Holding steady

No news on the meetings with Child Protective Services and the foster care social workers yesterday. It's hard not having information when that's all I crave right now. I hate not knowing.

I hate not knowing what's going on. I hate not knowing the extent of his injuries. I hate not knowing if we'll even have the opportunity to say "yes" to our Little Man again. I hate not knowing if that's what we'd say if it were a possibility. I hate not knowing. Hate it, hate it, hate it.

All these questions

This morning, Mr. Handsome and I both woke up after sleeping fitfully.
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We agreed to consider considering adopting our son should he become available for adoption. There are so many questions about how much damage has been done to him. The grandma told me it was a borderline torture situation. I'm 45, my husband is about to be 48. Are we able to take on a potentially severely damaged little boy? My husband--the only income earner--works for Chrysler and who knows how long that will be around? Is it fair to our daughter to take on this challenge? I'm sure, if a child were born to us with all these potential complications, we'd love him and raise him to the best of our abilities--but he wasn't born to us. We do have a choice. I don't know if voicing my concerns and hesitency is politically correct or not, but they're mine and they're valid.
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Heck. I'm just getting my own life back again now that BabyGirl is almost 8. I'm on a museum board, I'm working on a book of local architecture, I'm loving being a room mom at her school. Am I nuts to even think about taking this on? Our life is pretty good, the three of us, why would we even think of adding this huge complication? We always said that if we had to parent a screwed up kid, that at least we wanted to be the ones doing the screwing up, not having to clean up someone else's mess. And here's a mighty big mess that needs attention.

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But part of me also thinks that I really don't have a choice, either. He was my little boy for 124 days. What's a mom to do?

The worst came true

Almost four years ago, when we were in court on our last day with AJ, we read a six-page statement to the judge. One small sentence stands out, "We worry about the end-results for AJ if it turns out that she decides [parenting] is too much."

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It was too much. For the last 3+ years, Peggy has been physically abusing my precious and perfect little boy, and only him. After he "fell down the stairs" and had a seizure, he was taken to the ER then sent home a few hours later. A few weeks later, he had another seizure and was taken back to the ER. They got suspicious. Aside from the two bleeding neural hematomas, there was evidence of 7 or 8 rib fractures, an arm fracture, and a pelvis fracture. His little body was covered in bruises. He spent four days in Pediatric ICU during which he slept most of the time. He has delayed speech, is very thin, has a slight limp, and can't walk any great distance.

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Peggy has been charged with child abuse, and all three of her children have been removed from her custody. They are living with, and in the legal custody of their grandmother, for the last three weeks.

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Peggy said that he got the brunt of her anger because she couldn't connect with him. The grandmother had suggested over the years that she return him to us. She adamently refused every suggestion that had anything to do with us.

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The 9-month old's baby-daddy says he wants custody of him, but he has no job, no place to live other than Peggy's, and no means to support a child. The older daughter, who witnessed the abuse now mimics the abuse she saw her mother dole out on AJ and has since become abusive to him.

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"We worry about the end-results for AJ if it turns out that she decides [parenting] is too much."

Sinking heart

A couple times a year, AJ's grandmom and I email each other. No biggie, it's just part of that scab I can't stop picking.

She'd been on my mind and heart lately so I emailed a very generic message: "You've been on my mind, I hope all is well with you and yours."

She wrote back today that she now has custody of my AJ, his older sister, and his less-than-a-year-old brother. She said I should call her.

I'm feeling too much to actually do anything. Of course, my mind immediately goes right to we-can-get-our-son-back, then crashes into the reality of him being 3.75 years and not our son. He's got these two siblings, would I even want to contemplate taking on the 3 of them? Hell, I don't even know what the situation is with them, why they're with their grandmother, or anything. Part of me says to just stop picking that damn scab. What's done is done.

But I can't stop my heart from loving that little boy I rocked to sleep every night for more than 120 nights.

My bff Pam says she doesn't think I should call. Then she said that if I really felt calling was the best thing for me to do, she'd sit with me quiet as a mouse while I did. (How cool is that for a friend?)