The Battle for Baby O

That Monday, I started my battle to get back Baby O and W.  I felt very slighted that they didn't even call me.  And maybe it was totally rude that I was actively going out of my way to take kids OUT of the home of this foster family.  After all, they had been foster parents as long as I had, but they only had short term respites (weekends, etc.) . They were desperate to adopt.  My understanding was that these boys would, by the track record of their parents non-involvement, be freed for adoption.  How shitty was I to take that away from them...

But I didn't care.

Baby O was MY baby first.  I knew those kids; they knew me, had been to my home, felt comfortable with me.  And The Agency didn't even ask!

All my friend had to do was call The Agency and make it known without a shadow of a doubt that she wanted her girls (plus the baby with all the media attention) back, and they were put back into her custody.  I hoped it would be that easy with the boys.

I was transferred to one of the women in The Agency who did placement.  She said she was unaware that I was interested in getting Baby O back.  This upset me greatly.  Wasn't that The Agency's policy?  To call the original foster parent first?  Sure, I wasn't W's original foster parent, but I was Baby O's.  Why hadn't the case planner indicated that in the files?

I was told me that I had to first prove that I had a bed for the three year old.  She said once I did that, I had to have my strong person verify it.  

(A note on my "strong person."  During training, we were told that each foster parent would have a strong person,who would answer questions and advocate for you.  I'm sure that was the initial intention.  However, much like the case planners, each strong person had a tremendous case load -- I think there were only three strong people for the entire agency -- who couldn't really go to bat for you because their hands were tied.  They could answer the most rudimentary questions, but that was about it.)

 I spent that morning buying a toddler bed and mattress.  I called my strong person and asked her if she wanted to come out and verify that I did indeed have it in my home.  She told me to take a picture of it and send it to her.  I did.

I called back the placement woman before noon.

She told me that the boys were sent to the couple as an emergency respite placement (I knew that wasn't true -- the couple that had the boys were willing to keep them, just not their older brother) and that she would talk to the planning team and let me know.

And so I waited.

Yes, in the meantime I did have Bram and loved him and was happy to have him, but the the truth was, he was really "off the books."  As far as The Agency was concerned, I was an open foster home.  Why wasn't I contacted, dammit?

Eventually, the placement woman did call me back.  She said the team decided to keep the boys where they were because they had been moved so many times.  I understood that.  They had been moved an ungodly number of times.  It wasn't fair to them.  But at the same time, they knew my home.  I wasn't new to them, my house wasn't new to them.  

For once in my life, I decided not to argue.  At least they were with people I knew.