Nothing about this placement was normal. (This is apparently how we roll- not normal.) We first met our little guy on December 29th. He was still in the Special Care Nursery with a group of nurses who were sure he had hung the moon. I learned very quickly why. After my second night with him, I told The Hubs, "I'm smitten." We stayed every other night in the hospital with him for three weeks before he was able to come home. The big boys weren't allowed at the hospital, so they made due with pictures until he made it to the house. He arrived last Monday and left today to go live with family.
I wasn't sure how I would react when a child left our home. People say all the time, "I could never do foster care because I would get too attached and then wouldn't be able to let them go." The snarky part of me always answers back (in my head, of course), "Oh no! That's the easy part! You know, just love them and make them part of your family and then let someone else decide when it's time for them to leave and they're gone. No big deal!" But I don't say that. How could I? I had never had one leave before. But now I have, and I know firsthand that the above snarky statement is accurate. Just because something is hard doesn't mean it's not right.
But I can also say I've never been more certain that this path leads us to a gospel centered life. To love and be uncomfortable and then do it again. To turn our day-to-day upside down and live in the tension of not knowing. To teach our kids that we can help so we will. To watch them embrace and be so tender with a new brother. To hear them say, "Let's help another baby!" To have the chance to speak the name of Jesus to several people we didn't know before. We've been talking about Gospel risk at our church, and this month has felt risky. In so many ways.
So while I'm sad he left so soon, thankful for family who wants him, frustrated with the system, and tired from figuring out three-on-one parenting, I'm glad that we are on this journey.
