Something strong hit me this weekend and momentarily took my breath away. Each week the little peanut's parents and I meet in a parking lot at a restaurant halfway between each of our homes. We exchange pleasantries, I unstrap her from her carseat, sneaking a kiss on her forehead without them seeing, and hand her over to them. We have been meeting in this manner since last August. Sometimes the conversation is minimal and tense and sometimes we laugh and chatter like friends, almost forgetting that each word we exchange is carefully documented by all parties involved.
On Friday, I pulled into the parking lot a bit early. I unstrapped the peanut from her carseat and brought her into the front with me. There was a cool breeze, so I rolled down the window and turned my car off. She tugged on the steering wheel, pretending to drive and laughed each time I honked the horn. We both watched quietly out my front window at the people buzzing about around us and a bird landed on the hood. She softly mimicked its chirps, waved and then pointed at it with her chubby finger. I watched quietly as her blue eyes darted back and forth, silently following the tiny bird's trek across my car. She gasped with surprise and then giggled when its wings flapped and he flew away. She climbed up my body, using the sleeve of my shirt to pull her up and stuck her head out of the window to see where it went. Her pointy sandals were pinching my leg and she started jumping up and down when she saw the bird land on the car next to us. She looked back at me, studying my reaction so I smiled and laughed, so happy to see that this sweet doll's gentle spirit is in tact and so far removed from the circumstances surrounding us. In that moment, I selfishly thought to myself "No one can love her like I do." I carry this thought around with me always, like an ugly badge that I wear on my sleeve in case I think the world is forgetting about our journey. I'm not proud of these thoughts, but by acknowledging them as part of the package deal, I can find the strength to relinquish their power over me.
Her parents rounded the corner in their car. The peanut's eyes darted to them instantly, recognizing the familiar hands waving out the window at her. She stretched her arms out to them. They pulled to a stop next to me and her daddy got out. I opened my door and set the peanut down, her legs already moving before they touched the concrete. She raced to him with her arms wide open and she wrapped herself around his leg. He lifted her high into the air and blew on her tummy and she scrunched up her nose and giggled. He gently handed her back to me so she could give me a hug. She wrapped her soft, chubby arms around my neck and then moved her forehead to my lips so I could kiss it and then she climbed back into his arms "Tell Miss Amy bye bye" he said while he moved her hand up and down. I waved goodbye and smiled warmly.
When I pulled out of the parking lot, I slowed down at a stoplight and nervously bit my lip as I watched their car pull up next to mine heading in the same direction. I know what I was afraid to see and it happened to be exactly what I saw. I glanced over and saw the peanut smile as her big brother tickled her tummy. I watched her parents having a conversation in the front seat, her mom reaching over to change the radio station, her dad peeking into his rearview mirror and smiling. It was then it hit me, I'm her foster mom. I know it sounds like a revelation that should've been made months ago, but this is an important one that I needed to come into in my own time. Of course I always knew she wasn't mine, I felt that familiar twinge of pain every time I watched her reach a new milestone and drank it in as if it were my last one. When you are caring for a child your role in their life loses its title. Watching them in their car that day, I realized that the peanut is a piece of their puzzle. There is a special, intricately made spot created just for her.
I'm her temporary home. Her in between. It's true.. no one can love her like I do. My love for her is unique and irreplaceable. My first child. Her first momma. Her family can't love her the way that I have, but they can love her in a brand new way, unique only to them, a special love that only they share.
Although my journey with her is ending, I believe when I let her go my little birdie will fly.
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