Bean’s appeal period expires today.
I can’t believe this might actually happen. I’ve loved her since we first got the call - I fell hard for this kid, and I’ve told myself over and over she was leaving. She still could. But I’m trying to let myself experience shards of hope (not rays - they’re sharp, they come with pain - shards is more appropriate) that I might have the honor of calling this child my daughter. Most of the time I refer to children in my care as “my children” or “my kid(s)” because “my son/daughter” feels too possessive and permanent. I know that isn’t logical.
I still think about her mom all the time. Bean will never know who her father is. I already don’t know how to answer the questions she will have. I hope her mom is able to stick around long enough to build some kind of connection, create some memories for her. She has a right to that. They both do.
Bean, I love you. Whatever the future holds. I love you so much, baby girl. I’m going to be the best damn second mom I can for as long as I have the privilege.