Babyless

Darryl asked me if I wanted to go out to eat (we hadn't had dinner yet), but I told him I just wanted to go home.  The ten minute drive home felt like ten hours.  I stared out the window and willed myself not to cry.

It wasn't just that we had to give up Baby O (we weren't foster-to-adopt and we knew that eventually he would leave) but we certainly were not prepared for him to leave so quickly, certainly not to go to another foster family.  But most of all, I was disturbed by the callousness of how The Agency handled it, like it wasn't a baby we were turning over, like we weren't people with emotions.  

I tried to rationalize it:  maybe the case planner had been in the business for a long time and this was just one of countless children that she had witnessed go from one family to another.  Perhaps she had had a bad day.  It was near closing time; maybe she too wanted to get home to her own family.  

Still, it just seemed so... impersonal.

When we got home, I told Darryl and Tiernen that I was going to bed and to please fend for themselves for dinner.  I also asked them to de-baby the house.  I wanted them to take the baby toys and bottles and clothes and anything baby related and removed them from the downstairs.  I wanted the car seat out of my car.  I wanted the crib linens stripped and washed and put away.  I wanted the baby bathtub and toys and baby shampoo out the bathroom.  I wanted the nursery door shut so I wouldn't have to look at it.  They said they would.

If I were a drinker, I probably would have gotten drunk.  I couldn't bear to see the Pack n Play in my bedroom.  I pushed it out in the hallway and asked Darryl to please put it in the attic.

I didn't even have the energy to take a bath.  I felt numb.  I put on my pajamas and climbed into bed.  It wasn't even 5:30 PM.  I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.  More than once, I woke up, thinking I heard the baby cry.  I had never been more disappointed to be undisturbed.