Release Me

Yesterday was supposed to be a day of closure.

It was supposed to be the closing of one door and the opening of another.

Instead, it was a day filled with waiting, anxiousness, confusion and more delay.

The door remains ajar.

We got to court at 10:00 a.m. to meet with the State's attorney. She wanted to brief us on the questions that she would be asking us when we took the stand. Questions like, "What were the boys like when they first got placed with you?" and "What are some things you do together as a family?" and "Why do you want to adopt the boys?"

Simple questions, really.

We had been told the case was a slam dunk.

The day before, the State had brought their case against mom and dad. The judge sided with the State.

We were told on Tuesday that mom had been devastated (dad was a no-show), but had held together her emotions.

I do not think I would've been so strong.

When they called court into session at 11:30 a.m., we piled into the small court room along with two other foster parents involved in our case, mom, our caseworker and her supervisor, our kids' therapist, our kids' attorney, mom's attorney and the State attorney. All non-parties and witnesses (us) were quickly dismissed and relegated to the courtroom waiting area, as we are not privy to trial testimony outside of our own.

The first witness they called was the therapist. She was in there for an hour and came out looking battered and worn down. All she could say, and was allowed to say, really, was "It's a lot."

Then the court dismissed for lunch. After only one witness.

We went to lunch with the other foster parents, whom we've grown close to over the last 15 months. They have been raising our boys' little sisters and are in the same boat as us. It was nice to chat about things other than the case, knowing we'd have to testify later that day.

We returned from lunch and the next witness to be called was the foster agency case supervisor. She was our direct caseworker from April-September of 2014, so she had to testify about that period. Witnesses are not allowed to discuss their testimony with other witnesses, but we know that she was asked about the kids' visitation with their mom, their relationship with us, their health and well-being, mom's progress on service plans, etc. She was also in there for an hour, coming out looking exhausted. Apparently there were a lot of power plays and objections from both sides of the fence.

I wasn't nervous. I was actually anxious for my turn. To tell our story and to finally have a voice after all this time.

Only is wasn't to be.

While the supervisor was testifying, other people and attorneys began filing into the waiting area for our court room.

Immediately my heart sunk.

As it turns out, some "clerical error," (according to the judge) resulted in our courtroom and our judge being double-booked that day. Effective at 2:30 p.m., our case had to take the back burner while our judge reviewed brand new, emergency cases because State law dictates that when a child is removed from their home, the court has 24 hours to review the case and assign temporary custody, whether that be with a relative or with a foster parent or group home. For some reason, there were many of these cases yesterday and our judge got stuck hearing them all.

Our case never resumed.

At 4:30 p.m. we were pulled into the courtroom and told that our case had to be continued. We were angry and frustrated. Our court date had been scheduled since September 2014, and we had taken off work and waited 7 hours to testify! How could they do this? The unfairness was too much for this pregnant lady to handle. But then the worst news....The next open day on the calendar to hear our case was May 6th. A full 3 months away.

Another devastating blow.

My mind could not fathom how this was possible or allowable.

Our kids were removed from their parents three years ago. Three years! They deserve permanence and justice and security. And we deserve to be heard.

To say we were angry is an understatement.

There were many apologies; "It's outside of our control." "We're just as frustrated as you." "We wish this wasn't the case." Blah blah blah.

I assured them that there was no way possible that they were as frustrated as us, for these are my children. This is not my job.

We left the court defeated, frustrated, angry and sad.

On the way home I tried to get Rocky to think of some positive things in life that we could focus on, to lift our spirits and give us hope; Neither one of us really wanted to be encouraged. We were too upset.

But I had to try. I couldn't pass all these negative emotions onto the baby, and I certainly did not want to go home in a horrible mood and inadvertently take it on the boys. So I began listing things, anything really, that we could think about instead. It helped a little, but not really. Though I wasn't fuming anymore by the time we got home, I was physically, emotionally and spiritually spent. I could've gone right to bed had it not been for our sons needing help with homework and wanting to tell us about their day. And it was all Rocky could do to not scoop them up and kiss them every 5 minutes, trying to heal his broken heart.

It was a hard night.

It's still hard this morning.

I have to keep reminding myself that nothing has changed. The boys are still ours, we didn't lose the case, and we have so much to look forward to. The baby is due in 6 weeks, we're healthy, employed, insured, and the boys are happy and doing well in school. Our marriage is solid and we have tremendous support from family and friends.

We know we're blessed.

But man....I wish I understood why God didn't answer our prayers.

All night I kept asking, "Who's prayer did you answer, God? Because it wasn't ours."

It's in my sinful nature to blame God; It makes sense to me because He's the one who is really in control.

Why didn't He end this yesterday?

Why is this dragging out so long?

Why? Why? Why?

I'm trying to have hope; See the good, cling to other answered prayers.

But it's hard when the waves of defeat are so heavy, and the sound of doubt and fear so loud.

What choice do I have but to keep praying, "Please, God. Let it be finished."