First Placement

I spent the morning visiting my grandma before she went into surgery for a mastectomy.

It was a bit emotional and I called Paul to let him know I was interested in driving an hour and a half on a weeknight to see a favorite Christian band perform their incredibly uplifting and encouraging new album.  My reasoning was that we didn't have any children, we were still free to do whatever we wanted and stay out as late as we wanted, even on a school night! And besides, I could use some live concert inspiration. Little did I know...

In the late afternoon, I received a call from a placement worker. I thought it was a call to get to know me and what we were interested in for a placement, but in the end she said she had a 12-month-old boy who they were trying to locate and she was expecting him to be removed from his family the following day and oh, by the way, are we interested in taking in this emergency placement?

An hour later she called and said his social worker is with the boy's mother and is waiting for the police to arrive so he can be removed from his home and brought to the main office.

Half an hour later, she called and said can you be at the main office in 10 minutes?  He's on his way.  Talk about an emergency placement! Thankfully licensing makes us have a crib and a car seat for moments like this!

At the main office, which is only 5 minutes from our home, we sign some papers, they give us a quick run down on what needs to be done, such as a physical examination for the boy within the next 30 days...but to protect us, it should be in the next 24-hours in case there are bruises or anything, so we are not liable.  They give us his basic information: his name, birthday and allergies.  They hand us precious "Carson" (not his real name for privacy reasons) and his grocery bag consisting of a semi-soiled onesie, a stuffed animal, and a candy toy.

That's it, we're official foster parents, in an hour and a half our lives changed.

Carson doesn't cry, he doesn't speak, he doesn't smile or laugh. He just looks observantly at us and his new environment.  He has chubby cheeks, brown eyes, and a sandy brown Mohawk.  He wears 18-month clothes, although they are a little big for him.

Paul's gracious parents make a quick trip to Wal-Mart for necessities like diapers, clothes, food, and utensils.

Carson plays with toys (thanks to all our wonderful nieces and nephew) and we give him a bath.  He sees the bottle and lays down on the floor and reaches out for it.  He falls asleep on his own, an empty bottle clutched in his teeth.

Paul and I sleep in the Parlor, it is the small living room adjacent to Carson's room.  He screams and cries intermittently throughout the entire night, every hour or two.

Night Terrors. (according to Google)

He never opens his eyes. We pat his back and rock him back to peaceful sleep.  It is a long night and at one point while crammed on the small couch looking at my husband on the other couch fast asleep, I think about how ironic that this was the night we were going to go to a concert on a weeknight because we could, and I think to myself, I wouldn't trade this night for that night, not when I can be helping this innocent child.  I finally drift off to sleep praying for him and for us.