Fear.

The text came through today. The caseworker's words jumped off my phone's screen and went jabbing deep into my core.

"The relatives have completed paperwork and are starting the process. It will be a couple months at least until we know anything for sure but I wanted to let you know."

Furiously I willed back the tears as I looked up from phone into the sea of High School faces waiting for me to continue my English lesson. Somehow I stumbled through, grateful for the first time, of the mask that covered my face so they wouldn't see me biting my lips to hold back the sobs.

Gracie, my sweet, sweet Gracie's future lies in jeopardy.

I'll never forget the day over eight months ago when my son and I walked nervously, eagerly, into the maternity wing of the hospital. The call had come of a 2 day baby girl desperately in need of a loving foster home. Born addicted to meth, with no prenatal care and a history of alcohol and smoking thrown into the mix, her future and health remained unclear but I knew immediately that my only answer was going to be a resounding, "Yes!"

As the nurse ushered us into the room with all the tiny cribs and swaddled newborns, we could hear one infant screaming lustily and angrily. My son looked at me worriedly and I smiled back. No matter what we were about to face, this child would find a safe, nurturing home, I reminded myself. "Here, I've put her into a private room for you around this corner," the nurse said and led us past the screaming infant. Part of me, I'll admit, felt relief.

And then, there she was. A tiny, baby girl wearing a stained onesie and threadbare socks was sleeping so peacefully. She opened her eyes to reveal a lovely shade of blue underneath dark swirls of hair. She was absolutely gorgeous and I fell instantly in love. A feeling of wanting to protect and keep this little one safe from all harm rushed over me. And, I wasn't alone in that feeling as my son, age 12, said breathlessly, "Mom, when we get her home, can you show me how to give her a bottle?"

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of many nights of every four hour feedings and baby snuggles. She was by far the most content baby I have ever cared for even with needing five different formulas before they discovered she was lactose intolerant. And then the pandemic struck, and my school went completely virtual, and suddenly I was stay at home Mama and full-time virtual teacher!

Gracie, as we called her, participated in endless Zoom calls with students and recorded video lessons. She'd drink her bottle during long staff meetings and smile happily at the screen while I tutored Seniors one on one. Once we figured out her formula needs, she quickly made up for lost time and soon reached the 90th percentile on the doctor's chart for height and weight. "Perfectly balanced!" said her pediatrician.

She became the darling of the family, with my sons taking turns giving her a bottle or serenading her with rock and roll guitar concerts to make her giggle and laugh. My sassy, sunshine and rainbows adopted daughter who was five became her biggest fan. Gracie laughed at everything she did so she'd spend hours twirling and dancing to entertain her.

During this blissful time, we were in our own little bubble. Her biological mom had left the state and didn't even bother to use her cell phone for zoom visits. Her biological father was entirely unknown. Even caseworker monthly visits were conducted via zoom so in a way it felt like she really was mine, even tho I tried so hard to remind myself that she wasn't... not fully... not yet.

After more months of happiness, the word adoption started coming out more and more in talks with her caseworker. Parental rights' by all acounts, would most likely be terminated soon on grounds of abandonment. The agency sounded excited when they knew I was open, eager, and willing to adopt this precious baby girl and add her to my forever family.

And then, the bottom dropped out. A long distant relative had come forward. Second cousin of the grandfather expressed interest. Never mind that they hadn't been involved in her entire life. Never mind that Gracie has only known one loving home. Never mind that the trauma of separating her from not just the woman she calls, "Mama", but every other family member she has ever known, would most likely cause life-long damage. They must be sent paperwork and given consideration because they are biologically linked (however distant that link might be)...

And so I sit here tonight, in the quiet and let the feelings come. The children are all asleep, Gracie tucked into her crib, dreaming peacefully unknowing all the currents that swirl around her future.

All alone here in the silence and the quiet, I know. And I feel.

Tomorrow I will rise again. I will change her and feed her and coo and make her laugh. I will snuggle her and rock her as she gets sleepy and laugh at her "Mmm" sounds while eating a new flavor of baby food. I will clap and praise her as she pushes and tries so hard to start that baby crawl. I will sing and dance with her around the kitchen. I will read her a story and help her pet kitty cat. I will practice sounds with her and chatter away so she learns new words. I will love, praise, care, and provide for her. I will be her Mama, every moment of every day, that God gives me and the pain that comes and goes in waves will make each moment that much more precious.

For I am now, and will always be, her foster Mama.