A Sliver of Hope
Yesterday we got a sliver of hope; our case manager called and told us that the case worker of a little girl we had submitted for the day before had reached out to her and asked for more pictures of us and our house. She didn't want to get our hopes up, but she thought this was a good sign, especially since the deadline for submissions wasn't for another 2 weeks.
It had been a few weeks since we had been contacted for any children, and we still had not heard anything on any of the kids we had submitted for. It's really easy at this point to start getting inside your head and start thinking negative thoughts: there must be something wrong with our home study, do they not want two working parents, are we being too picky and confining with our requirements, will we ever find our child?
When I got this email, a super excited feeling immediately sprang up inside of me. But then my next immediate reaction was to squash this feeling, because too much excitement in this situation is a very dangerous thing. I've been having to tell myself over and over again, "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and expect nothing", because it's a survival mechanism. Otherwise, it's very easy to start imagining myself as a mom to this little 2 year-old girl, growing up with her cousins and surrounded by a family and friends who love her. But then also having to tell myself that it's all part of God's plan when I find out that she went to another (I'm sure lovely) home.
Then, today, even more hope; our case manager contacted us because the case worker for another little 2 year-old girl we submitted for had contacted her. The case worker said she LOVED the Cater Flesher home study, and just had some follow-up questions for us. Our case manager didn't want to get us too excited, and once again I was trying to temper my excitement - and I was also a bundle of nerves because I got this call as I was at the Doctor's office waiting to go in for my LASIK procedure - but I couldn't believe that after not hearing ANYTHING AT ALL for the other 4 studies we've submitted, we had heard back almost immediately on these two, and things seemed positive. I was definitely hopeful, but cautious.
The questions were all pretty straightforward and made complete sense on clarifications from our home study. This little girl still has weekly visits with mom who is about 1.5 hours away from Austin, so the case worker wanted to be sure that we were ok with committing to that, which of course we are if it's in the best interest of the child. She asked about our work situations, because Trey's last job in particular required a lot of work; he's currently looking for a new one that wouldn't require him to be on the road every week.
The last question was the one that struck me the most, though; how would you feel about "Girl A" if you were to have biological children down the road? Wow. Now, I'm not in a place to judge, never having had kids myself, but one thing that has really bothered me in reading a lot of the foster groups and posts by other foster/adoptive parents is referring to kids as bio vs other (foster/adopt/whatever). Now, Trey and I are not planning to have biological children, and never have been, but the idea that you could or would treat your child differently because they are of the same genetic makeup of you versus not is just a completely foreign concept to me. Once again, without ever having had a child, it's hard for me to understand, but the ache I feel hoping that one of these children is my child - not because they share the same genetic makeup, but because of the love you develop as a parent for a child watching them grow and blossom and try and fail - is real and deep and visceral and I haven't even met them yet.
And so that is exactly what I told my case manager. Trey and I aren't planning to have biological children, but even if we were, she would be our daughter, period. Not our foster daughter. Not our adopted daughter. Not our non-biological daughter. Just our daughter. And, we hope that others will see her that way, too.
And so, I continue to hold out hope. Hope that our child is out there and one of these case workers will recognize it and we will find each other, the same way that Trey and I found each other in this great big universe. Hope that, despite rejection and silence and the agony of endless waiting, it will all be worth it the day that I look into my child's eyes. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, "We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."
