6 Months

 February 22, 2017.

The phone rang around 2:45pm. It was our foster agency.

"Hi Jeanne. I have a two year old boy who might be coming into care this afternoon."

The silence was deafening. I knew she was waiting for an answer but my head was spinning. This was our ninth call but for some reason it felt like the first.

I asked a few more questions to which she replied,

"Jeanne, all we know is that he is a Caucasian 2 year old boy. What do you think?"

I texted Paul as fast as I could while trying to keep her on the line. He beeped in, I popped over and said,

"Paul, she's on the other line! I need an answer! Two year old boy, nothing else. What do you think?"

"That's fine!", he said.

I was shocked. He was set on babies but for some reason he said yes. I clicked back over and said,

"Yes! We'll do it."

She said, "Okay, if he comes into care, I'll call you."

And then I waited. I had waited for many hours on previous calls so I had learned not to get pumped up or start anticipating anything. So far we were 0/8.

The phone rang at 3:45pm. I expected to hear her say, "He isn't coming into care! Thank you so much! Talk to you next time!" But she didn't say that.

She said, "Hi Jeanne. When can you get here? He is on the way to social services now."

Stupidly, I said, "Wait, WHAT!? So, he came into care?"

"Yes. His name is [Little Dude]"

"Oh, okay. Well, Paul isn't home and I have six kids at the house right now. Let me make some calls."

I proceeded to call every person I had ever met in Charlottesville, ZERO of which picked up the phone. Z-E-R-O. Panicking, I called Paul and he told me to load everybody up, including the neighbor who was playing at our house, and head for social services. He was 45 minutes out, he would meet me there and we would switch cars. Okay. I can do this. I calmly gathered the kids, sat them down and said,

"Okay, so, here's the deal. There is a 2 year old boy who needs a home, we are going to go pick him up. I need everybody to get your shoes and get in the car, please. We will talk in the car."

In true Mary-Grace fashion, she exclaimed, "A FOSTER KID! WE'RE GETTING A FOSTER KID!!!"

"Yes, Mary-Grace, get in the car!"

I quickly tried to remember what they had taught me in my classes. I gathered snacks, a sippy cup, and a book. As I did this, one by one, the kids brought me a stuffed animal, a toy car, a book, etc. Kids, they get it. Off we went.

On my way, we said a prayer for little dude, his family, and us, I answered a few more questions from the kids, went over the plan for meeting up with Paul, and some etiquette for not overwhelming the poor child when he met all five of them.

Then I called my mom. She and my dad did their best to calm me (and themselves) and wished me luck.

After finally meeting up with Paul, switching vehicles, and one carseat, I walked into social services. I had no clue what to expect. Honestly, it was an experience I will never forget. So many adults crowded around the belongings of a baby. Everybody awkwardly smiled at me. I spoke to a couple of social workers/case managers, signed a lot of paperwork, and then they said,

"Okay, that's all! Do you have any questions? He's right across the hall!"

That's when it happened. I opened the door to the playroom and there he was, our little dude, absolutely adorable, smiling, and laughing as he zoomed his cars on the table. I walked closer and squatted down.

"Hi buddy! Do you want to go play at my house?"

I put my hands out and he came right to me. That was it. We walked out. That's where our story began. It was 5:45pm and I was walking down the sidewalk holding a toddler who felt very foreign but yet he was trusting me to love and protect him for as long as necessary.

That night was full of a lot of smiles, a lot of toys, and a lot of nervous excitement. We had no idea what was to come. We had no idea what his past contained or what his future held. We just smiled, played, and decided to worry about that tomorrow.

6 months. 6 months ago, tonight. Only God knows the outcome of his story, but for now, I am ever grateful to be a mom of six.

51Georg-Anne Duval, Erica Meyers Shortridge and 49 others

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