Of All The Wrongness

It's 4:30am and I'm surprised I slept at all.

I spent 6 hours in court yesterday for my youngest foster son, Pumba. And really I'd much rather just tell you his name but to protect his anonymity (and no one else's) I will just stick with Pumba. His parents named him after a ridiculous Disney character, which I thought was the stupidest thing in the world… until what happened yesterday.

Court began with DHS requesting to change the goal from reunification to termination of parental rights. This case has been open two years, which is twice as long as the law recommends. But apparently there was some mistake. The hearing was listed as a review hearing and not a permanency planning hearing, so the judge would not allow it. Instead, we did a combined review hearing for his 2 older brothers plus an adjudication hearing for Pumba.

So 6 hours in court listening to several subpoenaed witnesses testifying against these parents for abuse, neglect, and addiction. There were doctors, family, school principal, and the lady from the shelter where mom was kicked out for disobeying the rules KNOWING AHEAD OF TIME that by doing so she would lose her kids.

The day was filled with emotion. The witnesses clearly hated being put in that position where something they might say could change these kids' lives forever. And to make it worse, Pumba's oldest brother was present to hear it all hashed out. But the parents sat as calm and collected as ever, as if they had not a care in the world.

The parents' attorney was as obnoxious as usual. I've never liked him. The ad litem seemed determined but not necessarily for the kids that she was supposed to represent. I thought DHS did a good job in presenting the case. And this judge has always seemed reasonable to me.

It was getting late and my case worker was on the stand requesting again for a change of goal and going over some of the nonsense of the past 2 years. Those very same issues that were going on 2 years ago are still going on today and nothing has changed. Or I should say nothing has changed for the parents. The older boys have been drug through the wringer, so to speak, with different placements, shelters, ranches, doctors, etc.

It was during this testimony that the oldest brother lost it. He completely shut down and started sobbing. And the judge called for another recess.

I thought we were almost done. I thought she would finish up, the older brother would testify, the judge would rule, and it would be done in a matter of minutes. I thought it was clear that nothing would be happening for little Pumba right away.

I slipped out during this recess and went home in time to kiss my kids goodnight and give everyone a briefing of the day's events. I would call my case worker tomorrow to see what I missed and get the next court date.

My phone rang at close to 10:00. And I thought it was super nice of her to go ahead and call and get this wrapped up. And a bit unusual to tell the truth.

I would've never guessed in a million years what she was going to say. The judge had ruled the immediate return of Pumba and his oldest brother to their abusive, addicted, neglectful parents. In-home trial placement tonight. TONIGHT.

Nobody could believe it. My case worker had some colorful words but asked if we'd be willing to meet the parents somewhere to drop Pumba off.

Um no. I won't. I was sick of dealing with them before this happened because they repeatedly requested so many extras from me. They were sullen, not remorseful, blaming, and continually trying to one-up me and prove themselves as better parents. I was sick of them before this and I was certainly not going to deal with their smugness tonight. So no.

At this point I gave the phone to my man to work out the details of where to meet the caseworker. By this time the whole family was gathered in my room. We worked together to pack up all of Pumba's clothes, WIC checks, and the medicine his mother will never give him.

And then.

We had to wake our sweet baby up from his warm and safe crib, pray over him, cry over him, and kiss him goodbye so he could be delivered to the mom who willingly forfeited her time with him in the first place. And to the drug addicted dad who beat Pumba's grandmother IN HER WHEELCHAIR.

There has never been anything more wrong.
He was just starting to get well.
He was happy and warm and safe.
He had no diaper rash.
He was clean and had real clothes and good shoes.

Laney spent the night with Meg and neither of them got to say goodbye. BlueEyes slept through it all and will wake this morning to be the only one in his room.

How did this happen? Why was the ad litem working for the wrong side? How can the parents' attorney sleep knowing he perverted justice? What did the judge hear??  Why the baby?  And how come the middle son gets to remain in his current placement?

I don't understand. And it's all wrong.

I imagine my sweet boy will be handed over to his day care worker in dirty diapers this week and the sour milk in his bottle that we heard about in court.
His parents threw a fit with me in the doctor's office about his meds so he won't be getting those. He won't wear real clothes in the cold because his mother claims he hates them.

It's all wrong.

Lying awake, I kept thinking about all that God says about the wicked. They will NOT stand in the assembly. And eventually justice will be served.

In the meantime I am praying for mercy and protection over these kids. I'm keeping his spot open, waiting to see if Pumba will return. And the CW said I'd be the first to know.

Still. It's all wrong.