Baby Chicken, Part 2

 

    The Agency called exactly three days before we were scheduled to go to New Jersey to celebrate my brother Bobby's wedding.  Bobby had gotten married the month before in Oregon, but to save his New Jersey family the hassle and expense of flying out to Oregon for the wedding and reception, he had an east coast reception in addition.  Considering how difficult it was to get the Agency to approve Rhys and Waverly to leave the state (and just for New Jersey for a weekend), I cannot imagine how difficult it would have been to get them to approve a week on the west coast.

When I got the call, I explained that we were leaving and since I didn't have the permission to take the baby out of state (not to mention the difficulty of taking a baby on a five-hour car ride one way), the Agency agreed that I would take the baby on Monday after we returned.  I was assured there was no rush, since the foster family that had the baby was fine keeping her until Monday.

I figured we would have our weekend and then pick up the baby.  No big deal.

Two hours after I agreed, the Agency called me back and asked if I could pick her up THAT DAY because the current foster family decided that Monday was indeed too far away.  They were closing their home, which means they would no longer be foster parents effective immediately!  The foster children they did have would have to be placed that day.

"But what about our trip?" I asked.

I was assured that the Agency would find respite for her for Friday until Sunday night.  I agreed.

I called Darryl who was picking up the other two kids.  Meet me at the house, I told him.  I had to put the infant car seat in the van, pull out the pack n play from the attic and a million other things.  I hadn't even made room for the new baby!

Because of COVID, we weren't allowed in the Agency, and instead, the case planner met us out in the parking lot.  They had a bag of her things and were carrying her out in her infant car seat.  

We were completely unprepared for "a little on the small side."

Now, remember, we'd seen small babies.  My nephew was under six pounds, and the two Burmese babies we had were both under six pounds when we got them. 

I was not prepared for the tiny, tiny baby that was presented to us.

She was so small, the pacifier in her mouth took up half her face.  Even at the smallest setting, she barely took up a quarter of the car seat.  She looked... uncooked, fetal.  The carseat weighed nothing.  I sat in the back with her, unsure of whether the carseat alone was enough to protect her from the world. I know that sounds dramatic.  She was just TINY, like four pounds tiny.

Darryl drove home under the speed limit.  When I took her out of the carseat once we were home, it was like holding nothing.  Her cry was less than a kitten's mew.  The bottle was too big for her face.  When I changed her diaper, she had so little body fat, that there was no differentiation between her back and her legs.  She was... assless... 

I couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't still in the NICU!

As I held her, Rhys and Waverly moved in close, eager to see this little baby not much bigger than a doll.  

I looked at the kids and said, "what's this?"

Waverly, very maternal even at that age, gasped. 

"Oh Mommy," she said, "it's a baby chicken!"

I didn't think she looked like a baby chicken, but I guess the tiny, tiny baby with limbs like pencils must have looked very different from the baby dolls she was used to.  We all giggled about it, baby chicken, and yet... that's the only thing we called her...

And that is how she got her nickname.