It’s hard to sum up what life has been like the last month and a half. The best way is perhaps to explain what happened yesterday.
We had not one, but TWO case workers come over yesterday to do monthly home visits – one for Sprout and one for Cookie. So we deep cleaned because the house had been in crisis mode and was NOT presentable.
Cookie’s room was the worst. It was a DISASTER. My discarded clothing was in a pile on the rocking chair with a sock graveyard on the floor behind it. There were tissues in a circle around the garbage can where I’d aimed and missed. There were boxes on the floor where we’d packed Cookie when we thought he was going home at the last court date but he didn’t and we’d just started living out of them. His clean clothes were sprawled across the boxes, not sorted by size. There were unfolded receiving blankets in the clothing pile too. And there were various shoes belonging to Sprout because she changes her shoes about a dozen times a day and leaves them everywhere. Around the dresser was a haze of spilled formula powder on the floor.
We went in there to tackle it. We started by changing the sheets on the twin bed I’ve been sleeping in, then Cookie’s crib sheet. Then I started sorting clothing. Sometime during the process I realized what I was doing: I was cleaning a depression cave.
Anyone who has dealt with serious depression knows the depression cave. The stuff just piles up because one doesn’t have the energy to clean it. The mess then contributes to the depression. It’s a nasty spiraling down that happens in a depression cave.
Caring for a newborn and all the attendant sleep deprivation and frustration with this little guy’s feeding challenges has made me feel like I’m depressed. I don’t think I need to change meds or anything, I just think I need this little guy to go to his relative.
Speaking of which, there was a court reporting date at the end of December, and the County was supposed to file a report on the relative’s background check and state whether they’d approved the relative to take Cookie. Well, it’s now January 21st, and Cookie is still with us. The relative has been approved. The parents want Cookie to go to the relative. The county wants Cookie to go to the relative. The relative wants him. And WE want Cookie to go to this relative. But somewhere along the line between the County and the court, there’s a holdup. And it looks like the paperwork won’t all get sorted until the next deadline, which is February 9th. That’s the next court date. I’m counting on his going home that date for so many reasons.
It’s HARD to care for a newborn. Even harder when he’s got feeding issues and vomits/spits up half of what he eats and therefore needs to eat really really often. Even harder when it’s not your child and you’re trying not to bond with him because you know he’s going home very soon. I’m struggling.
Seth and I have decided this is our one and only newborn experience. We are both getting too old for this! We are exhausted and our patience is being tested by the demands of the baby. We have the case worker the rest of our newborn size diapers so the County can give them to other foster parents who are taking newborns, because it won’t be us! She asked us “are you sure you don’t want to keep these for other newborns?” Seth and I just burst out laughing and said “NO” emphatically in chorus. Ha!
With the depression cave cleaned and the baby sleeping slightly longer stretches at night, I’ve moved back into Seth’s and my room and am just using a baby monitor. I feel vastly relieved to be in my own comfy bed again. Bless Seth for being willing to listen to the baby monitor going off at night so I can avoid developing a fresh depression cave in the baby’s room again. I feel much more like myself just because I’m sleeping in my own bed!
19 days left. I hope. Then this little guy can start bonding with his new caretaker and settle in with his family. And I can have my life back!
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