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I’m Nobody. Who are you?
Are you- Nobody- too?
Then there is a pair of us!
Emily Dickinson 1830-1886
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When Baby Care is the Easy Part
It has been a fast and furious few months. Covid, on-line end of school with kiddos and the baby coming home from the NICU. What an adventure it has been.
So many people talking about the disaster that has been 2020, and to be honest I am not sure I have gotten enough sleep to be fully aware of the state of the world. It is taking everything in me to keep things together at home. I hope the wider world is still alive and kicking when I finally emerge from this fog I’ve been living in.
Our little Ephemeral baby is doing so well. She has got delays and some challenges but she is a joy. Despite the screaming and hair pulling, physical therapy appointments, occupational appointments, juggling feedings, diapers all while working from home, seems she will be the easy part of this adventure. My husband has changed his tune from “we are WAY to old to take on an infant” to “they’ll have to go through me to get this kiddo placed anywhere else!”.
I know like any big undertaking you can never be truly prepared for everything you’ll experience. You can prep and plan and investigate but inevitably something will leap out of the shadows and wollup you. In our case it has been working with the Department of Human Services. Don’t misunderstand, they have been great, but the process…. the process has been like a trek through gator infested swamps while wearing a meat suit. You just never know when a critter is going to make a grab at you and pull you under. Here the critter being the bio parents of Tiny Baby. They don’t visit her, don’t always attend court, don’t return caseworker phone calls, yet somehow they try to paint me as the one standing in the way of their family reunification.
I’ve always wanted to foster kids. There are so many kids out there who just need to be given the opportunity to be kids. This isn’t out of some misplaced baby-stealing obsession. So why the backlash from the parents? Guilt? Denial? Last I checked it isn’t my fault DHS had to get involved, if you want your kiddos to stay home with you try not doing drugs! In fairness I recognize that is a gross oversimplification, but I am not the cause of their distress.
Bio-Dad cannot make a decision about anything and Bio-Mom has no follow through. Basically we are spinning our wheels until they can decide to do something, do anything. This is taking even longer than the Caseworkers had anticipated. The system isn’t easy, the system isn’t always fair, but it is the system we’ve got. I will just keep on plugging along, playing by the rules and try to avoid the critters snapping at my heels.
Be safe Tiny Baby, that’s all you need to do. Keep growing little girl, we’ve got the rest.
When good babies go bad
Just kidding, I don’t really know any bad babies. Just easy ones, challenging ones, cranky ones, sick ones etc. So our ephemeral baby came home from the hospital and has come to stay, at least for a while. She is still tiny but looks more like a growing baby everyday. What a funny thing! She still isn’t “due” so it is hard to think she is almost 2 months old.
This whole process of fostering is a minefield. Some days pure joy, then BAM you step on a mine sending your day into turmoil, a stark reminder that this baby you stay up with, take to appointments, worry about can be given back to the parents at any moment. If there was confidence that the parents were prepared, healthy and stable it wouldn’t be so heartwrenching.
I keep reminding myself that in the system there is no such thing as a “moment’s notice”, everything comes with meetings, paperwork, approvals and such but it is still a precarious place to live. I also remind myself that all parents no matter age, how financially set or the amount of support are never ready for a new baby. We all fumbled, did silly things out of inexperience as new parents. These things don’t always make me feel better. I don’t think people bring children into the world with ill intentions. My first daughter was conceived without any intention (oops!), but we at least try to prepare, do the best we can. What about parents that bring children into the world viewing them as an inconvenience or regrettable mistake, or worse yet, give them no thought at all. Unfortunately that’s how our ephemeral baby came into the world.
I will continue to get up at night, take our baby to her appointments (there are many!) attend DHS meetings, court appointments, visits and so many other things, and cuddle this baby who fought so hard to be here. I will fight with her as hard as she has fought these first moments of her life. In her 32 weeks in utero she fought to survive. She was born to lungs that didn’t want to work, she fought to grow with the help of IVs, respirators, heart monitors and feeding tubes. Now out of the hospital she has fought to learn how to eat, how to breathe, how to sleep, how to bond. I am fighting right along with her. You keep going my tiny warrior.
“What Was I Thinking?!” And Other Symptoms of Motherhood
If you read a previous post you will see I am in the process of potentially adding a very tiny person to my brood. She is still tiny, still frail and there is a lot up in the air but there you have it. I loved her before I met her, and I wasn’t even the one growing her! She is my ephemeral baby. The baby no one knew was coming, didn’t think would survive and now is seventeen days into her life and needing a home after her hospital stay.
Now here’s the rub- I love her, have space for her and am already making plans to bring her home, but there are no guarantees. Her mother and I have had a rough relationship for a while now because I do not approve of the continued life choices and victimization that has been happening. Now she has brought a new little person into the world with zero plans on how to care for her. I am offering but who knows what will actually happen.
Regardless of this uncertainty I continue to plan as though the tiny baby with no name will be coming to stay. She is fragile, grumpy, and perfect. It will be a change since my youngest is almost fifteen, and diapers are a distant memory. I spent last night enjoying some “me” time when it hit me- enjoy it now! This may be coming to an end soon. What was I thinking?! I have said numerous times when seeing friends with heir tiny kids or strangers quelling toddler tantrums that I was so glad to never have to do that again! Well now here I am desperately hoping this little one will get to come how with me.
I am already exhausted just thinking of it! Teenagers and an infant at the same time?! There is a reason nature tries to prevent this from happening by stemming our childbearing years. I will have teens slamming doors, yelling that I am ruining their lives all at the same time I will be yelling back “SHHHH! Don’t wake the baby!!”. I have obviously gone insane.
Apparently starting a new job, buying a new house and teaching my teens to drive was not enough stress and excitement this year! Let’s throw a sick baby into the mix! In moments of fear, or maybe clarity? I worry that I am letting my emotions take control. Am I feeling pulled to this tiny being by some weird biological instinct to protect tiny helpless humans? Some weird familial bond? Then I think maybe it isn’t fair to my teens or my husband who also felt we were done with the diaper years and has also expressed his exhaustion at “raising other people’s children”, long story there. All of that to be said, I wonder if I am making the right decision. Then I visit that baby face in the hospital, all three pounds working hard to learn to breathe and eat and move, and all I can think is, “there’s my baby”. Maternal instincts are no joke! Bio babies or not, hats off to the other moms out there who have gone through this and made it out sane on the other side. You are my heroes.
Tiny fingers and fiery skin
The tiny baby that unexpectedly entered my life last week had a good day. She is breathing normal air now and got her c-pap exchanged with a regular oxygen tube.
It takes everything in my power not to kiss her tiny fuzzy head and caress her tiny face. The nurses explained that preemie skin is too underdeveloped and for the babies feels like they have a sunburn. Learning touch is a process for the preemies because at first everything hurts. So for now I will hold her tiny fingers and have a lot of hope.
The future is still unsure, so she remains my ephemeral baby (as mentioned in my previous post). Looks like both of us have a fight coming up. She will continue to fight to breathe and grow, and I will fight to protect her and get custody. For now we will just appreciate the small things- fuzzy heads, good days and the thrill of seeing neighboring babies in the NICU going home with elated and hopeful parents.
Today’s Moooo-d
Ephemeral Babies
Babyhood is short, fleeting and often people advise “enjoy it, they aren’t babies for long”. This is not what I am referring to. What about babies that entered the world unscheduled, unexpectedly and maintain only a precarious hold? This is not a humorous post, and I cannot predict the outcome. If this is a subject that hits too close to home, opens up psychological scars or still fresh wounds, please stop reading now. And know I am sorry you ever had to feel the chasm left by that tiny little person.
Yesterday I unexpectedly had a baby enter my life that is possibly one of these ephemeral babies. Possibly here for a short and unpredictable amount of time. I saw her tiny purple hands and all I could think was “this is my baby”. I have to clarify here that she is not, biologically, my baby. My husband and I decided years ago we did not want any more kids. This baby is a relative. Born from a body that was ill prepared to carry the weight of growing a person and delivered to a woman who was not emotionally or psychologically wired to accept this baby.
The baby was developed in a nutritionally deprived environment, growing in a soup of heroine, alcohol and other substances. The body and environment I mention is a family member that I loved dearly, but we lost years ago to this sad, belligerent, dishonest stranger. She no longer looks, acts or talks like the funny, kind person I once knew. Addiction is an dehumanizing daemon and I hope no one reading this understands what I mean. If you do, I am sorry for your pain. Know you are loved and not alone.
Back to the baby. Born at 32 weeks and 3 pounds she is an astounding and beautiful little model of survival and fierce determination. It is too early to say, but at this point, the only complications are the undeveloped lungs of any preemie and she will soon be facing the hardships of withdraw that happens to any baby born of addiction.
I had gone to the hospital with every intention of being there to console immediate family and share in the grief that these events evoke. I had prepared myself for a sick baby, tied to tubes, suffering, and not quite whole. She is all of those things, but when I met her, something exploded in my chest and all I could think was “this is MY baby”. I wanted to hold her, protect her and love her with a ferocity only felt for my other children.
She has no name, her mother didn’t give her one. Myself and one other family member are the only ones who have seen her. Her mother has yet to touch her, ask about her, or even sign the permissions for the nursing staff to provide the medical treatments she needs. She is only two days old. She may have a beautiful, long life ahead of her. Or perhaps a short, difficult life already pre-determined. Whichever lies ahead I am going to be there. I have spoken with social workers, nurses and intend to speak to a lawyer. I plan to do whatever I can to care for this tiny warrior for whatever time she has. I never intended to be the type to take on other women’s babies, heck, we didn’t even want more kids! All of that was before I met my baby.
If anyone has experience, advice or insight into preemies or fostering, I am in dire need of your help. Or if I need to let this baby go, I’ll need help understanding how to do that as well.
The naked truth and things I didn’t expect to see at work today….
I meet and see A LOT of people in my line of work. Mostly people who never remember my name or maybe never even ask for it. No hard feelings. It’s not about me and I am OK with that. The interesting thing is how often I get to see people in times that they may not be used to or even aware that they are being observed. I get to see the best and worst of humanity.
I have to say there are a lot of terrible people out there. But also a lot of funny, kind, amazing people too. I would like to focus on the good one’s today, the horrible people get WAAAAY to much press as it is.
So a quick thank you to some unsung heroes- our first responders. Maybe you are thinking “but they do get a lot of recognition for being heroes!”. I would agree that yes we do see ways in which they get thanked and appreciated, but that is for the big things- fighting fires, stopping criminals, resuscitating loved ones etc. All wonderful things. But what I am talking about is the bizarre shit that doesn’t make the headlines. The weird parts of humanity that they witness every day and keep returning to.
I once went on a call for our local police department. I met up with the officers and they filled me in on the situation. (Thanks guys! This doesn’t always happen!) Nothing too unusual or alarming, some nearby college kids getting called in for fighting. As we knocked on the door we were greeted by a very intoxicated (or medicated?) woman who was buck naked. Not a strip of fabric on that woman. The officers who both appeared to be in their mid twenties, only a year or two older than the naked woman in question, did not react. I however let out a surprised squeak and my eyeballs may have popped out of my head a bit. I quickly tried to regain my composure while being stared down by the woman’s large nipples and voluminous breasts.
Calmly and while making direct eye contact with the woman the officers introduced themselves and one discretely handed her his jacket so she could cover up. He need not have worried about her concerns of decency. To be fair she did answer the door naked AND was on the couch of the apartment watching her two roommates have a knock down drag out bloody fist fight.
Seeing as she was the main witness, most of the communication was happening with her. This was both entertaining and awkward as she had a flair for story telling but was also quite energetic. Her grasp on the officers jacket kept slipping and repeatedly exposing herself. I think I have seen more of that woman’s naked body than I have my own.
Long story short, no one went to jail, not one got a ticket and everyone was told to simmer down, go about their day and perhaps let our female protagonist sleep off her inebriation.
These are not the kind of incidences that get officers medals, or accolades on the evening news. I can say they were my heroes that day. They allowed a woman to keep her dignity (as much as she felt she wanted) and remained professional in a situation that would sent most twenty-five year old guys into a fit of giggles, elbow nudging and raised eyebrows. My message to them would be- “hats off to you gentlemen, and I hope you laundered your jacket”. Does the police budget allow for extra dry cleaning bills?
College students and other Angry Vermin!
My daughter and her girl friend stumbled upon an injured bat while walking their dog. It was making pathetic screechy noises and they didn’t want to leave it lying on the path so they went to their apartment, grabbed a towel, wrapped it up and set it in a box to see how they could help the little thing. Luckily my daughter goes to a University with a large veterinary and agricultural program and they take many injured and lost animals. Except bats. They don’t take bats.
They were referred to a bat rescue who advised they put the little guy in his box in a dark closet so he could calm down. By this point the angry, assumedly sick bat was making some pretty awful screaming noises. When they opened the box they looked in to find him howling and angrily biting and attacking the towel he was wrapped in. They kept the little guy as comfortable as possible until the rescue could send someone to pick him up.
Fast forward to several days later after the rescue had picked the bat for some rehabilitation and recuperation. My daughter gets a call from the rescue saying that unfortunately the little guy didn’t make it, sad inevitable since he was so sick. This is then followed by casual mention that the bat had rabies and my daughter, her girlfriend and anyone else who possibly came into contact with the angry bat needed to be tested for rabies. They are now waiting for the health department to contact them to schedule the appointment and get tested for rabies.
So, how is your weekend going???
This Life Slog 