Memory

i don't remember exactly when carl stopped being my child.
It was a slow process that started well before he left my home and continued for years.
I remember exactly when it started.
In december, his mother asked to have him on christmas day. I haven't always been such a kind and understanding person as i am today, so i told the worker quite plainly "No. I will not be traveling on Christmas day. We have plans with my family."
At the time, i felt that my response was appropriate.
His mother was crushed. She asked the worker what could be done so she could see her child on christmas. It was a very important holiday for her. The worker offered that Carl be able to have an (up until then, totally not allowed) overnight visit where he would stay with her for 3 days and 2 nights freeing me from traveling on christmas day and allowing Her to have him for the holiday.
I was utterly crushed. I went in to see the worker. I cried to her. I complained to her. I expressed concern and worry about Carl being placed in that situation, unsupervised, for days.
She calmly asked me "Leslie, do you not understand that Carl will be going back to his mother?"
and that moment was the very first time i ever truely considered losing him. I had never even entertained the idea of Carl returning to his mother. It was in my mind that she just would not meet state requirements, the courts would Terminate parental rights, and we would adopt him. I never considered reunification as truely part of the realistic picture.
That day, sitting in the DHR offices, with my face tear streaked and my heart broken, Carl started to become his mother's son. It hurt. It was difficult and painful and what was worse was i felt like i shouldn't even be feeling how i was feeling.
Month by month, she continued to steal my child from me. At the 1 year court date, When i expected the judge to suggest TPR (i still had hope!) and he offered instead a full year extention, i cried miserably. Two months later, when Carl stopped calling me "Momma" and instead changed over to "Ma'am" (a name another foster child took to using to refer to me) it hurt. I knew it was best, because reunification looks possible, but it still hurt. I was losing him every day.
Two months later, when he was spending 4 days a week with his mother and only coming home to me on the weekends, i felt horrible. I pined for him while he was gone, but he cried when he came home, wanting his mother instead.
By the time he moved, it was time. He left the monday before his 3rd birthday. He had lived with us for 16 months.

That was in 2006. I stumbled across his mother's myspace page a while back and found pictures she had posted of him. In my excitement, i clicked on through, hoping to see pictures of "my" baby, however, there were none. Traces of my child were left in the eyes and face of this boy in the pictures but he wasn't my child. In one photo, He is sitting in his mother's lap and his smile is so joyful, so happy, so loving that it makes me smile and i say outloud "Good for them."
I think about him often. I remember so much from my time with him but as the years have gone by, my memory has softened the edges, faded out the harshness and all but forgotten the hard troubles we had. I can think back on Carl now with fondness instead of longing, with love instead of loss.
I don't remember exactly when Carl stopped being my child but i will always love him for the time he was my child.