Ten Tips for Flying Solo with a Baby

FYI- This isn't Little Man. He is much cuter.
I said it, and I meant it.

Well, Little Man and I made it back to Texas! And- all things considered- the return trip went pretty smoothly! 

He got a little fussy as we were landing in Waco, but I would much rather cope with fussiness at the very end of a long trip than the very beginning.

Times a million.

At this point, I feel like I’ve gained some level of expertise on flying solo with an infant (I mean, I’ve done it successfully twice!), so I’ve decided to share my top 10 tips for anyone else who takes on this challenge.

1.     When scheduling flights, choose them based on your needs. Some of the advice I read prior to traveling with Little Man said to “time your flight to your baby’s schedule.” That, in my humble opinion, is terrible advice. In my experience, baby’s schedule goes out the window when it collides with chaotic airports, noisy planes, and awful air pressure changes. Those things stress me out, so I can’t imagine how overwhelming it would be if you have less than 3 months of life under your belt.

When I booked our flight to NYC, I decided to fly out at 10AM- a time I thought would line up perfectly with his eating and napping patterns. And it probably would have- if we left that day. But, as tends to happen with infants, his schedule shifted over the next few weeks. That morning I was nervous about the fact that his schedule was now completely incompatible with our travel plans, but- in spite of his normal scheduling- Little Man still slept through most of the day. And I had (some) energy because I’d had time to get him up and fed, do last-minute packing/cleaning, and rest for a little bit for spending the next 8 hours traveling.

On the other hand, our first flight together in October left at 6AM (it was booked before I knew he’d be my travel buddy- or that he existed). This technically worked with his schedule since newborns nap 90% of the time, but I wound up being completely exhausted- despite his excellent traveling. (It’s hard to nap when you’re holding an infant in your lap and can only recline a few degrees backward, which becomes problematic when you’re running on 3 hours of sleep and have things to do when you land.)

All that to say, do what works for you. If it’s easy for you to hop out of bed hours before you see the sun, take that early morning flight! If you need a little down time to energize yourself for a big day, pick a later time. Whatever! Time it to your scheduling needs rather than your baby’s, because his will probably change- before and during travel day- and you have to have the energy and capacity to adjust. 

2.     Splurge on pre-made bottles.

During our first trip, I just packed our bottles- which I filled with water so I could quickly mix in the formula when he needed to eat. Genius, right? Wrong. It took me all of 2 seconds to discover that mixing up a bottle when you’re crammed into a tiny airplane seat, holding a screaming baby, and feeling as if every other passenger is staring you down to telepathically communicate just how much they hate you is fairly difficult. I’d give it about an  8 on a 10 point scale.

Rather than enduring that pressure, you can opt to purchase bottles that just require you to open them and screw on a top. Even that can be challenging in the previously mentioned scenario, but it’s so much faster. And it prevents you from spilling powdered formula all over yourself.

For day to day life, buying those bottles is crazy town. You’d spend a fortune on them. But one pack was just enough to last through travel to and from NYC. I’m not sure I’ve ever spent $12 so wisely.

3.     Bring a stroller and a wearable baby carrier. 

      Sure, the stroller will be a bit of a pain when you’re trying to fold it up at the end of the bridge while passengers rush by you to get the best seats on the plane (that’s not a thing on most flights, by the way, folks- pushing your way past me just buys you more time stuck in your tiny airplane seat. Do people not realize that?), but it will definitely come in handy when you’re traveling through the airport. ESPECIALLY if you have a wearable baby carrier. These, in my opinion, are necessities for air travel with infants. They leave your stroller open to carry heavy carry-ons, which is helpful when you’re sprinting to catch a flight. They shield your babies from everyone who wants to stare at and touch them. They make napping mid-flight sort of almost possible. And they give you a way to use the restroom on the plane without asking a stranger to hold your child. Thank you, God, for the Baby Bjorn/Moby Wrap. (I used the Moby Wrap on the flight to Oregon- a lot of people didn’t even notice I had a baby with me.  Success!)

4.     Consolidate the things you pack in carry-ons. On the way to NY, I thought I was being super smart by just carrying my small purse and the diaper bag. But then I also had to carry my coat, scarf, and Little Man’s blanket. And I wound up trying to stuff all of these things under the seat, because I knew I needed things from the diaper bag and didn’t want to be that person who puts smaller, loose items in the overhead bins. Sorry, neighbors sharing my foot space.

My first morning in NYC, I went out and bought a cheap, giant purse for the trip back to Texas. This allowed me to pack baby necessities (diapers, wipes, bottles, a rattle, and a pacifier) in the purse along with small things I’d need over the next few hours. Extra items (change of clothes, computer, bag of small liquids, etc) were stuffed into the diaper bag, which was then securely stowed in the overhead bin above me.

If you are an exceptional packer and can fit all of your stuff in your diaper bag, this may be a moot point. But trust me when I say an overstuffed bag that makes it difficult to find and replace items is far worse than two organized bags.

5.     Buy things there. If you’ll be gone for more than 12 hours, only pack the number of diapers you’ll need for your flight(s). Then, when you arrive, buy a pack there. You’ll probably use them all, and it will save you valuable suitcase space. Same goes for formula, and any other disposable items you will use quickly.

6.     Get creative with the non-disposable items you can’t pack and can’t buy there. Depending on where you are, you might be able to rent things like a crib. Fortunately for me, family friends lent us their old baby items in NYC. But in Oregon, I spent one night at a friend’s before checking into a hotel. With no crib in sight, I made do with a laundry basket. Before you judge me for that, note that it was a large basket with more than enough space for a 2-week-old. And I cleaned it out first. And I obviously lined it with a blanket. Essentially, it was exactly the same as one these portable sleepers that people pay money for:

This costs $50. But it can double as a laundry basket when your baby outgrows it in a month.

Creativity will save you money and space in your suitcase.

7.     Learn to love longer layovers. Before travelling with a baby, I thought long layovers were for chumps. My goal was to get the shortest possible layover- because who likes to hang out in an airport? This will not fly with a baby in tow. One- it takes longer to leave the first plane because you have to wait for your stroller to be brought to the bridge. Two- The chances of baby needing a diaper change and maybe even a bottle between flights are high, and you don’t want to/can’t rush that. Three- you just have a lot more stuff to haul around. And another person.

If you don’t give yourself some solid time between flights, you may wind up trying to rush your baby through a bottle from a bench by a toilet in a family-style bathroom, and then- when he doesn’t finish it quickly enough- trying to push a luggage-laden stroller with your right arm and carry a baby in your left while holding a bottle under your chin so you can make it to your next flight on time. This makes you look like a crazy person.

At least that’s what I gathered from the people staring at me throughout gate C.

Full disclosure: I did not look this cute as I ran to the Skylink.

In other words: take your time. You’ll need it.

8.     Bring a change of clothes… For everyone. When I flew to Oregon, I had about two and a half weeks of experience as a mom (a few days of prep, two weeks in action). Obviously I was super prepared.

In my naiveté, I thought I was incredibly smart to have not just one, but TWO extra baby outfits tucked away in my diaper bag. I was ready to write a parenting book with all of my wisdom.

Then, the unthinkable happened. I got up halfway through the DFW-Portland flight to do a routine diaper change, and what I found was horrifying. 

Little Man’s day of constipation had ended with a mess that could not be bound by the parameters of a mere diaper. Nor could it be held by his onesie. Nor could his pants contain it. 

By the grace of God, it was finally stopped by the 4^th barrier- the Moby Wrap he was sleeping in. I truly believe it was a miracle that I was not covered in poop before, in the process of, or after removing that thing from my body.

As one does through surviving such a frightening experience, I learned a valuable lesson that day. Always bring an extra outfit- or at least a shirt- for yourself, too.

(Another tip- scarves work really well for cleaning and covering spit-up.)

9.     Don’t be afraid to cry. With the stress of our flight to DFW the other week and the chaos of trying to make it to the second flight (refer to the story in number 7), I was on edge by the time I reached our second gate. Probably anything could have made me cry in those moments, but what eventually did was the DFW employee who, when checking tickets, told me having an infant did not give me the privilege of boarding early. Oh, and that I had to fold up the stroller and car seat before entering the bridge- carrying them (rather than rolling them) all the way down to the plane. You know- along with the giant diaper bag, purse, coat, scarf, blanket, and- oh yeah- the baby strapped to my chest. Nbd.

I stared at him for a minute, trying to make sense of what he was saying to me. By the time I stepped back out of the line, the floodgates had opened. 

The man at the gate’s desk looked over at me, and I think I sputtered something along the lines of, “How am I supposed to carry it?” through my tears. Bless that man, he took pity on me- or just felt stressed at the sight of a lady with a baby crying. Either way, he rushed over and, asked me what was wrong, and told me he would fold up the stroller and carry it to the plane himself. Then he told the ticket taker to let me through.

Take that, DFW employee I’ll probably never see again! (Although, to be fair to him, I think his request came more from being oblivious than just being mean.)

Was it embarrassing to cry in front of a bunch of strangers and walk- red-eyed and sniffling- all the way through the crowded plane? Definitely. Did the people on that plane think I was a train wreck? Probably. Would I do it again? Without a doubt. I was certainly not intending to use those tears to get my way- they were genuinely coming from a place of overwhelming stress and an extreme need for (at least one) glass of wine. But was I relieved I didn’t have to singlehandedly carry everything to the plane? 

So don’t be afraid to bust out those tears- they may stress people out enough to help you!

10.  Accept help when it is offered. Someone wants to help you put your carry-on in the overhead bin? Let them. Someone else wants to buy you lunch? “Yes, please, thank you.” Another person wants to help you pull your suitcase from the carousel? Be my guest.

Initially, I struggled with this. And, to be honest, sometimes I still do. I have this terrible fear that someone will eventually notice that I am not managing everything in my life right now with the perfect grace and poise of Taylor Swift. I’m much more Jennifer Lawrence-esque- fumbling and tripping up life’s staircase. But, for some reason, I sometimes want people to see me as more the Taylor Swift-type. Why, Kaley?? People love Jennifer Lawrence! She’s so relatable! She has an Oscar for Pete’s sake! (Is this metaphor working?)

Where does this need look like I have it all together all the time come from?? I think there’s a (totally irrational) part of me that equates needing help to failure, and- clearly- I don’t want to look like I’m failing at being a foster mom. Because I’m not. I’m kicking ass at it- even if my house isn’t spotless and I’m constantly covered in spit-up.

I’m learning to embrace the fact that I can’t do every single thing perfectly all the time. It’s hard sometimes. But it gives me the chance to accept help grace from others, which is generally pretty worth it. It gives me perspective and connection- and sometimes gets me out of lifting heavy things on my own. I won’t complain about that.

If you are traveling alone with an infant, you are already crushing it- just by your bravery! Accepting help doesn’t lessen that- it just helps you to do an even better job.

So, those are my top tips flying solo with a baby. Have you ever done it? If so, what are your tips?

Come to think of it, what are any of your tips for making life with a baby easier? I’m still new to this game- I could use some creative life hacks!

Happy Holidays!

Happy holidays from me and Little Man!

It probably seems as if I've forgotten about this corner of the internet- it's been over two months since my last post.

I've actually started to write a handful of blog posts in the past several weeks, but- each time- have been sidetracked by a fountain of spit-up, a stinky diaper, the most pitiful cries of hunger (/sleepiness/boredom/any other thing babies cry about), or (on my end) a bout of narcolepsy. But, thanks to the holiday break, I've finally had enough time to write (and finish) an update!

A lot has happened over the past two months. Little Man has started smiling, laughing, cooing, and pulling my hair like a champ. We've celebrated three first holidays and survived one first trip to the ER! (Little Man, along with every child within a 50 mile radius of our home it seems, came down with RSV. Booooo.)

We were at the hospital until 2AM that night, and he was such a trooper!

He has also grown a lot. He's developed some serious rolls on his arms and legs and has gone up two diaper sizes. I'm convinced all of this growing happens from 3-6AM- the last stretch of sleep I get each night. I look at him in the morning, and I swear he's bigger than he was when I fed him at 2AM. These days he gives me the most heart-melting smiles when he sees me after waking up, but I suspect it's his way of distracting me from the fact that he gained an extra quarter pound of weight overnight. Carrying him around these days is no joke, guys.

Rolls on rolls on rolls!

On Christmas Eve, Little Man turned three months old- which amazes me. The time has flown by, and it's been incredible to watch him change and grow. I do miss the newborn days of constant snuggles, but it's so much fun to see him laughing and playing now.

I've definitely discovered that traveling is easier in those early days, though. Flying, specifically. We went to Portland for a wedding when he was two weeks old, and- despite my anxiety- he handled it like a true jet-setter.

Last week we flew to New York to celebrate the holidays, and it did not go quite so smoothly. Our first flight from Waco was filled with a lot of tears from him, and our brief layover was filled with a few more tears from me. (I was stressed, and there was a particular DFW employee who was not very empathetic.) I am not kidding when I say I strongly considered just taking a shuttle back to Waco at that point.

Thankfully, the second flight was a lot easier, and I was fortunate enough to sit by a father of three who was very understanding and helpful. He even offered to buy me lunch, which was so kind and generous! (This man recently started a company called "Golden Coast Mead," so if you like such beverages, support them- he is one of the nicest people and totally deserves it.)

Being up in NYC has been great- it's been nice to be with family. It's also allowed me to nap more, for which I am very thankful- particularly because he is not sleeping as well as he normally does. He's just too scared to miss anything going on in the Big Apple, I guess.

I'd say he enjoyed his first Christmas, but, honestly, he seemed pretty indifferent to the whole thing. He is only three months old, after all. He got a few toys he's not quite sure what to do with yet, but hopefully he'll appreciate them more within the next few weeks.

We're up here for a just a few more days before heading back to Texas on the 1st. (Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers then- I'm not sure I can handle the stress of last week's flight again...) Most of our plans involve staying cozy and warm in the apartment, but I'm sure we'll take another walk in Central Park- and hopefully one to a nearby bakery that I love.

I'm excited to to see what 2015 holds for me and Little Man. One year ago, I never would have guessed I'd be sitting here now as a foster mom to such a precious little boy. I had dreams of becoming a foster parent, but I didn't know at the time how soon it would happen. It's strange to think about how much my life has changed- and how much it could change in the weeks ahead- but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

It's been an amazing year- and an incredible journey. Thank you so much for sharing it with me! I cannot say enough how blessed I feel to have such incredible support from so many people near and far; the little guy and I are very lucky.

We hope you've had a wonderful holiday season, and, as we enter into 2015, we pray you have a year filled with peace, joy, love, and hope!

I cannot end this post- and begin the new year- with anything better than this sloth's advice. May we all keep it in our hearts throughout 2015:

My sister, Lauren, sent this to me before Little Man even arrived, and I've been trying to find the perfect occasion to use it.
This seems as perfect an occasion as any, I think.

Happy holidays!!!

Love,

Kaley and Little Man

Life with Little Man- Lessons I've Learned (So Far)

I’ve been a foster parent for almost a month (what?!) and am a little overdue on an update. As it turns out, having a newborn is somewhat time-consuming. And very exhausting. Who knew??

It is so exhausting, in fact, that when I sat down and started writing this post 2 weeks ago, I fell asleep whilst typing.

True story.

Little Man and I have been pretty busy since then. We have had a lot of guests stop by, started daycare and gone back to work, seen Patty Griffin in concert, and made a trip to Portland for a dear friend’s wedding. (I know- crazy.) Nonetheless, I’m finally coming back to this post.

And I’ve had two cups of coffee today, so hopefully I’ll be able to finish it!

(I cut out some of the intro since it was just notes on surviving two weeks, but it is significant to note that it included this: “As I type this, my head keeps drooping because I’m starting to fall asleep.” Two paragraphs later… Bam. Out. I know myself well.)

Although I am new to the whole “foster mom to a newborn” business, I have learned many important things since Little Man’s arrival. I thought I’d create a list of some of the big ones so I could share them with you all.

1.     All people can be grouped into one of two categories. Category one: people who love/are obsessed with babies. I am constantly stopped by strangers who want to look at Little Man, comment on his hair, ask how old he is, and tell me that he is “so tiny!” At a restaurant in Portland, an entire table of people had a whole conversation about how small and adorable he is. And, to be clear, I was not a part of that group. They just spotted him from across the room and couldn’t help themselves. Understandable. He really is that adorable.  Category two: people who are terrified of babies. Some people respond to Little Man as if I was holding a tarantula- they back up slowly but keep one eye on him- just in case he moves. This response always surprises me, but I have learned that people who don’t have much experience with infants have a crippling fear of breaking them. I really believe everyone falls into one of these categories- no one is neutral about newborns.

2.     Once you have a baby in your home, a lot of things that used to be really important to you- like having your bed made in the morning or showering on a regular basis- don’t even appear on your radar. The list of priorities automatically transforms to this: “1. Baby, 2. Sleep.” Those two things consume the majority of my thoughts these days.

My life right now.

3.     The insecurity parents feel about caring for a newborn fuels an incredible market for an unending variety of baby items. Did you know you can buy what is essentially a baby-bottle Keurig? You can use it to fill up one of the millions of types of bottles with one of the billions of types of formula. You can buy any number of sound machines, blankets, baby toys, DVDs, car accessories, diaper-changing items, etc- all of which will probably help your baby become a genius who sleeps through the night within the first month of life. Next time I head to the baby aisle, I fully expect to see some kind of machine that will burp your baby for you. And if it’s not there, I call dibs on inventing it.

As ridiculous as I find this, I do have to confess that walking through that aisle feeling as if I had no idea what I was doing made me also feel as if I needed to buy every item on every shelf. Insecurity breeds consumerism when it comes to caring for kids.

It is real.

4.     That being said, there are a few items I have become very dependent on in the past few weeks, and I would recommend them to anyone. 1. A baby-wrap/carrier. I use a Moby wrap and a Baby Bjorn, and I thank God for them daily. Especially when traveling, trying to do chores, and spending any time outside of my house. 2. A diaper genie (or other diaper-specific garbage can). Right now I have probably 30 dirty diapers sitting within 10 feet of me, and I cannot smell even a hint of them. It’s either because of the genius genie design or because I’ve gotten used to the smell, but I think it’s the first thing. 3. A swing/bouncy seat/something similar. These things have become invaluable to me because they give me a chance to nap every once in a while.

5.     Babies make really great faces. Little Man seems to be particularly expressive, and I am pretty sure I could stare at him all day. I am concerned he’ll have some serious premature wrinkles, though.

6.     When you have a newborn and people offer to help you with something, it is important to say, “Yes please thank you.” As much as I want to Wonder Woman this business, it is immeasurably helpful to have friends who are willing to pick up food for you or grab some formula so you can avoid hauling a baby to the grocery store. I, like Elizabeth Bennett, can sometimes be a bit prideful; I like to tackle and conquer enormous tasks by myself- or at least think I am able to do so. But living with a newborn has taught me this very important lesson: trying to do everything alone is a sure-fire way to fail. Or pass out on your keyboard at work.

7.     Waking up at 2AM to make a bottle is awful. But having a teeny baby fall asleep on your chest is the best.

8.     There are few bonds like the bond between a dog and its baby. RG still isn’t positive what to think of Little Man, but he gets anxious when he cries and is definitely protective. I’m not sure how aware Little Man is of RG’s existence, but I’m guessing that will change before too long- which will hopefully create a few precious photo-ops.

9.     It is possible to welcome a newborn into your home with 48 hours notice- IF you are surrounded by a lot of incredible people.

10.  I am surrounded by a lot of incredible people. Really and truly. By the time Little Man arrived home, my house looked like I’d been preparing for his arrival for 9 months. By the end of the weekend, we were flooded with baby necessities and baby nice-to-haves. We’ve been surrounded by an incredible amount of love and support, and- now that I’m almost two four weeks in- I can pretty much guarantee this would have been impossible without so many loving and lovely people. #blessed

(But seriously.)

Welcoming #1

I know things have been a little bit quiet over the last few weeks; I'm sure a few folks out there have wondered how things have been going. So here's an update on things that have happened since my last post:

Three hours after I signed the papers to be officially licensed, I was almost given a placement. Unfortunately, it was a pretty complicated situation, so the agency decided to pass on it since I was so new.

I expected a phone call with a new placement later that week. I kept my phone on hand 24/7- just in case. But things stayed quiet. I kept going through my standard routine- trying to take advantage of my my pre-placement free-time but mostly just hoping my I'd get a phone call.
(I wrote a post about the waiting period in those first few days, but haven't posted it yet; I wasn't sure it accurately articulated the complexity of what I was feeling. I'll probably re-visit and share it soon, but essentially it touched on how hard it is to hope for something that- deep down- you hope won't happen. The ideal is that foster families wouldn't be needed, but at the same time I felt so ready (emotionally) to welcome a child into my home. And it was sometimes hard to reconcile those two desires.)

One week later I received another call. It was for a second potential placement- this time for two children under the age of two.

The agency I work with is incredibly supportive, and they want foster parents to make thoughtful and informed decisions about accepting placements. They encourage them to be honest about what they're thinking and feeling, and want them to only accept placements they feel confident they can really care for and support.

When I received this second phone call, I was in the midst of a miserable cold. As I answered, I was  typing a message to a friend about my plans to take NyQuil and go to bed the moment I got home.
When this opportunity came up, I immediately called my mom and sister to get their perspectives, and ultimately decided I didn't feel confident at that moment to accept two young children. I wasn't sure I'd be able to adjust so quickly to life with two youngsters while feeling awful, struggling to breathe normally, and battling a fever.

So I told them I wasn't ready. Which was incredibly difficult.

After that, my phone went silent again. I kept it close- again, expecting it to ring at any moment. (I mean, I almost got a placement within three hours of signing papers- why was it taking so long??)

On Monday night I was sitting with a new friend, drinking tea and sharing my frustration with the waiting. "I thought I'd have a placement by now," I lamented. "I thought the difficult part was over when I finished the licensure process, but waiting seems just as challenging in a lot of ways." She encouraged me to trust that, whenever a placement came, the timing and fit would be perfect. I agreed, really believing she was right, but still feeling exhausted with the process.

The next day- less than 24 hours later- my phone rang again.

I picked it up- thinking it would just be a request for more information to complete babysitter background checks. (I'd had to provide a few rounds of information earlier in the week.)

But it wasn't.

I was told there was a new potential placement. There was an expecting mom was set to be induced later in the week, but she wasn't ready to take care of her new baby at that time. So she was asking to have him placed.

And they thought I'd be a good fit.

"Of course, we'll have to figure out childcare. Most places won't take kids under 6 weeks of age. But if we're able to work that out, do you think you'd be interested?"

I didn't even have to think about this one. I felt ready (again- emotionally) and confident as I said, "Yes, I definitely would."

So I made some phone calls and the agency made some phone calls, and we kept hitting walls. I talked to several day cares, all of which stated they couldn't take in an infant so young. The one I found that could accept newborns was full.

So I started to feel discouraged again; I began to think this placement would't work out, after all.

The next day- on Wednesday- the agency told me they were working on a few possibilities.

That evening, they told me they'd figured out an option that would work.

They didn't have information about the mom/baby yet, so I still wasn't sure if things would pan out, but I was trying to remain hopeful.

On Thursday morning I got a text. "It's a boy!"

I may or may not have cried in my office.

I felt such a strange mix of emotions. On the one hand, I was so excited to welcome this new life into my home. I felt humbled at the thought of accepting such an significant role in the life of this child and his family.
At the same time, my heart broke for his mom. I couldn't image what she was feeling. I was so thankful for the way she was choosing to care for her child, but so devastated at the thought of the pain she was feeling.

I cannot even fathom what she was- and is- going through.

But I felt very ready to love that new baby boy.

We weren't sure when he would be released from the hospital, but- expecting it to be sometime over the weekend- I made a Target run that night to pick up the essentials. Diapers, wipes, etc.

As I stood in the baby aisle- overwhelmed by the sheer number of various bottles (how do I know what to choose?!), my phone rang again.

"He's being released tomorrow! Do you want to go with the case manager to pick him up?"

After frantic and frazzled phone calls to my employers, I excitedly agreed to go.

Twelve hours later- after a somewhat sleepless night- I was heading down to Galveston to meet my first foster child.

As we made the trip, everything felt surreal. I kept expecting to wake up and realize it was a dream. I stared at passengers in the cars passing by, thinking about how we were (probably) heading to such different places. They were just going about their day-to-day lives.

I was going to pick up a child.

My heart was racing when we pulled up to the hospital. We checked in at the nursery, and I stood awkwardly behind the case manager as he filled out paperwork. I kept glancing around- trying to figure out which crying baby would be coming home with me in just a few hours.

After signing a few forms, the nurse waved me over to a few infants lying in portable hospital cribs.

She pointed to the one closest to me, and I met my new foster son.

"I'm sorry- we're really busy today," the nurse explained. "Let me try to find you a room." She asked her co-workers if there was an empty room nearby. We were directed to the circumcision room.

Not an ideal location for our first moments together, but still.

I followed her as she wheeled this sweet little boy- less than 48 hours old- into the room. She told me he was probably ready to eat, handed me a bottle, and left to take care of her other patients. "Am I allowed to pick him up?" I asked as she left, but she didn't hear me.

There are really no words that can do justice to everything I felt in that moment.

Overjoyed.
Terrified.
Grateful.
Nervous.
Uncertain.
Peaceful.
And so, so full of love.

I stared at him for a moment- completely unable to process so many distinct thoughts and emotions- and then, very nervously, pulled him into my arms.

I cried as I sat there holding him.

I whispered to him while he slept in my arms- terrified I would wake him up. I told him how happy I was to meet, hold, and care for him. I told him about how loved he was- by me, by his mother, and by the countless people who had called and texted me over the past 24 hours to offer support, baby clothes, meals, etc. (I have amazing people in my life, guys.)

Despite the noise and chaos around us, it felt so quiet in that room. He lay there sleeping (and- based on the adorable faces he made- dreaming some crazy thing); I stared in awe and silently thanked God for the life in my arms.

About 15 minutes later, his case manager joined  us as we waited for the nurse to return. We sat together for two hours before she came back into the room carrying a bag of supplies and papers. "Okay, I'm just going to give you a really quick crash course on caring for newborns," she told me. She quickly flipped through a booklet, reminding me to put him on his back to sleep, make sure he was buckled up in the car, and stick to short sponge baths until his umbilical cord fell off. You know, the highlights of infant care.

She probably said a few other things, too, but she was talking quickly. It's all kind of a blur now.

"Well, any questions?" she asked.
"Umm... I don't... not that I can think of right now?"
"Okay, well- you can go ahead and change his diaper and then head out! Good luck!"

Five minutes later, we were carrying this tiny boy out to the car.

I was expecting someone to chase me into the elevator and stop us. Surely someone knew I didn't know what I was doing?!

But we made it to the car without anyone saying another word.

We buckled him into his carseat ("Is this right? Should this be at a different angle? He looks so scrunched up- can he breathe?!") and left.

About 4 hours later, I was pulling into my driveway, trying to comprehend the ways my life had changed in the past 24 hours.

Guys.

I'm a foster a foster mom.

To a perfect little boy.

And I am so, so happy.

And sleep deprived.

But mostly happy. And unbelievably grateful.

I'll share more about the past few days later, but for now I have a sweet little baby to hold.

I'm not allowed to show his face or use his name, but here are some photos of our first days together:

He held my finger for most of the ride home. He knows how to melt hearts, guys.

Right after we arrived home (I look exhausted and like I just gave birth, but I love this photo.) 

RG is still trying to figure out what to think about him.

It's Official.

1:30PM (or a few minutes before, I guess).

That's the time I officially became a licensed foster parent.

I had to sign a form in front of a notary, so I ran by the office this afternoon to do so.

As I sat down at her desk, she hovered next to me chatting with the foster care program director.

"Okay," I told myself. "This signature counts. Make it a good one."

Luckily I'd practiced signing my name at least a hundred times that morning- one of the perks of being a social worker, I guess.

A moment later I was sitting there- staring at my signature, freshly scrawled in bright blue ink- when I heard a piece of the notary's conversation above me.

"So, if we were to get a call tonight about a placement, technically..."
"It could go to her, yes."

That's when it dawned on me:

They're talking about me.

This is really happening.

Holy *&^%.

This isn't an intimidating mountain of forms and tasks standing formidably in the distance.

I've hiked this beast and left it behind.

And now I'm sitting at the notary's desk, taking it all in, and (sort of) realizing what this means for me.

In a matter of hours, I could have a child in my home.

Or it could be a matter of days.
Or weeks.
Or even months, I guess.

But it's done.

I did it.

I'm a foster parent.

(On paper.)


Truth be told, I'm starting to panic a little.

That might be a strong word, but I'm asking myself questions like, "What do I actually do when a child shows up? How will I know what to feed it? What time should it go to bed? Will someone tell me those things, or am I just supposed to figure them out? How does someone figure those things out??
What will we do in our first moments together? How will I explain what's going on to a verbal child? How do I help a child feel at home in a totally new and strange place?
Should I take the kid out for frozen yogurt to ease the transition? No, I don't want to teach them to numb their feelings with food.
But froyo is so food.
And, seriously... what else do I do with a kid?"

I'm having visions of myself sitting across from a four year old- awkwardly asking, "So... what do you want to do?" before falling into an uncomfortable staring contest.

I mean... really...WHAT IF THAT HAPPENS??

Hopefully it won't. Hopefully some of this will come naturally. I mean, I've spent a LOT of time around kids in my life- how hard could this be, right?

Oh my goodness.

I'm going to be a foster parent.

A Tour of the Nest

Well...

I passed the inspections.

The box springs for the kids' room weren't delivered until an hour before the inspector arrived on Tuesday, but I was able to rush home from work and throw the beds together just in time.

After the rush, stress and manual labor, I might not have looked very put together- but my house sure did.

Here's a little tour, for anyone interested in the (pretty much) finished project:

Let's start in the kitchen...
You can't tell in the photo (because the lighting is terrible, my B), but the paint is a beautiful, bright blue. It's very cheery and lovely. Between the paint color, the coffee maker, and the "You deserve a donut" print (aka- an old donut bag. I'm all about recycling) by the sink, this is definitely one of my favorite rooms of the house.

The Emergency Exit Plan also adds a nice touch.

If you turn around, you run right into the dining room.
It's not very exciting, but it has a cute table with cute chalkboard placemats. (Thanks, mom!)

I'm working on spicing the table up a bit with some color, but it's a work in progress. I'll report back on that later.

The dining room opens up to the living room. I did a panoramic photo (obviously), so it's hard to tell from the photo how awkwardly long this room is.  But- despite it's awkward shape- it's very homey.

(Oh, and in case you were wondering, I DIYed the rug from a plain $15 Target rug. It's whatever.)

View two:

The dog bed really adds a classy flare to the room.

I also made the photo hanging things above the couch, but they're a little hard to see here. I'm really happy with them, though- especially because they include some really great photos of my twin and me as toddlers. Here's a sample:

I was a very bubbly child.

Next comes the kids' room, for which I am forever indebted to my mom. (See my last post if you don't understand why.)

Not pictured- the DIY lantern-style Christmas lights. Thanks, Pinterest!

The other kids' room is not totally put together... it sort of serves as the dogs' room for now.
They really enjoy antique furniture, though, so it works out.

#sorrysoblurry

 Then there's my room. I owe the cool wall paint to my old roomie, as it was once her room.

My favorite parts of this room: that chair and the artwork. And the natural light.
And my books.

So, that's my officially-inspected house. 

Which will soon be home to a small person.

 Or people.

Tomorrow is the final walk-through, and then it's pretty much a waiting game.

So that's pretty crazy.

And great.

Who knows? There could be some big updates pretty soon...