We had court this afternoon. I knew that there was a possibility that T would go home, but I didn’t really think it was a probability. Joshua and I threw clean clothes on our little man and whisked him out the door to the courthouse with little fanfare.
I sat through over 2 hours of waiting and questioning and more waiting, never really worried that he was leaving. Yes, I knew that he was a short termer in our home. He would go home before the summer was over, I was sure, but I wasn’t prepared for today.
The judge came in after her deliberation and declared the case dismissed. T was to go home immediately. No one had ever been in a case like this before. I was in shock.
I walked our boy and his momma out to my car to retrieve his car seat. I helped her get him to her car, and asked if I could hug him goodbye.
His mother was short with me and did not want me around. His case worker barely spoke with me after the trial. I called her to ask questions, but she was too busy to talk. I felt completely alone.
I am no longer significant in T’s life. I am just some woman that used to watch him. Though I have spent the last two months acting as a mother to him, loving him, rocking him, kissing him when he hurt, teaching him to enjoy the water, today I am considered nothing by both his family and the courts.
The Department of Children and Family Services does not understand the ache of loneliness after you send your baby away forever. The courts do not consider the fact that my children would be broken hearted because they did not even get to say goodbye. They were not the ones that would have to wipe away their tears. They ask that I give my heart and my home, but they expect me to feel no emotion when they take a baby away from me.
I am happy that T is home. He has been so lonesome these two months, and I have wanted him to be back with his family. It does not, though, change the difficulty of this sudden and permanent goodbye.
As the feelings of insignificance, loneliness, and powerlessness crowd into my heart, I am reminded of whom I receive my significance. Yes, DHS does not care about our little family’s sacrifice or our tears, but my Father in Heaven does.
Psalm 56:8 “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”
The God of the Universe cares about each tear that I shed. He, the mighty and majestic Maker of the world, cares about my sorrow. I am significant because I am His.