Foggy Day... Sunny Day!

It was Friday, and the new baby had his first doctor's appointment.  It was unseasonably warm for January in Maine (or anywhere in the Northeast, for that matter!)  All the snow that had fallen wasn't bothering melting; it was going straight to gas in the hot sun (be proud of me, science friends:  I remember that it is called "sublimation!")  As a result, everything outside was foggy, foggy, foggy.

Kat and her husband busied themselves with the preparations for their baby's first outing and I figured I would scroll Facebook and otherwise waste time until they got home.  

And then the phone rang.  It was The Agency.

"Rebecca? The court decided to put the baby into care.  He's actually in our office now.  Can you come pick him up?"

"I... I'm in Maine!"

"Oh.  Is your husband or daughter home?"

They were.  Arrangements were made for Darryl and Tiernen to drive to The Agency within the hour to pick him up.

When you are a foster parent, they give you the smallest nugget of information about the child.  I was told his birthday, how old he was, that he had two older brothers, but they were both in their grandmother's care.  I was told nothing about his parents or why he was put into care.  I asked his name.

"Ibraham."  

Oh!  

I asked if he was African since I had several African Muslim students with that name.  

"Uh, no.  He's not."  She gave me the baby's last name, Americanized.

"Oh, he's BOSNIAN!" I exclaimed!  After years of teaching in Utica with hundreds of Bosnia students, I had learned a few things about pronunciation (even though I still regularly butchered their last names).

I explained to Kat and her husband that I had to get home.  I quickly packed my things and kissed them all goodbye and started my drive back to New York to meet my  new foster son.

The roads were terrible.  Normally, it takes me about six hours to get from my house to Kat's when the weather is good, and I figured since it was so warm, it would be smooth sailing the entire way.  I would be there by 6 PM at the latest.

I was wrong.  The fog was so bad that I couldn't see six feet in front of me.  People were driving way, way, way below the speed limit (even in Massachusetts, and I don't think a single one of them even knows there is such a thing as a speed limit).

Darryl called me and told me that he and Tiernen were at The Agency and had picked up the baby.  "He has a LOT of stuff, hon," he told me.  Apparently. his mom had the presence of mind to realize that her child was going somewhere else for a while and needed supplies.  There were clothes and toys and blankets and a car seat.  I was very thankful.

I asked Darryl to send me a quick picture.    He did.  I was instantly in love!