When CPS Took My Son Away

Well, OK he wasn’t “MY” son yet. But all the unwritten laws said he would be.

The transfer process from the very first meeting of our little boy to having him join us permanently was somewhat abnormal (based on what we’d been told to expect). We should have had a couple of visits to get to know each other before the final move-in: A playdate here, sleepover there, etc. But we ended up having him live with us after our second meeting. Ever.

Ready, set, parent!

Except…. he still had one scheduled return to his former caretakers (to say goodbye/tie up loose ends).

He had lived with us for a week already, and in that time he had become ours. Ours beyond all logic or length of time for a more proper relationship to become established. Or… for the foster parent documents to even be signed!

And then he had to leave. Abruptly.

Since some things had slipped through the cracks a bit… our boy now needed to be returned to his former foster home. Today. 

“Today” sucked.

The social workers were supposed to arrive at 2pm. My spouse was coming home from work early to make sure he got to say goodbye. And then they showed up, 2 hours early.

Shit, shit, shit! My son was in panic/shut-down mode. The social workers took his things and waited expectantly in the foyer… like “hurry up, Ma’am, we have other things to do today.”

My spouse wasn’t even home yet. He wouldn’t get to hold his son that one last time. We had no idea when he would return to us. We knew almost nothing. Except… he was “ours” now. Not theirs.

 I hugged my baby and told him I would see him again soon and to be good, etc. etc. More of a lecture than love, especially with my favorite people as an audience (not). I called my spouse hoping a phone “goodbye” would be sufficient (nope).

I packed a secret love note and snacks for the road. Our child looked brave. Steeled and cold.

Then, there was nothing else I could do. It was time for him to go. (Don’t cry, Mama. Hold. It. Together.)

Is this normal?

Who does this with a kid they’ve just met? Irrational me, I suppose.

Actually, I recently asked fellow foster-adoptive parents to share with me three words that describe the day that their child left their home. (To clarify, this meant children of whatever status and leaving for whatever purpose – disruption/transfer, reunification, adoption, etc.).

Here are some of the answers I received:

• Please be safe.
• Saddest day ever.
• Always my baby.
• Test of faith.
• Hole in heart.
• Piece of me.
• They’ll be back.
• God protect them.
• Broken beyond words.

For me, it would be “life changing loss.”

The life, the giggles, the cuddles and “Hi-Ya” ninja kicks would be gone (for a time).

Oh, the silence in my home… From the moment the door closed and for the long days to come… the silence would be heavy.

And my spouse?

Oh, God.

He didn’t get to say goodbye. No hugs. Nothing.

And then the phone rang…

I didn’t realize that the hardest moment of the day would actually come after the departure. The social worker handed the phone to a hyperventilating child, crying in the background. He finally broke.

My baby. Shattered.

“Mommy?” He cried.  I cried.  I broke too.

“Baby, Mommy loves you. And I miss you. It’ll be OK. I’ll see you again soon, don’t worry. We’ll be right here waiting for you.” I rambled on and on while he just sobbed and made some “uh-huh” sounds.

This was not really “goodbye,” but this moment would define us forever.

---

The author writes from an unabashed, had-it-up-to-here, daily defeated and re-strengthened by grace and hope… kind of place. An adoptive mother of a curious kiddo, full of spirit and sass, tells her tales of homeschooling, fostering, and raising children with special needs. Thanks for joining us on this adventure from adoption to life!

Original post: Nov. 2016

To stay up to date on new stories being published, be sure to subscribe to @AdoptionToLife on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter.