Day 1 of 31

Today I am following the encouragement of an awesome mommy blogger, Lisa Jo Baker aka The Gypsy Mama, to write a new blog each day for the next 31 days.  This seems like a great jumping off point for me, whose writing has been blocked for a while despite the fact that my days are more open and my sleeping is consistent and the children have been full of new developments and growth that makes me proud to have this front row seat to it all.  The youngest child, in particular, has been filling my heart and my prayers as we FINALLY make some progress on our journey to make him legally ours. 

September began with a court date!  The date we had waited for all summer!  (in truth, the date I had hoped would come since the moment I held his little body in my arms one year ago)  My husband worked from home, I shaved my legs and put on a dressy skirt and blazer, and got in the car to head downtown.  Despite a call from the oldest boy's teacher stating that he was acting a little off that day (big surprise, the crazy kid was awake before 6 am asking to play video games!) and did I want him to finish out the day?  To which my response was maybe not the most compassionate and who knows what kind of impression I've made on this new teacher? but she thought he would be fine for a few more hours, and thank goodness because the hearing is at 1pm and its almost 12:45 and I don't know where to park or how long it will take to get upstairs!!  But thankfully, I parked quickly, walked quickly, found the right elevator to take me to the family court and got to the check-in point just as the judge was calling the hearing into session.  Now the crazy thing about this whole time, is the closer I got to the hearing, the more nervous and shaky I became.  I'm not really sure exactly why, except that I do get nervous in courtrooms, and I was worried about seeing the birth parents who were losing custody of their child because they hadn't made contact with him or Children Services in over 6 months.  Not to fear about the baby's mom and dad; they stayed true to form and didn't show up to court.  In fact, both of their defenders asked to be excused from the case because they hadn't seen their clients in many months to know how they would want to be represented in the case.  Which left the CS attorney, baby's caseworker and guardian ad litem, and myself facing the judge and his bailiff.  The attorney asked the caseworker to present the case, all of the information that I know through previous court documents, home visits, and permanency planning meetings.  And the judge sat in his little booth typing something on his computer, only looking up from the monitor when the social worker addressed the issue of the birth parents' sex life.  Later, she explained to me that he was writing up his decision as the case was being presented; with no defense from the other table, he would obviously rule in favor of CS, owing to the legal grounds for terminating their rights and the paperwork received in advance of the court date.  Both the social worker and GAL spoke directly to the issue of our baby having a right to permanency in his life and the loving foster family waiting to give him their name (hey, that's me!), which was very touching to hear.  And then it was over.

Fifteen days later, I got a call from the guardian that the judge had approved the motion from Children Services to sever parental rights, and the next day the caseworker called to tell me that we had been assigned an adoption case worker to help us complete the paperwork and get another court date to make it official.  In the words of the court,
"This court action will try to determine who shall have the legal custody of your child.  If your child should be awarded to the permanent custody of the agency stated in the complaint, then you will be divested of any and all legal rights to the child.  You will no longer have the right to determine where or with whom the child shall reside or what religion the child shall practice.  You will no longer have the right to consent to the adoption of the child.  All of your parental rights, duties, obligations, and responsibilities will be ended.  You will no longer be responsible for the child's support and raising.  The child will be in the legal and permanent custody of the agency as the court determines."
While these words, this ruling, they thrill me with the knowledge that my sweet angel will be fully mine, it also stops me and brings tears to my eyes as I mourn for the birth parents.  To my husband, this is silly, because they have stopped being involved in his life, and so we should just be 100% happy that the law permits us to take him into our family.  For me, knowing how much my life has been better because of the children I have brought into the world, I can't celebrate a couple losing that opportunity, despite the ownership that they have over their choices which led to it.  I'm also sad for the day when we have to explain this to Michael.  The only thing I can give him is my presence.  I was there when he was in the hospital.  I was there, holding him, when the drugs were leaving his body.  I was there when he drank, when he ate, when he crawled, and played, and smiled, and cried.  I was there in that court room for him, and I'll be there when he is old enough to hear the truth.

Boys will be boys

I grew up in a very female-driven home.  Between my mom, sister, and myself, my dad was outnumbered in the area of gender, and having lived most of his life with a mother and two sisters (in addition to an older brother and a father who passed in his childhood), he ceded the house to us.  A wise move.  If there is one thing our family does well across the board, it is strong women.  We are stubborn and confident and hyper-verbal, and then puberty starts and you add in a heavy dose of hormones.  While I wouldn't describe myself or my sister as "girly", with our love of sports and sarcasm and jeans, we grew up in a house with flowers on the walls and ruffles on the beds and skirts in the closets.  I remember going with my mom to an exercise class, and she asked me to sit in a chair and then went and exercised for half an hour and came back and I was still there.  I remember sitting to color, to read, to get my hair brushed.  When Liz and I would play Barbies, we would spend an hour just brushing their hair and choosing their clothes and setting up their living room in a corner of our bedroom, and then we could start a scene.  We were girls.

When I got married and we were having our first baby, I thought about whether it would be a boy or a girl.  Did I want a boy?  Eventually I decided that probably a boy would be best, because this child would be a teenager someday, and I really didn't want a teenage daughter who would say to me the things my sister and I had said to our mom.  So lucky me, the day came and a little boy came out!  I felt like an anthropologist studying another culture, one that didn't hold the same values and taboos as the one I originated from.  The gender differences start at birth.  You have to decide whether or not to circumcise your son.  You and your spouse have to have a conversation about a 1 day old penis.  Then there are clothes.  Look at the baby store, the side dedicated to girls clothes is huge and colorful and you can choose shirts or dresses or pjs or even little tutus.  The boys side...there are shirts and pants.  There is blue or green.  Dinosaurs or bears.  So you don't really get too excited about dressing your son.  And the moment he becomes mobile, he goes for wheels, balls, flashy lights, blocks.  When I became pregnant a second time, I really wanted to have a little girl.  I thought my life would be complete with a husband, a house, a son and a daughter.  I was ready to face the teenage years.  But the ultrasound showed another penis on its way to the circumcision table.  So, huh, okay.  I can have boys.  When we opened our home as foster parents, I said to my husband, Maybe this is how we'll get a daughter.  Obviously he's only shooting boys, so we'll have to depend on someone else's DNA to bring us a girl.  And we got another boy.  Which means we now have 3 boys in our house.  Which means that my entire childhood has prepared me for very little about being a mother.  Which means we live in Boy World.

In Boy World, you find cars everywhere.  Behind the toilet, in your shoes, in the fridge.
In Boy World, you have entire conversations solely consisting of sound effects.  No words necessary.
You get excited along with your kid when the garbage truck comes down the street, or you get stopped at a railroad crossing and get to watch a train go by.
You say things like, "Stop eating the carpet!" "Don't pee on your brother!" "Knives are not toys!"
You learn the names of Thomas and his friends.
You welcome a trampoline so the kids will stop jumping on your bed.
You abandon art projects and just let the kids color their chests with markers.
You learn that a headbutt is a sign of affection.
You know 14 different ways to play with a playground ball, but are completely at a loss when presented with a doll.
You learn to appreciate the way your sons were made, the biological differences between you and your sweet little boys, and the unique opportunity to observe and learn.