I’ve procrastinated writing this. I think we’re both still in disbelief. But the show must go on, and my backlog of blogging is starting to cause me nearly as much anxiety as my backlog of Constitutional Law reading, so I may as well at least do one of them.
It was last Thursday and I was all dressed up like a miniature toy Schnauser future lawyer for the career fair at law school (this is where we get led around on leashes and shown off to potential employers who can’t hire anyone because the economy sucks). Indifferent Ingrid calls to let me know that Parker’s Bio Mom has passed whatever criteria necessary for a trial home placement and that instead of coming home from Rehab that afternoon, Bio Mom was just going to take the baby for good.
We weren’t totally blindsided — Indifferent Ingrid had texted me earlier in the week because she needed something (note: didn’t even ask how the baby was and let’s not forget that she hasn’t seen her in a month and a half either). Only because I asked, she updated me that Bio Mom was working on passing the criteria for a trial home placement.
But lets go back to Thursday, as I stand sweating in a suit, with no prior warning that the baby I sent off to rehab that morning was never coming back. There were a few problems with this scenario – first, Parker goes to rehab each day in my carseat. Second, we’ve purchased several boxes of items in preparation for her returning to Bio Mom. Among her items are a supply of (very expensive) formula for her sensitive belly. Third, we don’t think it completely irrational to request to at least say goodbye to the child we’ve been raising for nearly 2 months. I stood my ground with Indifferent Ingrid, but because it wasn’t convenient for her to pick up the baby and her belongings, we were doing it her way.
Indifferent Ingrid informed me that she would make sure I “got my stuff back,” and when I asked about her picking up all of Parker’s items, she replied that she didn’t think that (formerly homeless, unemployed and raising several other children) Bio Mom really needed them. The formula? ”She can find her own way to feed her baby.”
Rehab dropped off the carseat a little later. Crystal had taken the afternoon off work to be there for Parker’s regular drop-off since I would be at the career fair. This is what low-life, only-in-it-for-the-”money” (that hardly covers the cost of diapers), baby-stealing, spitefull-toward-birth-family Foster Parents do, in case you don’t know. We decorate nurseries, hire bilingual nannies, train them to sleep through the night, use kangaroo-care for bonding, try 3 different baby bottles to reduce painful-on-tiny-tummies gas, and take time off work/school for these kids. We form attachments, prepare (and purchase) for their departure while simultaneously planning for a potential future with them. And we don’t even get to say goodbye.
The most ridiculous part of our Thursday was that not only did the car seat get dropped off by Rehab, but every single thing Parker had been sent that day with came back too. Bottles, diapers, wipes, toys….her blanket….her pacifier…her outfit…her socks. All hastily shoved in the diaper bag. I can only imagine what Indifferent Ingrid told Bio Mom about making sure that she didn’t “steal any of that foster mom’s stuff.” The worst part is that just like I didn’t know that Parker would be going home with Bio Mom, she also didn’t have advance warning.
Which means that she had to carry Parker through the cold streets naked. To the bus stop. In the ice and snow. Without even a spare diaper – let alone the liquid-gold formula – for fear that she would be accused of stealing.
And because the case worker is too damn lazy to drive her taxpayer-funded, state-issued vehicle to pick up the things that Bio Mom needs, I dropped off two bags full of formula, bottles, clothes, diapers, wipes, and toys at Rehab early the next morning, along with the diaper bag we bought for Bio Mom, before heading to school. Bio Mom wasn’t there yet, but I’m sure she was more than grateful that someone went out of her way to (yet again) do DCFS’s job for them.
