Getting Off the Roller Coaster is a Roller Coaster

The other day we met the adoption worker and shared our intent to adopt baby boy. She left, and I started to grapple with the fact that saying “yes” to forever with him means the state says “no” to us being foster parents any longer. Six forever kids and they slam your door shut.

What will it mean to close our home?
I think of the 10 years.
I think of the 30 kids.
It’s confusing and disorienting and just plain hard.

We’re getting off the roller coaster.

Within a few minutes, I get a desperate hysterical call from one of my former kids’ moms.

“You’re all I have,” she says.
“Please say yes,” she says.
“I’m full,” I say.
“They’ll never place him here,” I say.

The worker calls and takes my info.
“You’re full?” she asks.

“I mean technically, “ I say.
“But we have a bed,” I say.
“We have the space,” I say.
“He’s been here multiple times,” I say.
“I’ve loved him for seven years,” I say.

“I’ll call you back,” she says.
Never does.

Turns out that even getting off the roller coaster is a roller coaster.
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{{Believe it or not, the beautiful boy pictured is not Jax.}}