Saying Good-bye
Oftentimes, your mind can know something, but the message doesn’t quite reach your heart...
When we brought three day old Baby Megan into our home we were told that she was going to leave us quickly. At each court date it was reiterated, and yet, time passed and she stayed. At first there was a bustle of trying to put her with these relatives or those ones until all of the relative options were exhausted, and she was still with us. And we kept right on praying and dared to hope. I thought of the amazing story that we would have to tell her of how God overcame so many obstacles so that she could be a part of our family.
Following the bustle were three months of nothing. No hearings. No court. No word. And then a sudden e-mail tagged on to a response to a message I’d sent. One moment I’m eating lunch with my daughters and the next, Katie’s concerned voice, “Mommy, why are you crying?”
We just got the order today. I understand your concerns, but Judge C. ruled that this was best, she will be moving. I’m working with the worker (out of state) to find out when exactly this will be happening. I will be taking (Megan) to the Michigan border, so I will contact you once we know more about a good date/time.
That was all. No warning in the subject line, she hadn’t even bothered to change it. No intro, no cushions of kind words or condolences, but in the end does it even matter? The result is the same. Numbness followed by overwhelming grief.
I spent the next few days chasing down every possible lead, grateful that my boys were at camp so they didn’t have to endure the emotional roller coaster. The lawyer couldn’t help because the judge had ordered the move. And, even though the move was against policy, (They are not to move a child to an unrelated foster home after the child has been in the current home for more than 30 days.) the Michigan Foster Care Review Board couldn’t help me because the case jurisdiction was now in a different state, and the other state’s review board couldn’t help because we are Michigan foster parents.
Our caseworker just wanted to pass the case as quickly as possible, and when I contacted the worker from the other state, I found that she didn’t even know that we wanted to keep Megan in our care, if possible. Apparently, our caseworker failed to mention it. The other worker was kind and compassionate. She tried to help us, but hit red tape with her legal department. They weren’t willing to work with an out-of-state foster home that wasn’t related to the child. We were out of options.
And, so finally. I began writing a letter to her new family telling them about our precious Meggie, when she ate, how she liked to be held, about her sweet smile and natural curiosity. I begged them to love her and take good care of her. And then I packed her clothes, dividing up all the matching outfits, putting Meggie’s half into the duffle, while putting our other foster baby, Jenn’s, back in the drawer. I knew that I’d never put them on Jennifer again, but I didn’t have the heart to pack them away. I took down her pictures and set them by the front door. Last of all, I laid her teddy bear in on the very top.
When that Wednesday morning came my family drew near. They had spent the last twenty-four hours fasting and covering us in prayer, each praying for an hour, then calling the next to take over. We gathered quietly in the living room, each one taking a turn hugging and holding Megan, praying over her and saying good-bye until she was back in my arms again. I fed her one last time and prayed for her safety and happiness, that God would send His angels to guide her and protect her, that she would never know a day without Him. And I thanked Him, for who she is, for the five and half months that we had with her, that we’d have the privilege of loving her and praying for her for the rest of our lives.
When the car arrived to take her away I had her bags ready by the door. I didn’t want the caseworker there any longer than necessary, intruding on our grief with her indifference. With my army of support gathered close I carried Meggie outside. Matt hooked in the carseat base while my dad and sisters loaded her things into the trunk. I gave Meggie one last hug and gingerly buckled her into her carseat for the final time. She found my finger with her tiny hand and held on, smiling up at me with sleepy eyes, happy and inquiring -a look all her own. At last everything was ready. Still I waited. Uncoiling her little fingers from mine was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I carried her to the car where I kissed her and stroked her soft hair, waiting long moments for a miracle that never came. Then I turned and went with Matt in to the house where we watched until the car was out of sight.