Maybe we had them, but I honestly have NO memory of having a late start in all my years of public school in Bayonne, New Jersey. For those of you not in the loop, a late start day is when the weather is crap and the roads are crap but they aren't crappy enough to call a snow day. Instead, the superintendent puts faith in the city to plow the roads enough to get the kids to school.
Sometimes late starts mean we come in at 9, sometimes at 10. Sometimes what starts off as a late start turns into a snow day (the very best day of all!)
It was Tuesday and we had a 10 a.m. late start. The roads, apparently, were no bueno, but they would apparently be bueno enough for the buses to get the kids to school.
I was up at my usual 5:45 time, relaxing with Joshua because I had a leisurely four hours to get ready. Bliss.
In retrospect, thank goodness it was a late start, because I was on the phone nonstop from 8 - 10 when classes started.
The first call came at 8. It was the hospital social worker. She had my number from my student and was calling to see if I was a resource that she could pass on to CPS. I said I was. She reiterated the reasons CPS was called and told me that my student TOLD her she wanted the baby to go home with me until she felt she was ready. O M G.
The next call was at 8:30 a.m. It was the CPS worker. He apparently had already been to the hospital to see my student, had gotten my number, and was calling to see if we would take the baby THAT DAY. He said under no circumstances would the baby be going home with mom, and that they were going to investigate the household further and there was a possibility that neither minor mom NOR her 9-year-old sister would be allowed to live there. Would I consider taking them ALONG with the baby?
I explained that I was willing to take the baby, but I did not have the space or the beds for two others.
The next call was from The Agency, confirming that I had space (remember, I still had Joshua who was only 17 months old at the time) for the infant. I said I did. She also reiterated that CPS might remove mom and sister. Would I be willing? I again explained I didn't have beds. She told me she would BUY us beds for the sisters to sleep in. I couldn't even finish the conversation because CPS called again.
In between calls, I was calling Darryl at work telling him all this. I was telling Tiernen too (because guess who would have to watch them while I was at work?)
I don't know how I got dressed and got my makeup on and made it to school by 10.
At 2:45, The Agency told me the baby was in their care and asked what time I could come get her. I explained I was not allowed to leave school until 3 and that it would take me some time to go home, put in the infant car seat, and then drive to The Agency (the roads, by the way, were still crap).
"Okay, well, she's here..." She did not seem pleased that I still had things to do.
I was there by four. She was so tiny, she seemed dwarfed by the infant car seat. She could barely eat an ounce of milk. Even the newborn clothes were way too big for her.
When Darryl came home from work, I presented him with the baby.
There she was, a tiny Asian girl.
"Behold," I said, "a unicorn!"
On Monday, I went back to school. I assumed Student and baby would be discharged that day. I texted her in the morning and told her to text me when she got home and let me know if she needed anything.
I did not hear from her all day, and I assumed she was discharged and settling into at-home mommyhood (which is quite different from in-hospital mommyhood.)
I finally heard from her around 5 or 6. The text just said, "hi, Miss."
I texted back, "how is being home with the baby?"
"I'm still in the hospital."
I immediately panicked. The baby was so little. Maybe something happened. Maybe they couldn't keep her temperature up. Maybe she wasn't eating. Maybe mom was having a problem.
"Is everything okay?" I asked, expecting the worst.
"CPS was here."
I immediately contacted Marianna and we both drove to the hospital. We wanted to know what was going on.
We got there roughly the same time, shocked, confused, nervous.
Here's the story we got:
The NURSES at maternity called CPS because she had fallen asleep with the baby twice in her arms, with the baby dangling precariously over the side of the bed, she would forget the change and feed the baby, etc. They were nervous about sending her home so they called CPS. The CPS worker came in, interviewed her, and said she could not leave with the baby.
I wrote down my information and told her to tell CPS that I was a foster mother and that they could call me if they needed to.
Guess what?
They needed to.
I swear I did everything I could for my very pregnant student. I gave her resources up the wazoo. I had the crochet club make her a layette set. I texted her daily to see if she was okay, if she needed anything. Marianna, a colleague, was going to be her homebound tutor while she was home for maternity leave. We were going to do everything we could to support that family.
During the entire winter break while I was in Pennsylvania visiting my brother, I was panicked that she would have the baby and wouldn't have anyone to support her. It was my understanding that baby daddy was in jail, baby daddy's family wanted nothing to do with her, her own daddy was in jail (and possibly deported), her mom was disabled due to multiple strokes, and that she only had friends to help her.
The baby did not come over break, thankfully. School started back up and she was home waiting for the baby to come.
The weekend after school started again, she texted me to tell me she was in the hospital, her water broke, and that they were keeping her there until she had the baby. I asked her if anyone was there with her (i.e. her mother) and she said her friends were there.
All through the night, she texted me about how much it hurt.
"It hurts, Miss," the texts said, at least once an hour.
I assured her the baby would come soon and she would have her daughter or son in her arms.
I worried all night.
Early that Saturday, she texted me and said the baby had come, a little girl, and that I could come visit if I wanted to.
I immediately went out and bought all sorts of clothes for the baby (newborn sizes because the baby was five pounds). I even met a woman in Carters who said she would DONATE her daughter's clothes from birth to 2T to my student... I just had to pick them up.
I went to the hospital. Student and student's mom were there. Student's mom (age 42 but looking so much older because of the strokes) was tiny and barely spoke, even in her own language. The baby was tiny and cold and needed to stay in a warming bassinette. She was naked so her skin could absorb the heat. Grandma, not understanding, kept putting a blanket on the baby, and the nurse kept coming in and taking it off.
The nurse was very short-tempered with them. I tried to explain that they had limited English (and in Grandma's case, none) and that they didn't understand. My student was exhausted and seemed disinterested in the baby. The nurse yelled at her to feed her, to hold her, to change her. My student just said, "I'm tired and I hurt."
The nurse said, "you are a mom now. It isn't about you. It is about your daughter." She wasn't wrong, but still... this kid was 15 or 16, a little on the slow side, and clueless... It was like watching an 8-year-old put in charge of an infant.
At one point, the grandmother's friends came in. I offered the baby to them to hold, but they laughed at me, "we each have eight children. Why would we want to hold a baby?"
I said I too had a child of my own and a one-year-old at home (they didn't need to know that Joshua was a foster), and I still loved holding the new life. They laughed at me and said I must have a lot of time on my hands and nothing to do if I wanted to hold a baby...
Cultural differences I guess.
(*disclosure: Since I haven't blogged in a million years, I have no memory of whether I wrote about this or not. Excuse me if I'm repeating myself... I swear, it has to do with our next foster baby. Allow me my divergence...)
Way, way back before I started the foster classes, Darryl and I were in love with Baby Aisha, the daughter of two of my students at MVCC. Aisha was a very, very good baby, and on top of that, she had a very exotic look. Her mom is Japanese and her dad is Tanzanian. The product was this creamy-skinned curly haired angel baby. We still love her to bits, even though she moved to Japan with her mom.
When I broached the subject of fostering, Darryl said, "Okay, but I have one request."
I really thought he was going to say, "under no circumstances are we adopting... even if the foster is with us for a long time."
(Sidenote: Darryl made it very clear about ten million times that he did NOT want children ever, ever, ever, even though I begged.)
I was ready for that, even though in my mind, if we had a child in our home for a long time, there was no way he would talk me out of adopting that kid. I figured time would tell. For him to bring it up right from the beginning though was a little scary...
I asked him what the caveat was.
"I want the baby to be just like Aisha," he said.
Now granted Aisha was a VERY good baby. She was friendly and mellow and all-around an easy baby to be around (aka a wonderful foray starter baby into the world of babies for my husband who had been around zero babies in his life.)
I explained that there was no guarantee that any baby, even Aisha's siblings, would be as even-tempered as our little angel baby.
"No," he said, "I want her to LOOK like Aisha."
(Another sidenote: at the time before I took the fostering classes and was just discussing it with the fam, I wanted girls only... obviously, that didn't happen and we changed our minds...)
"Yes," he said, I explained that it was probably easy enough since there were many biracial children (I assumed) in foster care.
"No, I want an ASIAN baby."
Um.
First of all, no one looked at Aisha and said, "wow, there's an Asian baby."
Secondly, I thought that asking for an infant and a girl was being restrictive enough. Limiting it to an ASIAN INFANT FEMALE? Heck, I figured we would never get a baby.
He relented.
Still, I jokingly mentioned the whole Asian baby thing to one of our trainers in foster class. She said that in her time at The Agency, there were NEVER any Asian children in care. Z E R O.
So basically, Darryl was hoping for us to foster a unicorn.
Who would have thought that eventually we would...
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