On March 22, 2016, Steph and I met our foster care support worker W for the first time. It was a Tuesday.
We had been wondering when we we would officially be certified as foster parents. W told us it had happened a couple weeks ago, and that we should expect a call at any time. She said that we should probably buy some diapers and a pack and play. W knew that we wanted as young a child as possible–ideally under 3 years old.
Why a baby? Well, at some point Steph and I decided that since we hadn’t been parents before, it would be better for both us and the kiddo if we took a baby. We figured caring for a baby wouldn’t require us to exercise parenting skills that we didn’t have.
We also figured that we would have some time before we had any placements. In one week we were excited to fly to Seattle for a long weekend. We also had Memorial Day tickets to Mexico City. We assumed that we would get our first call about a possible foster child in mid-June, after we decompressed from our travels. But just to be safe, we planned to get the pack and play and diapers on Saturday.
W called us that Friday around 9 am. She told us that four-day old Gavin needed a home. He was still in the hospital. We only knew two things about him–his first name and that he was white.
I had always imagined we’d get a girl. Stephanie had imagined a non-white baby. But this little white boy was (potentially) thrown into our lives, and we had two hours to decide if we would take him.
I canceled my lunch plans so Steph and I could talk. As we spoke, I started feeling that we should accept this placement. I don’t know why, but it seemed right even though we were thoroughly unprepared for it. I think I was about to say that when Steph said: “I think we should take him.”
We did. And the rest, as they say, is history.