Verdict

Today was the day we knew was coming.
I've just waited to blog about it until we knew the final outcome.
Baby A will be returning to the Navajo Reservation. Back with members of his biological family. Not mom. Because she tested positive again recently. June 23rd to be exact. Why is that date important? Well, it is our anniversary. Guess what else? It was Baby A's birthday. His second.

We were told in no uncertain terms in July that he had "a slew of family," and that they were working on reunification with . . . someone. Told that they "never" use the terms "severance" and "adoption" with Native children. Told that the tribe has stepped in as late as one day before an adoption is final and taken the child. Told that, because of the color of our skin, we are unfit to be his permanent parents.
When we learned the real truth, we began thinking a little differently. What is best for our own kids. What is best for him is no longer under our control. After this bomb was dropped on our little corner of the world, I knew there was nothing left to fight for, so I better just give in. I began detaching from him, a little at a time, hoping that this will make the transition a bit easier. I started to see him as someone else's son, someone else's responsibility. I saw the visits with his mom as necessary evil, not intrusions on our life. I began worrying what it will be like for Micah, and especially for Hyrum, to lose his "twin." How can I help in the transition? What to do for them?

When words escape a judge's mouth, they're filled with so much more finality, more importance, more weight and meaning. Today, we were told that Grandma will gain custody of the two youngest siblings--Baby A at 26 months, and his sister, Baby D, who will turn one on August 23rd. Baby D, who went straight from the hospital to a loving foster home. Soon. Probably within a few weeks. Definitely within the month. Finality. Did it matter to the court that Grandma tried to kidnap Baby D in December from a visit? No. Did it matter to the court that Grandma is an enabler who stood by and watched her daughter, living under the same roof, deliver THREE drug-positive babies? No. Did it matter that Mom will be right back on the Reservation with them? Or did it even occur to them, as they were busy sweeping these kids from their docket?
The system is SO BROKEN that there is no good solution for this case, and thousands more like it. Just names and birthdates in files in courtrooms across the nation. Nothing works the way it's intended.
What angered me most was Mom's reaction. "Thank you for standing by me and helping me get my kids where they should be." Is she really that naive, that blind? We don't want the kids back with her mom for her--we want permanency for the kids. It was all I could do to not retort something unforgivable.

I can't express how this feels.
I know I did all I could for him these past 11 1/2 months. I know we taught him about love and sharing and schedules and Church and praying and "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam." But will all that really make any difference in the course of his life? Most likely not. He's too young. He'll never remember his four foster brothers with whom he fought as the youngest Jedi. He'll never remember swimming in the pool with his two foster sisters, initially petrified, finally ecstatic. He'll never remember Roxy dog, and making her mad when he dug through her food. He'll never remember baths and Nursery and vacation to Idaho and Utah and seeing Grandpa T's horses. He'll never remember what it's like to love a dad. He'll never have these things back.
But I have to trust in a God who sees all and knows all and knows this little boy and what will happen with him. Who knows our family and what is coming in the next few weeks, months, and years. Even eternity.
And I'll remember. We'll remember.
Angelo. Jell-O. Jello-O Joe.