There are no words to explain the anguish we felt when given that 30 day notice. My almost-always calm and passive husband was angry and firm on the phone with the social worker- trying to get him to see the absurdity of it, the insanity of the judge. How could this couple who hadn’t followed the plan get her back in thirty days? We knew reunification was the goal- but that goal had to be met a certain way, or else the entire system’s goals were pointless.
When you think about maybe “losing” your child to reunification, you picture it tearing your heart apart, but you picture yourself being slain due to a greater good. The right thing has happened- the sacrifice made so that people can get well and do well and be well.
This was not that. This was a system failing, a judge preposterous, a social worker disconnected. Everything felt pointless, tainted, lost.
My husband argued the social worker for a while, but no headway was made, and we were given clear instructions about where to meet that Friday so they could have her for the day.
My husband got off the phone, drove to work, and I drove to a friend’s house where I was taking a shift watching my friend’s kids as she was in the hospital having her new baby. It was another time of feeling like God was rubbing salt in wounds. I sobbed, slammed the steering wheel, and told God: “I have to see You. I have to see You!”
I try not to normally boss God around like that. But I look back and know it was true: I had to see Him. So much of our journey came to a head with this, and this, this tragic ending to fostering her and her going back to them when they didn’t complete one step of the plan, would break me. This was a point of near despair for me. And I wasn’t angry when I told Him I had to see Him, had to see His hand- I was desperately telling the absolute truth.
I just remember that day crying relentless tears, and being overwhelmed with what seemed like unending confused thoughts and deep heartache.
Friday came. My husband took her, met them with the social worker to transfer her for the day. God gave him great peace and strength- something he still talks about and credits to the Almighty. The social worker seemed surprised- relieved- at the calm, dignified transition.
I kept praying all day.
They were only supposed to have her in a public place, not at home, but of course when we got her back we found out they took her home. Again, more logging and record keeping and emails to the lawyer.
Her separation anxiety was strong.
We were set again for the next Friday to be the same visit plan, and then weekends after that. Leading to the end of those 30 days when we’d transfer her over for the last time.
But God.
I still don’t understand how they even got that one day with her. Was the judge inane? The social worker misrepresenting? The bio parents deceptive? It seems all of these played a part. But whatever the perplexing reason was, God hijacked the painful situation to show us what He can do.
We received word the next week, before that Friday’s day visit, that the visits would go back to be supervised 90-minute visits at the D.S.S. center where they used to be.
Complete. and utter. relief.
I cannot even tell you how I felt when I saw the message- but I think it must have felt similar to when God stopped Abraham’s hand and showed him the ram in the thicket.
Questions abounded- why? how? Was it due to them taking them to their house instead of staying in a public place? The answer came back to that question: no. It had nothing to do with them taking her home (sounds like that was pretty common and not-taken-seriously. Insert groan here.). Then why? Why did the daytime unsupervised visits get pulled and put back to what they had been? The 30 day reunification plan was off- but why?
The social worker’s lips were sealed. And it was awhile later that we found out from another worker on the case what happened. An anonymous person had called D.S.S. to report the bio mom’s continued drug use when having children in her care- but this was not our city’s D.S.S.. It was another county’s. And our D.S.S. “should” have never found out about it. It had nothing to do with their child in foster care. It had nothing to do with our county.
But it had everything to do with God.
The lawyer was stunned. Social workers shocked. How could they have found out about this? How did this information get into the right hands? Who even was the original anonymous caller? Everyone known in their circles was on board with their habits and choices.
The word got used. Miracle.
And it’s stunning, that someone would even call, and that somehow that call about another child in another county made it with the right documentation to the right hands to the right people in our county.
No one could explain it.
And I know it was all God, all of His fingerprints covering that from beginning to end, and I even wonder at the beginning if He didn’t send an angel messenger to make that initial phone call.
Doubtless, He protected her and showed off His glorious power to be able to do so in a way that revealed it was supernatural.
And so, He let me see Him. Answered that desperate, broken steering-wheel pounding prayer. And gave me Himself.
We can’t always see Him working.
What a gift when we can.
Back to the supervised visits, back to the logging and documenting and waiting for late arrivals or no shows. Back to going through security and sitting without her in that room that said “Parenthood requires love not DNA” while they took her to her parents.
We knew the chances for reunification were greatly reduced. The bio mom had been caught in various approaches of deception of her claimed progress. We were told that once a biological parent messes up the opportunity of unsupervised visits, it’s very hard to get the chance back. We cringed knowing she had had that day with them. But felt more reassured that the system would protect her better now.
But that wouldn’t be necessary.
And I’m still so thankful that I cried when I found out, that my heart experienced brokenness and true grief when they told me.
When they came back to that room and pulled me out and whispered it.
“The bio mom passed away.”