Meet Isaac

I think I've been avoiding this post. As we are learning to navigate the uncertain and often cloudy waters of the foster care system I find myself very unsure of what I'm allowed to share, what I should keep to myself and what constitutes as "privileged" information. Ultimately I'm a bit weary of hiding our new wee one. If you are a facebook friend, please know you will never see a picture of Isaac on that particular social medium nor will you hear much about him. It's just too public an environment with too little control over who and what sees his information, and until he is officially and legally ours we can't take that risk.

Disclaimer over, on to the story of Isaac's arrival.

Sunday, January 23rd, we received a placement call for a 13-month old little boy which we happily accepted. In consistent fashion, we lost that placement. That was our fourth lost placement in 6 weeks. When I found out we lost it, I laughed. It was getting darkly comical -- our willingness to accept any child presented juxtaposed with our inability to actually get our hands on the little ones. Monday, January 24th, I called our placement coordinator (I'll call her Ms. C)around 930am and asked if we could give a blanket "yes" to all calls that fit our criteria (0-5 yrs old, boy or girl, sibling set ok, any ethnicity). At first Ms. C laughed at me. The more I spoke with her she seemed to understand that I wasn't joking and though she said I could do that I don't think she actually took me seriously. Around 1130 that day Ms. C called back for another placement. This time for a 2 week old little boy. He was still in the hospital, recovering from a rough delivery and was about to be discharged. Of course we accepted placement though I admit I failed to get excited at first because I fully expected to be told no again. Unlike the last 4 calls we received word that we actually got the placement. Ms. C arranged for a pre-placement visit and my sister graciously dropped what she was doing to come stay with our kids so we could go to the NICU.

Then we began to do the NICU shuffle -- a dance with which we are all too familiar. Initially we were told Isaac would come home Tuesday but when we arrived at the NICU I could tell by his progress that it would be longer -- he still had some milestones he had to achieve. Wednesday seemed more likely. Of course Tuesday's visit to the NICU brought news that it might not happen until Friday -- two steps back, all part of the dance.

Sidenote: I can't help but think how amazing God's plan is in all of this. No one wants to go to the NICU. No one. But we've been there 3 times with our bio-kids and like it or not we are pretty good at the dance. We know what to ask and how to ask it. We know when to panic and when to relax. We understand the machine beeps without even looking at the monitors and we have a general idea of what to expect before we walk in the door. And while I don't like going to that place and I hate my babies being there, of all the foster parents to give Isaac to it makes sense to give him to us. We walked in that NICU without the fear and trepidation that most people experience, primarily because it wasn't our first (or second or third) time. It has to be a God thing.

As is typical of the NICU, we received a call Wednesday lunch-time that Isaac would come home Thursday and that the doctors wanted us to care-by-parent. Fortunately my sister is great at emergency babysitting calls and was able to keep the other three at home while we spent the night at the hospital. After a very L.O.N.G day Thursday waiting for CPS to arrive with placement papers, we finally signed and headed home to Katy with Isaac in tow, around 5pm.

So far our transition has been an easy one though I've almost been overwhelmed by all the appointments; I hate being "busy" and being a foster parent is defined by busy-ness. We've had to adjust to fielding questions like, "what is he?" and "what's his story?" and "will you get to keep him?". Most questions are complicated -- either because I can't answer because I don't know or because I'm not allowed to answer. Even seemingly innocuous questions like "Is he healthy?" present a challenge.

So here's what I can tell you. Isaac, as you can see from the pictures below, is African-American. His story is that his mom couldn't take care of herself or him -- and that's why he's in foster care. Remember the foster care system doesn't randomly take children from their biological families or because they can find them homes that are a little better than the originals. He is basically healthy, though we are still watching some potential issues left over from a rough start in life. And that's all I can say about his health. Isaac's case is a complicated one so I can't speak with certainty that we will keep him forever. I hope we do. I know that regardless of where he ends up he will always be my Isaac, he will always be my son. That's really all I can say.

What else do I know? I know Isaac is a beautiful little boy with a head of wildly curly hair that I'm still trying to figure out how to care for. He has velvety soft skin that I'm terrible at remembering to moisturize so he gets ashy. Fortunately his skin rewards me when I remember by being so very soft; it's almost as if its training me. Isaac has the most deliciously chubby cheeks and the skinniest little chicken legs. I know he likes to be held and loves to be swaddled and he hates his carseat, and bouncer and swing. I know he likes to eat and is an amazing sleeper. And I know that our journey together won't be an easy one or a speedy one but it will be completely worth it.

Isaac's beautiful face -- the first time we met him

Luke and Isaac during care-by-parent

Me and Isaac

Swaddled and happy

Taking a little snooze in the chair