Day Break

We said, "Short Term... that's all." We said, "7 days, that's our max!" We said, "Well, you know, 7 to 10 days, but certainly no longer." We said, "We have to have daycare and you can't provide that so we really can't do more than respite or emergency care..."

I said, "Yes, honey, I promise, only a few days at a time." I said, "I know, I know, I get too attached..." I said, "I know, I know, I am too soft hearted and easily guilted!" I said, "This time I'll be tough, it's MY Way or The HighWay!" I said, "I promise..."

It's been 2 straight weeks. 14 days. 14 nights. Nearly double the time frame. Nearly.

Two weeks of brown squishy cheeks under my lips, a two-toothed grin at my voice, a crinkled nose and wide mouth and long eyelashes at my tickles. Two weeks of smooth soft baby under my hands, in my arms, in a safe secure crib, warm in my lap, drooling on my shoulder, laughing at my touch. Two weeks of drenching this baby in love, soaking her spirit with kindness, immersing her mind in color and song and story and playtime and sweetness and tenderness. Two weeks of precious baby being woo'ed and worshipped by our own healthy safe beloved children. Two weeks of my life, my breath, my heart, my soul.

It might be two more.

But November 1st is the cutoff.

Cut off my heart, cut off my breath, cut off my soul... cut off her life.

Where will she be that night? In her auntie's house? Or in yet another foster home - strange and scary and insecure and unsure and frightened. Will she hate us for it? Oh my love, oh my love, oh don't hate me. I've done the best I could... and I have loved you.

Two weeks, plus two weeks, it doesn't equal squat.