I am writing now in an attempt to capture the beauty, pain and turmoil of anticipation. Tonight I ready my home just in case we are blessed to care for a foster baby who needs our family's love. About two weeks ago, my children and I were made aware of the possible need of our home for foster care of a medically fragile infant who was born opioid addicted. Today we received word that he may arrive to our home tomorrow...or, he may not. For two weeks he has fought a battle, the harshness and pain of which most of us will never experience in our lives. Hospital staff have worked to soothe him away from the addiction that riddled his body. And so, at this point, we await word of whether or not his birth parents will sign the papers surrendering their parental rights. If they do sign, he goes home to adoptive parents who are waiting for him to be their son. If they don't sign, he will come to our home until his future is decided. Over the past two weeks, and exponentially multiplied now, my heart has taken this baby and his parents, both birth and adoptive, into its loving embrace. My prayers abound and so in this moment I feel it is imperative to share the thoughts and emotions running through my core as I attempt to be mindful and in the moment.
First, the baby: Innocence. Born to live the first two weeks of his life in turmoil. Older people require years to overcome addiction. The pain is shared. The fear is lived and relived. The withdrawal is more than many can handle, and so they go back to the very drug that brings them such pain. Here is this little baby. He had no choice. He has been withdrawing from the evil for two weeks instead of spending these precious moments in the arms of a mother who was able to love him in that way. The future implications of his gestation and the first two weeks of his life are uncertain. And he unfortunately has company of many others. Other babies are born to the same or similar painful beginnings every-single-day. How many of us take the time to think of these babies? We know addiction, and in particular the epidemic of opioid addiction, is excruciating. But I know that I am guilty of not having given it much thought until it was put in front of me and my children in the form of a possible new foster child entering our home. My question always is, as it has been these weeks as I contemplated and cried for this baby I have never met, "What more should I be doing?"
Next, the parents: It is all too easy to point fingers, lay blame, feel anger at the people who brought a child into the world in this way. Please stop. I guarantee it was not a choice made in any way similar to how most are able to make choices. My heart breaks for the birth parents, but as a mom myself, I feel especially connected to the mother. I know she is as in love with her baby as I was with all of mine. If she signs papers tonight, the baby will go to his adoptive family immediately upon discharge tomorrow. If she doesn't, he will come to my home. Either way, because of her addiction, she is unable to adequately care for and parent this little boy that she carried inside her body for the term of his gestation. She is not, I am sure, flippantly making the decisions with which she is confronted. If opioid addiction was something she could easily toss aside in order to care for her baby, I am certain she would do so. For her, the most loving thing to do might be to sign away her parental rights. Can you imagine??? Addiction... It is evil. It is controlling. It is debilitating. Can I imagine anything that would stand between my children and me? No. But neither have I ever been in the grips of addiction. The life of one held captive by addiction is not easy and choices, many times, are not theirs to make. And so, for this mom and dad, my heart weeps. I cannot imagine what these past two weeks have held for them, and the continued torment they will live. Nope. No judgement here, just more tears of frustration and loathing for the evils of our world.
Can't forget the hospital staff: Hearts of steel plated gold! The strength they muster in order to care for these babies and their parents through such traumatic events is amazing! There are birth parent counselors, doctors, nurses, each taking on a role in the lives of these new babies. Holding them as they cry, feeding them through withdrawal, loving them as they experience their first days of a harsh new world, harsher to them as their bodies yearn for the drug they have come to need. These are people in line with you at Quick Check or the supermarket. Parents of your child's classmates. Regular folks called to do amazing work. They expend their emotional and physical energy for the benefit of babies and parents. Parents who, by default, feel victimized, ostracized and judged, and so might not find it in their ability to thank the very folks who are working to save lives. And so, we must thank them as a society. The service they provide goes far beyond that which most are called to take on.
Finally, the adoptive parents: In all of my fostering, it has been about 8 years now, I have never been in the position of the adoptive parents, and I do not envy the plethora of feelings they must endure. I have met and spoken with many parents of adoption. The wait for these parents tonight goes well beyond my need to plan for a possible short term foster placement. Can you imagine not knowing whether or not your son will come home tomorrow when released from the hospital? Or if he will be your son at all? Imagine the inner turmoil of rooting for parental surrender of rights...that is harsh. I believe the pain of adoption is real. The not knowing. The questions. The necessary abandon of all control of the situation. And the hope...all the hope.
And so, with the anticipation of the possible arrival of this baby in our home, I ask you to try to keep these children and all involved in this little corner of life, in your minds. Those of you who are fellow teachers should know that these are the children of your future. In fact, they are the children of your present...there are stories in your classrooms that will make you shudder, if you take the time to know them. These are human stories, and we are all called to take them into our hearts, as my children and I have done for the past two weeks, let them fester there and make you feel what they have to offer. It is not pleasant, but it is real. There are several dimensions to every story, and it is up to us, not to judge, but to love the children and parents though it all. We are in this life together! I'll keep you posted...meanwhile, let me go set up a crib... just in case.
