We now return to our regularly scheduled program, already in progress

Where to begin? After so many months of thinking about nothing but fertility and conception, after deciding to take a break from focusing on potential motherhood, I find myself surrounded again by the possibility of merging my life with the life of a child. This time the child has already been conceived, carried, and born, but his family has severely neglected its duty as steward and protector of this small boy named Corey. He has been put in the proverbial corner and told to stay there until further notice. I’m hoping that “further notice” will occur any day now, in the form of a new home and a new family—mine.I never pictured myself in this position. I openly denied the possibility that I would ever mother a foster child, or adopt a non-infant, but when I got the call just before Thanksgiving that Corey existed, that he was unloved and uncared for, that there might exist a way for him to become my charge, something moved inside of me. Something shifted. I said yes almost without thinking, because thought seemed unnecessary. I was being driven by a force greater than thought. Now, of course, my thoughts are active participants, and they are much consumed by Corey and by the events that unfold and recede and unfold again every day.Some background:

Mid November: Gayle’s friend J. told Gayle about her nephew Corey and her desire for him to have a better life. Knowing my desire to parent, she asked Gayle if I’d be interested in taking him. Gayle called me, and I said yes.

Corey’s mother is 16; his father is 20. His mother is now an addict, and his father is married, father to another child and one on the way, and has no job and no permanent residence. Corey lives with his father, where he is neglected and ignored. During the Thanksgiving holiday J., who is actually Corey’s father’s aunt, discussed Corey with his father and step-mother and told them someone was interested in taking him and giving him a home. After a few days of “thinking about it” the father said, “no, thanks.” J. suspects that declined because he probably receives aid thanks to Corey’s existence

Early December: In the next few weeks J. called DSS and an investigation was launched.

Late December: The weekend after Christmas, J. was contacted by the caseworker and was told that her investigation was complete and her report would be submitted to her supervisor. She seemed confident that the case would be accepted; all that would remain, then, was a court date and reappointment of custody.

Early January: J. received a letter from DSS explaining that investigations resulted in one of two conclusions: abuse and neglect. Corey’s situation is neglect, and in cases of neglect DSS attempts remediation in an attempt to keep the child with his birth family. J. plans to further challenge the situation.

Last week I was convinced that it would be a matter of days before this child came “home” to me; now I wonder if it will ever happen. J. and Gayle seem convinced, but I don’t know what to think. I am in a strange place, encountering strange emotions and sensations. It’s as if my skin has been supercharged and every emotion floating around the universe comes right in, invited or not. My chest feels like it has been opened, split down the middle, and my heart is exposed, and oddly enough, most of what’s passing through is light. On my drive to work I am awed by the simplest scenes—three dogs frolicking in a field, a wall of creamy gray clouds against a solid blue sky—and I am filled with something whose identity I can only speculate about: hope, anticipation, vulnerability? There is not a moment at which I don’t feel that something big is about to happen; it’s almost like I can sense the nearness of change in the air.

I won’t dare deny that my mood changes by the hour, from great joy to despair and back again. There is no in-between—I am pushing both ends of the gauge. I know this makes me sound crazy, but I don’t feel crazy or out of control. I feel alive and open. I haven’t felt this way in a while. I’m not sure what to do with myself. I think about meditation, but what to focus on? I think about prayer, but what to ask for? I settle for breathing, and with every breath there is a flutter in my heart—a literal flutter. I know I’m on the verge of something, but I don’t know what. I am in the midst of my life’s most daunting challenge: waiting. I do not wait well, but I might as well wait. Good things may come.