The phone call came during our walk through of our new house. It was a message from the Department of Children and Families in Roxbury. We listened together as we drove on Cabot Street toward Salem. “Baby Ian,” the little boy we had planned to adopt this summer, will be having his goal changed to “adoption.” His lawyer wanted DCF to call us.
We were both in disbelief. This door had closed firmly the last Friday in July. We were told clearly, we would not be able to ever adopt this little boy. We had tried working with DCF, we had tried working with our agency, but “Baby Ian” was already placed in Foster Care and the goal was reunification with his mother. We opened our hands and let go.
We have walked through months since his birth, quietly noting his age. We had prayed for him each time we saw day-lilies, the orange flower that had been so prevalent the week he was born. The day-lilies began to fade, and I told myself the ache would as well. In October we were packing up everything to move into our new home. We started with the nursery, a room we had saved, but one that we were not sure that we would ever need. We were both surprised at how real the ache was so many months later. Packing away little clothes he would not wear, a crib we bought for him, it was heart-wrenching. We were not even able to know if he was ok, healthy, where he was . . .
And then this call, because a lawyer remembered our names!
We called back to speak with Laurie. We sat at the ocean in Salem, just before our closings. She was ready to move, to place the little boy in our home, but first we would need to be approved as pre-adoptive parents with the Department of Children and Families, could she come and do a homestudy on Monday? In disbelief and trusting, we said yes.
We have been in a haze of disbelief. Unpacking, painting, preparing. Not understanding, not trusting that by Thanksgiving we would have “Ian” with us. Our heads are telling our hearts to be ready, to prepare and open to all that is ahead. Our shell-shocked hearts are tentative, but stepping forward together . . . into the amazing, miraculous, unknown.