent at the children's hospital desk, and a board in his room announces my name and B's as foster parents.

The first two nights, I came after work and got to feed and cuddle him, talking to the nurses now and then.  I'm always out of sorts and shy in a new place, so I had to figure out when I need to be asked to be buzzed in through the doors, and even though they told me I can just go in and out of his room, I should probably ask for his nurse when I first come in so she doesn't wonder who this person is in his room by herself.  Add to that the delicate balance of care in the NICU.  At home, when I sense a baby has a dirty diaper, I change it.  In the NICU, I mention it to the nurse, and she suggests waiting a short awhile because he has some routine care coming up.  In any situation, I would feel awkward and tentative about picking up a newborn I didn't give birth to.  In this case, there's all sorts of wires connected to him.  Yes, I made the alarms go off because somehow I got something disconnected.

I knew I couldn't come by tonight, so I visited Beetle this morning.  It was good to go during the day, because I got to talk to his occupational therapist and the hospital social worker.  Both think he's doing quite well considering that he's going through withdrawal; he's gaining well and isn't inconsolable.  He definitely has many of the symptoms that I learned about, and I learned a lot from the nurses and the OT on how to help make things a little easier for him.  Withdrawal isn't close to done, though, as he'll still go home on medication and continue to wean off of it.

At first I was worried that no one had been visiting him, and my hours with him were the only extra cuddles he was getting, but I learned his mom and grandma have been visiting, just not when I've been there.  We'll see if I bump into them before discharge.  A date for discharge hasn't been set yet, but everyone there seems to think it shouldn't be too long.

In the meantime, I'm torn between enjoying moments of quiet and rushing around to get things done.  I did buy the Mamaroo, newborn clothes, diapers, and a few other necessities.  We still need to move the crib from the nursery to our bedroom, though.  And I want to really clean the house and finish some projects in the nursery because I know I won't have the time for awhile.  At the same time, I want to enjoy these last few calm days and take Rhinoceros on our usual outings, appreciating the ease of getting around with fewer children.

Dinosaur is excited about Beetle's arrival and asked questions about what he looked like.  This morning he said that Beetle could join them in the "monkeys jumping on the bed" game they were playing.  Um, kiddo, I think you've already forgotten what a newborn baby is.

Babies, babies, babies

Those were my first words to B when we talked on the phone about... a new placement.

B and I had just finished discussing that we would say a conditional yes to to the twins, that if they were born when we happened to be available for placement, or if it meant staying empty for a month or less, then we would take them.  Then the phone rang about another baby.

He's not here yet.  He's a baby boy still in the NICU, possible discharge this weekend.  We just took a drug-exposed infant training, and good thing.  Or not a coincidence at all... as I think the agency saw this placement coming and tried to get a few more of us ready to say yes!

Some new factors compared to our last placement will be NAS (Neo-natal Abstinence Syndrome) and a father that has visits to schedule as well.  Some familiar factors will be picking up a newborn (he's a bit premature, so he'll seem like a newborn) from the hospital and a relative who hopes to be placed with the baby once some barriers are out of the way.  The latter didn't go as expected last time, so we'll see what happens.

I'm very tempted to get this Mamaroo swing that I hear is excellent for infants in withdrawal, but I always have trouble plunking down money for anything but the most basic baby equipment.  There's one on Craigslist for a little cheaper.  Hrmmm.

I'm going to try to get like 9 hours of sleep every night until his discharge.  I am looking forward to the Olympics lining up with having a newborn.  Hours of stuff to watch when in a daze.

Our fostering year 2013 in a timeline

I've decided to recap the year of our fostering journey, a journey I didn't really know we'd be on a year ago.  Plus, I just know the process and fostering experience is so different for different people and locations that I thought it may be an interesting to share my year in foster care.

Early January 2013 - I bought five matching Christmas stockings in after-Christmas sales.  We had added to our stockings haphazardly and I wanted them to coordinate.  But what's the funny part about this?  We hadn't decided yet that we would have three kids.  This was still up for debate, though we decided for sure in the next couple of weeks.  I smiled as I put them up this year.  We're not a permanent family of five, but even in our in-between waiting phases, we're a family of five.

January 13 - B and I heard a sermon that strongly confirmed our feeling that we needed to do foster care out of obedience to God.  Read more here.

January 29 - We got our first response to an inquiry on foster parenting from the agency that we ended up getting licensed with.

February 14 - We had a one-on-one orientation session in our home with our agency.

March 8 - First half of training

March 14 - First home visit

April 4-11 - B and I took a fantastic 10th anniversary trip to the Dominican Republic.  It was an excellent combination of relaxation away from kids as well a bit of exploration and adventure.  And I'm so glad we made it happen before we got licensed.


April 20 - Second half of training

April 23 - Second home visit (I'm re-reading old e-mails to find these dates and I wrote to the licensing worker "I'm looking forward to the home visit tomorrow!"  I'm such a geek.)

May 8 - Licensed!  We were licensed for one child, 0-2.  It all felt so fast, with the few issues we encountered being very minor.

Late May - First placement call at 10:30 pm for a 2-year-old boy, and we are a nervous WRECK on the phone.  I asked his birth date and it turns out he was almost 3, which made him older than Rhinoceros.  We decided that was a dealbreaker.

Late May - Second placement call mid-morning for a newborn girl still at the hospital.  They are not 100% sure she is going into care as there is a relative that may be able to take her.  We say yes, and wait.

Late May - The next day, we get a call around 10 am that we need to be there to pick up the newborn girl by discharge at 11.  I meet her and her birth mom.  I bring home 3-day-old Pterodactyl.  Case prediction: she will move to her grandma soon.

Sometime in July - The move to her grandma is not happening.  We settle into this being a longer-term placement.

Late July - First time to court for adjudication.  I don't want to go into much detail here, but I thought I'd mention when it was just to give an idea of "a year in fostering."

Late September - The move to her grandma IS happening after all, but we're not sure when.

Late October - Second time to court, review.  Uneventful.

Late October - Family team meeting about Pterodactyl's move to her grandma.  The goal is set that the transition would be complete within a month.

Late November - The transition was slowed down by daycare issues.  We took Pterodactyl with us out-of-state for Thanksgiving.

Dec. 12 - I start making waves because the transition has no defined end still.  A deadline is set for her grandma to set up daycare.

Dec. 18 - Her grandma has not set up daycare.  Pterodactyl will stay with us indefinitely.

Dec. 19 - Her grandma HAS set up daycare.

Dec. 20 - Pterodactyl moves to her grandma at least for Christmas while we travel to Canada.

Dec. 26 - We get word that her move is official.

Whew.  Well, I couldn't have predicted any of that.  I wouldn't have guessed we would have a newborn.  I wouldn't have guessed we would spend more than half of the placement planning for an any-day-now goodbye.  But I don't write our story, or Pterodactyl's.  God is doing more than we can imagine.  For reasons I don't entirely understand, Pterodactyl needed our love and care in our home for 7 months, and now she needs to be with her grandma.

And 2014?  Who knows besides God.  We're taking another week and a half off at least before going on the call list.  Slowing down as a family of four has felt very, very nice.  But I've got a nursery with an empty crib, and five stockings ready for next Christmas.

What it was like to pick up a baby from the hospital

I'm continuing to catch up on our foster journey so far before blogging in the present.

We were licensed in early May and got our first call later that month.  We decided to say no to that placement, as it was for a boy several months older than Rhinoceros, and we had decided to maintain the family birth order.  It was hard, though, and I still think of this toddler who was exposed to meth and how he might be doing.

The day after the first call, we got our second call.  The first call was urgent: it's 10:30 pm and we want to place him tonight, though other agencies were seeking families as well.  This time it was in advance, and a bit uncertain.  A baby had been born that would be coming into foster care, but they were still trying to make a relative placement happen.  Later I learned that the case was only offered to our agency because the mom had had parental rights terminated on her two sons.  We had absolutely no reason to say no to this newborn baby girl (and B rolled his eyes at me at the idea of me saying no to a Hispanic baby girl), and waited overnight to find out if we would be called to pick her up or not when she was discharged.

We got the call to be at the hospital ASAP, especially because they were hoping to avoid confrontation with an upset relative.  This thankfully did not happen, but it was a trip to the hospital I would never forget.  The agency offered that one of their social workers meet me there to support me, and I'm very glad I took them up on their offer as a brand new foster mom.  Awkwardness from beginning to end, even in asking for directions at an information desk but not being able to say the name of the mother of the baby, because I didn't know it.  All the nurses on the postpartum floor were staring at me.  But I met up with the social worker and filled out forms and waited in a conference room.  A nurse wheeled in little Pterodactyl in all her newborn sweetness in her bassinet.  She was swimming in a 3-6 month sleeper.  The nurse was having a tough time with the whole ordeal emotionally, and I'm sure she overhead much more of the whole story than I know to this day.  Then I was told that the birth mom was asking about me, who I was, and wanted to meet me, know about my family, etc.  Her older children are in a relative's care, so foster parents were new territory.  Though new territory doesn't begin to describe meeting a woman who gave birth to a child three days ago right before that child would go home with me, against her wishes.  I didn't have to agree to meet her right then, but I took a deep breath and said that I would.  I introduced myself, said I had two sons, and trailed off immediately as I looked at the young woman before me, tears quietly streaming down her face.  She should have been celebrating, cradling her new baby with family and friends gushing around her.  This was all wrong.  "I just want to help however I can."  It was quiet a little longer, then the social worker had me walk back out.

A chat with the doctor and a car seat check, and we (the social worker and myself) were on our way.  And we were a sight.  I had bought a convertible car seat that was good for newborns, not a bucket seat, so a baby couldn't be actually carried in it.  So, the social worker carried a car seat, and I carried Pterodactyl in a blanket.  No woman in a wheelchair or proud dad carrying a bucket car seat with a baby inside.  Not to mention the racial mismatch.  Everyone gave us a look.  I wanted a sign that said, "I'm not stealing this baby!"

And she came to live in our home, our first foster child.