My anxiety is awful tonight. Over thinking. Emotions everywhere. I didn’t think it would be THIS hard to welcome a new baby girl into my life. Where to even begin?
I’ve been silently contemplating for months if I’d have the capacity to say yes to a newborn baby. Could I do it? Did I even want to do it? Birth Mom is incarcerated and also the birth mom to my best friends two children - 7 & 9. I’d decided I’d only take placement if CPS was involved. That would make it easier, right?
Then I learned she was giving this newborn to her mom/sister on the reservation. Who all live together in a small house with 11 kids. A mom who is often drunk. Last time birth mom went to visit they had bed bugs. (That was ages ago, but still.) Somewhere that isn’t even safe for her older children to visit. Yet, it’s just “normal” there. CPS doesn’t get called as the basic needs are met. Basic. Needs. Why would she even consider this? Why? Well, because she has no other option. Nobody to ask. No support. This is how she’s ended up where she is. Generational trauma. So many issues. And here we are just going to stick another baby into it.
She won’t consider adoption. She thinks she can do better for this baby. Currently, she’s waiting for a bed in PreRelease to open up. Then she’ll spend 6 months there. Then she’ll be moved to Family Sober Living to have her baby with her. Every baby is a new chance and yes, CPS will do the same of they were involved. So she’ll likely have 3-6 months after the baby is born before she can have her with her.
How could we just let this innocent baby go be exposed to trauma from day one and less than amazing living conditions? My friend decided she had to figure out a way to keep the baby. Issue was - how does she let the baby move in with her and then give the baby back but not the older two kids? How is it safe for the baby but not them? So, after some thought and already praying for the last few months I volunteered. At least with me, the logic can be B can only handle one child and they’ve lived in their home for so long they’ll stay there until they graduate. It’ll still be hard and unfair to them but not as unfair as the baby living there and then leaving. They also know my house is for little kids that just need extra love for a little while. They’ve watched me foster numerous children. It’s what kids do here. They come for a little while. So there will be no connection thinking the baby will stay forever.
B jumped on this offer and said absolutely. She then said she would work on guardianship papers. I don’t want guardianship. I don’t want to keep her baby forever. I’m only doing this until she’s in safe housing that accepts the baby too. Just medical POA and a birth certificate. I know from past history that’s all I need for the first few months. So she’s going to work with the holding centers social worker to get this going.
I told my therapist I said yes today and am going to take baby. Her response - I’ve known since the day we found out about the baby you’d be taking her. Seriously? Yes, you care and can do it. I didn’t have a doubt you wouldn’t end up with her. She’s also my best friends therapist and has watched up front and center the chaos of B and all the reasons she can’t take the baby.
So, yeah, we’re having a baby. She’s due 2/28/26. Yes, I’m going to break my own heart when I have to give her back but it’ll be fine. It’s not my first time and probably not my last time. I’ll fully support B in reunification and getting on her two feet. I pray she can do it. If she can’t? We will cross that bridge when we get there. As she has c-sections it’ll likely be the week before.
I gave in and bought some clearance baby clothes. Nothing too fancy but I’m going to need clothes. Diapers. The basics. Ever since then my anxiety has been out of control. What happens if I buy this stuff and something happens to the baby? Yes, that’s my intrusive thought. That I can’t shop just incase the baby doesn’t make it here. I have zero doubts these thoughts go back to my own loss. I keep reminding myself it’s fine. She’s 30 weeks pregnant and the baby is as healthy as can be given the trauma and early exposure in utero. The baby has nowhere else to go. She IS coming here and she’ll be alive and healthy. Yet, it’s like my brain went back to my loss and my fear every day I’d lose her, just for it to happen. I hate triggering moments. Sigh.
So, I have been trying to power through all night. I rearranged the spare room to make room for the baby’s bed. Cleaned out the closet to make room for the clothes I ordered. Then I vaguely remembered the tote with Annabelle’s stuff. It’s just sitting there. Collecting dust. So I dug it out. Expecting to find a couple outfits. I was sure I’d given away all the clothes I had bought for her. Instead I was greeted by every fancy, adorable outfit I’d ever bought her. So many outfits. A ton of summer 3-6 months. Quite a few 0-3.
Holding back tears I hung them all up in the closet. Vaguely remembering sobbing and shoving them all in a tote in a fit of rage the night I found out we lost Annabelle. Max must have put the tote away so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. Now that I’m typing there was a beautiful blanket I had crocheted. So, that means there must be a second tote even. My gosh. I’m going to use these clothes for the baby. Why not? They are doing no good. They just make me emotional. My baby was supposed to wear them. She’d have been perfect. My friend simply said - This was all meant to be.
So, it makes me sad. Yet happy. Does that make sense? Ugh.
Needless to say she’s set for fancy clothes. Now I just need the basics - sleepers, onesies, socks, diapers, wipes, a carseat. Maybe some basic outfits. My friend already started shopping and is willing to pay for the majority of it. So, it’ll all be fine.
I just need to get over this feeling that something bad is going to happen. Maybe push away thoughts of the baby entirely until like February when it’s almost time. I really didn’t realize how unaddressed my own loss was.
It’s going to be fine. I’m insanely going to have a beautiful baby girl in just 9 weeks. That’s crazy.
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