Thoughts with Koko 9/25/19

They say life in foster care can change dramatically with one text, one call, one minute of a lifetime. I guess that is true with life in the real world too. It just feels like, because of the life we choose to live, this happens more often. 

Two days ago, I got the call I never saw coming. I answered the phone to my support worker that I know well. We talk frequently and she is in my home most of all the workers we have. I have some communication with her usually 2-3 times a week on a normal week. We have a joking friendly relationship. I answered the phone and was probably sarcastic about something. She had a very serious tone and said that she had to tell us something that she didn’t want to, but she had to. 

She said that there had been a drastic change in one of our cases and it was an unprecedented act by the agency. I immediately was so afraid. My mind went directly to the sleeping newborn in my arms. “What is it about pup? Is he leaving?” My worker and friend took a deep breath and said it was even worse. She told me that there had been an order that would remove Little Man from our home immediately and permanently. 

My heart dropped. My chest tightened. I immediately  dropped the phone as I lost every ounce of breath in my body. I lost all control and reacted how I would expect any mother would. Ryan was working from home and I am grateful that I was not alone in that moment. I ran up the stairs and literally threw the phone at him as I tried to get the words out of my mouth..”they are taking little man.” 

I still had pup in my arms and brought him to the next room and laid him down. I still was having a hard time breathing. Ryan hung up with the phone so we could collect ourselves. We were told the entire situation. As foster parents, you hear all of the stories how sometimes kids are picked up from school or daycare with no notice and the foster family never sees the children again. Both of our minds instantly went to that dark place and Ryan ran out of the house to go find our sweet little boy. I called the next most important man in my life whom I always call in times of distress. My dad. Later he would tell me that he understood very little of the call. I couldn’t fathom what was happening. Ryan came back in carrying little man a few minutes later and my heart was happy for a short minute. We embraced him and each other as we tried to understand.  In that moment, I never wanted to let go.

My support worker called me back and she had to repeat everything again. We quickly made a game plan about what our next move was….who to call, how to advocate, what to do. Within minutes we jumped into action. I believe I was on the phone for the next 6-7 hours trying to unfold the mess before us. 

Nearly three months ago, little man’s parents lost their parental rights. When no appeal was filed, he was listed as available for adoption that day. About three weeks after that, a supervisor called and asked if we were able, ready, and willing to adopt him and make him our son. I happily said yes, and took a deep breath. 

Over the next two months, his case sat and sat. I was given very silly reasons as to why this was, but attempted to stay professional and patient. His case has been assigned to an adoption worker for nearly three weeks. I still don’t understand why it was delayed. I regret that in an attempt to remain professional I was not more persistent. 

Of course I can’t share what happened. I can share that it has nothing to do with little man at all. He is still up for adoption in the state of Iowa. What I can share is that the multiple assurances and promises of his adoption to us was a “mistake”. 

Ryan and I had an extremely emotional two days as this was sorted out. I can share that little man is in our home tonight and we have been told there are no plans to remove him. I don’t trust anyone. He is in a broken and corrupt system. I have said so many times that nothing is ever certain in this life. I was not completely comfortable on Sunday, but I was able to plan for the future with hope and peace. Because of Monday, I will be on pins and needles until the gavel drops if it is ever going to. Words mean very little to me at this point. 

There are people advocating in big ways for this child. There are still people who are fighting for him.While hope took a large hit, it still exists. I have to cling to that. 

My little man has been with our family since he was 8 days old. He has had very little interaction with birth family and most of that was in the first 6 weeks of his life. He has been hospitalized three times in his 11 months and our village is the only ones that showed up for him. We began to learn sign language when he was just a little one, because he wasn’t passing hearing tests. We have witnessed him learn to roll, his first smile, his first Christmas, the first time he crawled, the first time he pulled up, and everything in between. We have held him all night when he is sick. He calls us “mama and dada” now and yells for me from his crib if he wakes up at night. We have witnessed every single milestone of his life other than birth. We have been assured and promised multiple times even in writing yet all that changed in one instant. 

I pray with all my being that I celebrate his first birthday with him in a few weeks. I pray that I witness his first step. I pray and beg that he becomes my son. I pray that our story doesn’t have an ending. I pray the extremely selfish prayer that he achieve permanency and we are part of that story. 

My body is wearing down. My anxiety levels are high. I have cried a bucket of tears. I feel helpless. All we can do is pray boldly for the endurance and victory of  those who are left fighting for him. However, Jesus still wins. He is still good. I still believe that he will show up.

I urge that for all of our village that is reading this to not be angry. I ask that you keep the hope alive, even if it is small. I urge you to join me and fight for him through prayer. Even though it feels meaningless, that is the only thing that will help him achieve what is guaranteed to him by law. I unashamedly ask that you pray boldly that we are given the real green light to officially and legally make him a Murphy as we are the only family he has ever known. Please join this crusade for my family. For a little boy who has no idea what is happening. 

I know that we chose this life. I know many of you are thinking and saying to yourself that this isn’t worth it. I don’t know what else to say other than I can’t wait for you to be able to look into his big blue and amazingly beautiful eyes. I can’t wait for your heart to be warmed by his smile. He is more than worth it. 

Just because we chose this life, doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to be overwhelmed by it and I am thankful for a village and community who has shared with us in our fears and nearly our worst nightmare.

Thank you to our village who continues to love and support our little family as we fight to stay together. 

With a hurt heart, 

Koko